Lines of glowing paint traced sigils across the arena floor.
They spread outward in burning gold and iron red.
Along the edge of the dueling ring, spectral figures flickered into existence, echoes of the fighters who had once died here.
They were not real spirits.
They were projections created to honor those fighting in the arena.
Ben, already disguised as Tzarek again, stepped forward.
He held up the offering bone, blackened, polished smooth, and engraved with the seal of challenge.
He let it fall into the shallow brazier at the center.
The bone hit with a sharp crack.
Blue fire leapt up and swallowed it whole.
The referee, wearing a crimson robe with silver thread at the cuffs, raised both arms.
"By the rites of Nephirid, the offering has been received," she declared.
Her voice was amplified by subtle magic. "On this day, before the bound spirits and the eyes of the Primordial Flame, let trial be made through strength and guile."
She turned and pointed toward Ben.
