Ashes

Nine: Mikhail

A/N: Mikhail Foster, ladies and gentlemen.

The ring where they place Kyros and Daedalus inside is kind of terrifying in and of itself. And fifteen people are not even close to the capacity of it.

The massive, arena-like area has an inner ring that seats eighteen, the fifteen people of my choice and three guards, but the amphitheater reaches up so much farther. Hundreds of the Burning file into the massive arena, as Kyros and Daedalus are prepared for whatever fight is about to happen.

Echo and Andi both seat themselves to my right, while Mikhail and Titus sit on my left. Behind us are rows upon rows of wildly enthusiastic Burned people, filing into the seats like this is a game. To be honest, to them it probably is.

There's relative silence for who knows how long. They're all waiting, watching as Daedalus and Kyros prepare for fight in which only one will survive. The guards, clad in their rusted armor, watch us warily as Mikhail and Titus whisper something to each other which even I cannot hear.

Suddenly, ushered in by the roaring crowd, Daedalus emerges from his corner and enters the ring, a smug grin on his face. He's abandoned his armor and his shirt, revealing terrifying tattoos tracing all along is Burned skin. If he wasn't terrifying then, he surely is now. There's no weapons I can see on him, so I cross my fingers and pray that he won't pull any tricks.

Hands raised up into the air, Daedalus laughs and yells triumphantly, the crowd responding in fervor. He stalks the ring like he owns the place, which isn't far from the truth.

A few seconds later, Kyros walks slowly out of his corner and up into the ring.

His shoulders droop slightly, but there's fire in his eyes. His jaw is locked tight, a tight-lipped frown cemented onto his face. He's also abandoned the trench coat and the t-shirt he had on under it, and he's wrapped his knuckles up in a white gauze-like material.

He's still wearing Andi's necklace however, and I think she sees it at the same time as I do. For a few split seconds, her eyes flicker with recognition, and she sucks in a sharp breath.

Seconds later, Rhea returns, and she lets out a scoff.

Kyros raises his fists up in a ready position, bouncing once, twice on the balls of his feet before settling down again. Daedalus laughs and throws a few punches at the air before motion for the referee to commence the battle.

With the loud sound of a gunshot, hell breaks loose.

Daedalus, previously seeming nonchalant and overconfident, changes his semblance immediately and lunges at Kyros.

His fists raise to block the blow, even landing a punch at the man's ribcage, but Daedalus is one of the Burned. He doesn't feel pain.

Seconds later, Kyros is bodily slammed into the chain link wall of the ring, the crowd exploding in frenzied cheers.

But my ghost is far from finished.

He grabs hold of the metal frame of ring and lifts himself up, his boots slamming into Daedalus' chest seconds afterwards.

The Burned man is launched backwards, giving Kyros a few seconds to charge at him. With a few deft kicks, my friend kicks the king of the Burned smack in the face.

The crowd grows silent. I don't think they're used to seeing their king fighting against someone who can actually take him.

There's blood that pours from Daedalus' nose as he stands, a wicked snarl escaping his lips. And then he charges again.


For a few seconds that feel like an eternity, it's impossible to tell who's winning-a mess of flying fists, yells of anger, and splatters of blood that stain the still air.