The crowd roared like a wild storm.
Cheers echoed off stone walls, chants rising from the lips of gamblers, mercenaries, and thrill-seekers all packed into the arena's stands. The iron scent of blood still hung in the air when the announcer raised her hand.
"And the winner—again! The undefeated, the unstoppable—Radar!"
Raven's chest heaved with adrenaline. Sweat slicked her brow, and her knuckles were bloodied, but the smirk on her lips told everyone what they already knew.
She was a beast in the ring.
She raised a gloved fist to the crowd before hopping off the bloodstained platform, disappearing behind the curtain and into the changing rooms.
The sound of the crowd dulled behind thick stone walls, replaced by dripping pipes and low muttering.
"Hope you enjoyed that, Radar," came a teasing voice.
Raven turned to see a figure leaning against a cracked mirror—shoulders relaxed, jaw sharp, and a wicked gleam in her eyes.
Arcade.
Sage.
Her copper-blonde hair had been chopped into a sharp, jagged cut, her once soft features now framed by bold piercings and dark liner. She looked like danger—and in this city, that was survival.
Raven pulled the wraps from her wrists, grinning. "He talked too much. Thought he'd win by taunting me."
Arcade chuckled. "He thought wrong."
They didn't use their real names anymore. Not here. Not in Black Hollow, a city ruled by crime lords and power brokers—where identity was a currency too dangerous to spend.
It had been nearly a year since they vanished from the palace walls. A year since they shed their birthrights like second skin and carved a new place for themselves in the world's underbelly.
Radar and Arcade weren't princesses anymore.
They were fighters. Survivors. Queens in a city that crowned no one.
And yet, even beneath the grime, the grit, and the names they wore like armor... the past still pulsed like a hidden wound.
Later That Night – Black Hollow
The moonlight leaked through cracked wooden shutters, casting silver streaks across the creaky floorboards of their modest home in the heart of Black Hollow. The hum of the city never truly died—distant voices, clinking bottles, the occasional shriek from some unfortunate soul down an alley. But inside their walls, all was still.
Until Raven jolted awake, breath caught in her throat, sweat clinging to her skin.
Her hands clawed at the sheets, eyes wild. For a second, she wasn't in their bed. She was back in the dark again—lost in those woods, the wolf's glowing eyes staring back at her.
A soft rustle came from the bed across the room. "You had it again, didn't you?" Sage's voice was groggy, but gentle.
Raven didn't answer at first. She sat up, letting the breath slowly return to her lungs. Then she swung her legs over the edge of the bed, rubbing her face before pushing to her feet. Crossing to the cracked sink, she grabbed a chipped glass bottle of water and drank half of it in one go.
"It's always the same," she muttered, her voice rough. "I hear the growl before I see him. Always the same damned eyes."
Sage sat up, arms around her knees, watching carefully. "We've tried everything, Rae. Every seer, whisper broker, witch, charmer—hell, even that silver-tongued demon on third street. No one knows anything."
Raven's fingers tightened around the bottle.
"I've given up," she said, voice low and sharp. "Let him find me, if he's even real. I'm done chasing shadows."
Her eyes, usually a cool storm-grey, shimmered gold in the moonlight—wild and ancient.
Sage didn't say anything. She knew better than to try.
The silence hung like a held breath.
Meanwhile... En Route to Talon
The horses moved at a steady pace along the jagged trail leading toward Talon—the infamous City of Thieves. Lanterns hung from the trees, slowly fading as dawn's light threatened to breach the sky.
John adjusted his cloak, his jaw tight as he scanned the crooked skyline forming in the distance. The place reeked of secrets, and his instincts were sharp.
Beside him, Brian rode in silence, eyes narrowed. He'd been here before—years ago—but not as a royal escort.
This time, he returned as something else.
As Talon came into view, a city carved into the bones of cliffs and shadows, they both knew: if Raven was anywhere... it would be here.
The sun had barely dipped behind the cracked stone walls of Talon when Brian reached out, grabbing John by the sleeve just before they passed through the rusted city gates.
"We're not walking in like this," he said, glancing at John's crest-marked cloak and noble stance. "You want to get jumped before sundown?"
John scoffed but relented, pulling off his outer layer and tucking it away. Brian did the same, both of them now looking like just two regular travelers—tired, a little dusty, and hopefully uninteresting.
Talon smelled like smoke, sweat, and secrets. A place where coin ruled, and eyes followed every step.
It didn't take long for the dull thud of fists and the roar of a crowd to draw them in. Down a narrow alley, lit by flickering torches, a large crowd had gathered around a makeshift arena—an underground fighting ring. Brian's eyes lit with curiosity.
"Looks like our kind of place," he muttered.
Inside the circle of people, a fighter stood tall and victorious. The announcer's voice boomed over the cheers:
"And once again, Radar remains undefeated! The Queen of Claws strikes again!"
The fighter turned—tall, lean, eyes wild with adrenaline. She wore dark wraps, scars visible along her arms, her hair cut jagged and short. There was something magnetic about her presence—commanding, feral... familiar?
Brian narrowed his eyes. He couldn't place it. Just something in the way she moved, like he'd seen her before. Or felt her.
"Let's hear it!" the announcer called. "Anyone brave enough to challenge Radar tonight? One-on-one, three rounds, no claws, no killing."
The crowd hushed.
No one stepped forward.
Then Brian, almost without thinking, raised a hand. "I'll do it."
John turned his head, eyebrows raised. "You sure?"
Brian gave a casual shrug. "She looks interesting."
He stepped into the ring, the crowd parting. Radar (Raven) tilted her head as she looked him over. "What's your name, boy?" she asked, voice sharp like flint.
That voice.
It almost knocked the breath out of him, but he masked it with a grin. "Call me Copper," he answered smoothly.
The crowd whistled at the tension.
"Let the match begin!" the announcer shouted.
Round One
They circled each other slowly. Brian moved with the ease of a trained wolf, while Radar crouched low, eyes locked, calculating.
She struck first—fast. A kick to the ribs, followed by a sweeping punch.
Brian blocked just in time, barely keeping up.
The round ended in her favor. The crowd roared.
Round Two
This time, Brian fought smarter—using her momentum against her, dodging and striking back. They were nearly evenly matched. But right before the bell, she flipped him over her shoulder and pinned him for half a second.
Again, the round went to her.
Round Three
Both fighters were breathing hard now. Sweat glistened on their skin, but neither was backing down.
Raven was surprised—he was good. Too good for a normal drifter. Something about his footwork, his restraint... and his scent. She couldn't place it, but it itched at her mind like a memory trying to break free.
Brian felt the same. Every blow she landed on him left a warmth in his chest that had nothing to do with pain. Her eyes—those stormy, stubborn eyes...
The round ended in a blur of strikes, and the crowd shouted as Radar spun behind him, locked his arm, and brought him down to one knee. Not enough to hurt—just enough to win.
The crowd exploded in cheers.
Radar stepped back, offering a small nod. Brian stood, winded, bruised—but grinning.
"You fight well," she said simply, turning to leave.
Brian opened his mouth to speak—Wait... do I know you?—but the announcer cut in, shouting her name again.
And just like that, she was gone into the crowd, Sage at her side, disappearing like smoke.
Brian stood there, heart racing. His instincts were screaming something at him.
But all he could do was stare at where she had been