Page 107 of Daughter of the Serpent

It was her decision, her choice.

Before she could speak, another voice cut through the din - a voice that slid like oil over water. “I will allow it.”

Rederick stepped forward, his presence commanding as he moved past the elders, a wolfish grin spreading across his face. His eyes glinted, the wicked gleam of a predator who smelled blood. He looked over Sylvie with slow, mocking disdain, the corners of his lips curling further when he met her gaze. “If she would like to risk her life now, who are we to stop her?” He drawled. “Let her have her chance in the ring.”

Something wicked flashed in those green eyes - something Sylvie had rather not seen.

Was she making a terrible mistake? Should she turn back now, before it was too late?

The elders turned to Rederick, their faces a storm of conflict - resentment, frustration. But his was a voice that carried weight among them, a voice that couldn’t be ignored. Slowly, they drew back, stepping aside, though their eyes never left her. Their disapproval hung thick in the air like smoke, suffocating.

Sylvie forced herself to stand tall, her chin lifting as she met Rederick’s gaze head - on, refusing to flinch beneath the weight of hiseyes.

His grin widened.

“Let the girl have her chance,” he said again, this time loud enough for the crowd to hear. “We’ll see if her courage matches her ambition.”

Sylvie swallowed hard, her heart slamming against her ribs. She fought to keep her expression blank, not wanting to show how the fear cut through her. She stepped further into the ring, feeling the eyes of the crowd burn into her back, their whispers buzzing like flies. All the while, Rederick’s gaze lingered on her, dark and merciless, savoring every moment as if this was all a game - one where he knew the ending.

Sylvie turned to face the rest of the delegates, their eyes assessing her like a piece of meat on display. Some seemed impressed by her boldness, while others exchanged looks of annoyance at her audacity. Haldor’s eyes met hers, and a warning flickered in those eyes of blue ice. She knew he was furious, and that she would feel the full extent of his lashing tongue later.

“Since she’s so eager," Rederick's voice sliced through her thoughts, his smile stretching wider, eyes gleaming with wicked amusement. "Let us see how she fares against one of our finest.” His gaze flicked to the remaining warriors. “Bjorn! Take up your ax.”

The crowd parted as Bjorn stepped forward, his face darkening, whether with excitement or offense she couldn’t quite tell. His expression twisted into a cruel smile, his eyes locking on hers with an unsettling intensity. Sylvie could feel the weight of his disdain bearing down on her.

"With pleasure.” Bjorn sneered, his voice lashing along her like a cruel wind. “I’ve been waiting for this moment.”

His arm reached out, showcasing the sizable ax in his grip. “Let’s see what color you bleed, serpent’s daughter."

Her stomach clenched, fear coiling inside her, but it quickly turned to something else - something sharper.

As her eyes darted between Bjorn and Rederick, sitting tall at the edge of the ring on his plush red cushions, anger boiled her blood.She let the fire inside her flare to life, her magic pulsing beneath her skin, building, waiting to be unleashed.

Closing her eyes for a brief moment, she recalled Axel’s teachings - how to harness her emotions, how to let them fuel her power without consuming her. She honed her anger, feeding it with memories of every sneer, every whisper, every dismissive glance she’d ever endured from people like Bjorn, like Rederick, like the ones now watching her, waiting for her to fail. They had always seen her as small, weak, a burden - an insignificant servant unworthy of her place.

No more.

Her magic surged, heating her blood. Though she knew she couldn’t use it in the ring, she let it fuel her. She opened her eyes, locking onto Bjorn’s cruel smirk. This was her chance, her moment to prove she was more than they believed. She would fight. She would bleed. But she would not be weak, not now, not ever again. Her muscles tightened with anticipation.

She would show them all.

She took a step forward, her heart pounding with the rhythm of her resolve. She wasn’t just fighting Bjorn - she was fighting every doubt, every limitation they had placed on her. She refused to be the fragile child they wanted her to be.

Today, she would be something else entirely.

Once the horn was blown, and signal given, she took her place in the arena, her heart pounding in her ears. The sun bore down, casting long shadows, dust swirled around her feet as she adjusted her stance, feeling the weight of the moment pressing down on her. She could hear the faint rustle of the spectators, the occasional cheer or gasp as they anticipated the clash. The other’s took their places around her, each ready with drawn swords and axes for the second round of testing.

It was clear, as much as they said this was just practice, training - there would be no mercy.

Across from her, her opponent stepped forward.

Even though her heart thrummed in her chest, and sweat began to collect along the side of her brow, she stood strong. She had been waiting her whole life for this moment.

She could not fail.

“It’s okay if you want to flee, little bird…” Bjorn purred, thumbing his tangled beard. His long yellow hair reached almost his back in a thick tangled mat, beads of silver threaded through it. His clothes were dusted with remaining dirt and debris from his previous victories, his eyes sharp upon his set prey. “No one will blame you.”

Sylvie’s eyes squared, her fists curling.

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