The New Girl III
The siltori wished that the Zythuran woman would pass out already, but Nuala was resilient and she suspected that her fury was fueling her. The dawnmartyr knew that she did not have the strength to knock out an opponent with a single strike, so she would need to wear Nuala out.
Feigning a stumble, Veriel lured Nuala closer. As her opponent lunged, Veriel sidestepped and struck her ribs with a swift, brutal punch. Nuala cried out in pain, clutching her side. Sensing another opening, Veriel’s right leg shot out, her foot slamming into Nuala’s sternum. The impact reverberated through her body, driving the air from Nuala’s lungs and sending her sprawling backward.
Right in front of the rows of swords and knives.
Both women realized this at the same moment. Nuala lunged for the weapons, and Veriel gritted her teeth as her opponent rose, a dagger now gleaming in her hand. Veriel glanced up at the guards, hoping they would intervene now that Nuala had broken the ‘no weapon’ rule. But none of them moved. They didn’t even look surprised.
A mistake on her part.
With a sudden burst of speed, Nuala closed the distance and slashed at Veriel. The dawnmartyr instinctively jumped back, but the blade still sliced through her shirt. Nuala tackled her, and they went down hard. Veriel caught Nuala’s wrist, struggling to keep the dagger at bay as they hit the ground. Pain flared up her back from the impact, and Nuala mounted her, pinning her down.
Veriel’s breath came in ragged gasps, her chest constricted by Nuala’s weight. They grappled with the dagger, the blade wavering perilously between them. Nuala’s eyes burned with rage, and Veriel’s muscles strained as she fought to keep the blade away.
With a guttural grunt, Nuala wrenched the dagger free and raised it high. Veriel smiled grimly and bucked her hips, throwing Nuala off balance. Seizing the moment, Veriel twisted, flipping their positions, and grabbed Nuala’s arm. The dagger flew from Nuala’s grip as she fell to the side.
Veriel didn’t waste a second. She climbed on top of Nuala, pinning her to the ground despite her struggles. Without hesitation, Veriel slammed her right fist into Nuala’s face. Then her left. Again and again, she struck, not pausing even as blood began to flow. Nuala’s curses and cries of pain filled the air, but Veriel kept hitting until Nuala went still.
Slowly, the siltori stood and finally looked up at everyone watching. The crowd, once cheering, had fallen silent. From among them, she saw familiar faces pushing to the front. Dawnmartyrs. Nykka. Janryc. Wrynn. Ealric. Hyara. Their eyes were wide and bright, staring at her in awe and recognition.
Veriel glanced down at herself, realizing for the first time that her struggle with Nuala had shredded her shirt. The dark runes tattooed over her emblem could not hide the golden light radiating from it. If anything, the blessing seemed to glow brighter than ever, despite the Imperials' efforts to suppress it.
Every dawnmartyr was taught to recognize those who had been touched by the Lightbringer.
As the dawnmartyrs looked at her with newfound hope, all Veriel felt was the bitter shame clawing up her chest and throat.