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Otho-Ra is eight years old when she’s put into the arena. She can barely hold the sword that Oryn-Ra hands her. He tells her to stay close. He looks around to ensure no one is watching and then squeezes her hand and whispers that they’ll be okay. She all but clings to his side when they enter the arena. The roar of the spectators deafens her. The warriors and Warzoon rush forward. Oryn holds back, a barrier between Otho and anyone who might harm her.
She would’ve died that day if not for her brother. It’s a dizzying, disorientating experience that makes her heart hammer so, so loudly in her chest. She nearly cries, but that isn’t the way of Warzoon.
(Warzoon don’t fear battle either, but Kryl-Ux has told her she will learn over time. She’ll be strong and earn iron. Oryn tells her not to worry about that. Kryl-Ux and Oryn disagree a lot.)
They survive then, and for many days after. And at night, Oryn lays on the mat with her and Osul, his back to the entrance, and holds her. He tells her that she’s brave and he’ll protect her. That’s what older brothers do.
The day everything changes starts like the others. They enter the arena together. Otho holds the sword that she’s learned to use, but rarely has to with Oryn at her side. He doesn’t care about winning iron, he says. He only wants to keep her safe. And he does, at the start.
Then, suddenly, Oryn is yanked back and thrown far away from her. She screams for him then jumps back as the Chellid’s ax slams down in front of her. She swings her sword but with a loud clang that reverberates through her arms, it’s smashed out of her hands. She tries to get away but she falls over a body, slamming to the ground.
The Chellid steps closer and towers over her. He swings the ax back, but Oryn rushes at him. Otho’s frozen in place. She can only watch as her brother tries to fight the warrior much larger and stronger than him. Oryn’s sword is knocked away. She scrambles to her feet. The ax rushes forward in an arc. It slices cleanly through his neck.
She screams like the ax has cut through her instead. A blood curdling wail from the deepest parts of her. His body slumps into the dust. His head rolls away. The Chellid turns towards her but Kryl-Ux is suddenly there, fighting with an intensity she’s never seen. His blade is thrust into the Chellid’s stomach and the warrior slammed down.
“Otho-Ra! Quick!” Kryl-Ux shouts, beckoning her. She follows his orders like a machine. He takes her hands and wraps her fingers around the sword hilt. He positions her arms above the Chellid, the tip pointed over his throat. The souls of those you killed go with you. And when you kill someone with iron, their souls pass to you. She hadn’t thought about that much until now.
“So say the dead,” Kryl-Ux whispers.
“So say the dead,” Otho-Ra repeats. He doesn’t have to move her arms. She slams the sword down. She feels the muscle and sinew resisting but puts all her weight into it until the sword hits the dirt and she can’t push it anymore. Then she wrenches it out. Blood flows from the wound and the Chellid gasps, writhes on the ground. The tears dry on her face as she watches.
The horn blows. The day’s fights are over.
She comes back to the cell with a new link in her chain. Her first. She feels empty inside, as if everything has suddenly gone dark. Osul looks at her when she enters then around the cell. “Where Oryn?” Her bottom lip trembles, but she doesn’t cry. She holds Osul’s hand and tells him it’ll be okay.
That night, she lays with her back to the entrance, Osul pressed against her. She promises him that she’ll keep him safe, no matter what. That's what big sisters do. No one will hurt him. She’ll be strong, she’ll become Warzoon. She won’t be weak like she was today. She’ll make Oryn proud.