The arena was a stage of sand and blood, and the crowd’s roars demanded violence. Banners of two warring kingdoms fluttered overhead, their vibrant colors contrasting with the grim tension below. Jason stood at one end of the pit, his weapon clutched tightly. Across from him stood his lover, their armor gleaming with the insignia of the enemy kingdom. That emblem felt like a slap to the face, though it had never been a secret. He’d always known where they came from, but knowing didn’t soften the sting.

Jason had never imagined it would come to this. War had always been abstract, a distant, terrible thing—but now, here he stood, pitted against the person he loved most. It wasn’t a battle for survival, no, but for pride. Their courts had turned them into pawns, throwing them into this cruel display to gain even the smallest advantage. The absurdity of it burned in Jason’s chest.

He tried to steady his breath as the crowd cheered, urging them to fight. He had to. This wasn’t about love or loyalty—it was about peace. The war had to end, and this fight was part of that. His fingers tightened around his weapon as he took a step forward.

Across the arena, they readied themselves too, their stance steady. His stomach twisted. Were they truly prepared to kill him? Could they? Jason’s heart pounded as he raised his weapon. Kill or be killed—that was the reality. They’d understand. They had to.

Jason rushed forward, but his blade faltered before it could connect. He froze inches away, breath shallow. They didn’t move either, their weapon hovering mid-air. The crowd faded into a distant hum.

“I can’t,” Jason whispered, lowering his weapon. “Not to you.” He stepped closer, eyes searching theirs. “Tell me you don’t feel it too. Tell me you can do it—because I can’t.” His voice cracked, his shoulders trembling.