Xemris breathed deep to cycle the anger through her veins as she waited motionless on the dueling grounds. The Nether was so weak here in the mortal realm; she could barely feel the heat unless she used her own Source. For a moment she missed the swirling magic mists of home, so rich with Nether that one could start a fire just by thinking about it. Once Father won the contest the humans had so foolishly entered into, their city would become a permanent beachhead for the Netherwell and the process of overthrowing the Twin Defilers would begin in earnest. Then the wild magic those two monsters had chained into their blasphemous cards would run free once again. The Great Continuum would be restored.

Meanwhile, though, she was forced to sully her mind with their cursed cards. They had to play the Defilers' game in order to break it, Father had said. Not that he ever plays the game directly, she thought with a hint of sourness. He was the only one who had amassed enough power to bring this glorious plan into being, but he was not shy about forcing others to get their hands dirty in the process, herself included. Thus she stood here, mind full of the Twins' slaves as if she were one of these mortals herself, waiting and praying for the day when enough cards had been liberated back into the raw chaos of magic that the whole system came crashing down and the Defilers were dethroned. She refused to look up at the glowing figures. False gods. The only god she knew was the blissful clarity found in the clash of tooth and claw.

In that, at least, she found some pleasure in this contest, especially as she waited to face the wayward demon Hull. His fury was a sight to behold, and though they'd briefly come to grips while fighting in the throne room, she felt joy at the prospect of coming to truly know him as they fought. Once she had mastered that power of his, she would spare his life and he would make a fine mate for a time. She would help him understand the true shape of the world.

And yet, as she shifted from foot to foot, waiting for him to arrive opposite her, a tiny worm of doubt wriggled in her breast. He had not been Mythic when she had faced him in the mortal realm less than a day past; in fact, his eyes had held no glimmer at all. She had respected his ability to somehow rise to power and mastery without having his soul chained into one of the Twins' cards, but in this he showed the trickery of his parentage. He had revealed his true self once his match against the Orc had begun, and while she'd been disappointed to see that he did indeed have a soul card, the challenge he represented now was a far more worthy one. Either she or her father would have to kill Yveda the Fluid if she ever hoped to make him a proper demon. That mother of his seemed more Fae than demon at times; she was a foul influence that needed to be culled from the Unyielding Court.

Xemris's pulse quickened as Hull appeared. His shaggy hair curled about the nape of his neck, and his glower spoke of an endless will to fight. It was that look that had interested her from the beginning: they would need to test themselves against each other daily for years to come, and she knew in all three of her hearts that neither of them would ever truly concede defeat to the other. What a rarity to find an equal in this realm of weaklings and appeasers. She could feel the heat of his gaze. He wanted her, too. She knew it in her bones.

"Sorry I have to kill you," he said. "You and your dad should have stayed out of my city."

A laugh bubbled out of her unexpectedly. "If you can kill me then you may keep your squalid stack of stones. But have you not listened to the Mentor I gave you? The true prize is here, between us, right now."

He frowned at her, obviously confused. "What the hell are you talking about?"

She curled her fingers into a fist, enjoying her anger, her tail lashing in anticipation. "The fight, Hull. It is the only true honesty that exists. The true union."

He took a deep breath and shoved his hands into his pockets. He wanted to reach for her and was resisting the urge; she could feel it. "You're pretty damn weird, lady."

She smiled and pointed a finger skyward without looking at the Defilers. "Weird is using the enslaved souls of the dead to fight your battles for you. You will see. Come." She beckoned to him, savoring the flame of fear that he might best her. "Come learn from me."

The unholy twins showed their soul cards to everyone in the stands, but Xemris did not look at them. She had memorized this man's card when first she saw it. His abilities were powerful, and an interesting counterpoint to her own. For a bare moment she toyed with the idea of killing Hull. Without question his death would be enough to let her take a new name. Then perhaps Father would let her cease her shameful work as his torturer and she could embark on her long-deferred quest to fight her way to the top of the Unyielding Court, changing names until she was a Yveda herself… or perhaps even Primarch. No, not yet. Time enough for that after they had been mates for a season.

The ante cards showed themselves.

Orghast was chosen, of course. Yveda the Fluid had lent her the use of her Legendary Spell during the fight against that filthy Fae girl – an unlooked-for boon that left Xemris wondering what strings the elder demon wished to tie to her – but she'd taken it back once she saw the second round bracket, saying she'd not let her cards be used against her son. An unacceptable sentiment, but Xemris's own Orghast might be better for this match anyway – she wasn't sure, but she thought Hull might have a Legendary squirreled away in his deck that he'd kept out of sight during his first match. His ante was Mythic, but that wasn't a sure indicator of the absence of a Legendary; the Defilers loved to be tricky almost as much as Yveda the Fluid. She put the thoughts from her mind. She would take whatever card the Defilers gave her and use it if she had to, but soon enough all cards would be fed into the Netherwell and she would never have to touch one again. It was inevitable.

They played their first Source for the opening gambit. Unsurprisingly, it was Nether for them both. Hull looked halfway like a proper demon with the spiky purple ball circling his head despite his smooth human skin and lack of horns. Their Sources pulsed in time with each other. They both pulled cards and considered their options, mulliganing as necessary. Xemris was happy to keep what she'd gotten.

A glittering star fell from on high, falling down from the Defilers themselves to bounce around on the floor between them. The light resolved itself into a bouncing die as large as a cart wheel and clattered like thunder on the ethereal stones. Half of the faces showed a stylized human head and the others a horned demon skull.

"He's not human," she called up to the Defilers, offended on his behalf.

"Half," he said, scowling at her.

The huge die landed with a demon head facing up, and her mind loosened. She'd won the toss, though she'd privately hoped not to. Her best first play required more Source than she could bring to bear if she went first. The Defilers did love their tricks.

A growl rose in her throat. The Spell that made up the centerpiece of her deck sat in her hand, but she couldn't cast it yet.

She ached to come to grips with Hull, but she wouldn't let her own desire for the intimacy of first blood dull her wits. If she attacked now, not only would she take his 4 damage in return, but he would activate his ability to bring down 6 more on her head while he took nothing himself. She would impress no one by taking 10 damage on her own first turn. She thumped her tail on the ground in frustration and let her turn pass.

Hull, for his part, had no such compunction. He briefly considered his own hand and then brought forth a Soul.

A hiss of annoyance escaped her. She couldn't use her Stanch the Flow until this little muck-dweller was dealt with. Hull might be young and he might be confused about how the world really worked, but there was no question he was a canny fighter.

As if to prove the point, he rushed at her with his fist raised. Again, the thought of grappling, of their breath in each others' faces, made the base of her horns tingle, but she would control herself. She'd left her Nether unused for exactly this eventuality. She devoted it now to activate her ability, and she spun on the spot, her thick, powerful tail knocking him from his feet and derailing his attack. He popped right back up, teeth bared, but his turn had passed.

Her next turn brought her nothing that would help her immediately to remove that damnable Spell Drinker. Clicking her tongue, she let her turn pass again, doing nothing more than putting up more Nether Source. She could feel Father's gaze boring down at her from the competitors' box, demanding that she be excellent, be better. Firming her jaw, she thrust her desire to please the Primarch aside. She was the duelist here, and she was making the best moves possible. She would not care whether someone outside the square where she fought wanted her to bring them entertainment more quickly.

Hull smiled grimly and a weapon appeared in his fist.

Xemris barked a laugh. A good thing she hadn't drawn one of her Medallions; she'd have had to discard it immediately if she allowed his strike to connect. Sure enough, Hull came in on the attack again. Actually connecting was a distant wish, though: her Tail Trip once again interrupted him. They had each other stalemated for the moment.

"I thought the fight showed us the truth about each other," he yelled, face flushed with frustration. "I didn't think I'd find a coward across from me."

For a moment she was blind with rage. Coward?! She would peel his skin from his flesh and feed it to him. But no, he was merely using another tactic to fight, trying to goad her into an unwise move, which was in itself very wise. She bared her sharp teeth at him. "You think I enjoy wasting my precious early-game Source swatting at flies? You barge in swinging. You lack finesse."

His red face went nearly purple, and her heart swelled with gladness. If she could not yet feel their flesh striking together, then barbs of the tongue would sweeten the anticipation. The joy was almost enough to allay the annoyance that on her next turn she could once again do nothing. She had to keep Source ready to deflect his constant attacks, and it was slowing her gameplay in the most irritating fashion.

Not so for Hull. When he drew his next cards his anger vanished and a wide smile split his face. He devoted 2 Source and brought forth a Relic and a Soul.

She'd seen similar talismans before, but never one raised to Mythic. It was a dread object, and she'd known that he had one, though not that he'd had it elevated. She wished heartily to have the card in hand that she'd put a double of into her deck specifically for this match.

With that equipped she'd severely reduce the effectiveness of the Relic, but for now both copies were still buried in her mind somewhere. The arrival of the Bog Imp activated the talisman, sending a dart of power streaking toward her. She threw one of her Commons at it; it was nothing she couldn't afford to lose at the moment.

Then, though, the attack came again, not just from Hull and his hammer, but from the newly summoned Imp. She could have Tripped them both, but it made more sense to let the Imp's strike land to kill it. He was hoping she'd use more Source to keep it at bay, and she wouldn't play into his plans any more than she had to. Her tail sideswiped Hull, but the Bog Imp darted in with claws extended. Taking its head off was a pale imitation of actually confronting her opponent, but she'd always believed one could sense the character of a duelist when facing their summons. Indeed, there was a clean tang of bright anger and passion in the air when the Imp died, and there was a whiff of Hull about it. Good. He is as I have believed. She was forced to discard a card she'd hoped would be useful in pecking the boy down to size while minimizing the effectiveness of his devastating soul ability, but it was worth it to take the pesky Soul off the field.

Finally, though, on her next turn she was able to make a useful move, one that would unstick her from this stalemate and turn the tables in her favor. She knew she shouldn't have favorites among the slaves the Twin Defilers made, but within her own heart she could admit she had a soft spot for this creature.

Its fiery breath crisped the cursed Spell Drinker where it lurked in the background, leaving Hull cursing and searching his hand desperately for a response as she climbed on its back and lofted into the air. He nearly pulled a card out, presumably to bring the Drake down, but apparently he thought better of it. Her estimation of the boy inched even higher. He could show just as much control as she when he wished it. He was telling his truth even as he scoffed at the idea.

Once his turn began, Hull pulled the card he'd been fingering, and she saw immediately why he'd waited.

With the Spell being summoned on his own turn, that merciless talisman would double the damage it delivered, reflecting what he would normally take onto her instead. He sent both the gout of Nether flame and the bolt of redirected energy toward her mount. He wanted the creature gone.

Stolen novel; please report.

Fortunately, the Defilers' unnatural rules for the cards it created worked in her favor here: when mounted, she was able to choose where the damage went, and with a grimace she took it all onto herself, discarding cards she had hoped not to lose.

Then, not wanting to empty her increasingly sparse hand, she hazarded a calculated risk and took the last 2 from her Mind Home, shedding 2 more cards.

Unwilling to let even a single turn pass without making an attempt to land a blow himself, Hull also attacked with his hammer. Another of the Defilers' fool rules – not in her favor this time – said that even though her Mount had Flying, she did not, and thus the drake was forced to swoop low against its will to bring her within range when he attacked. She marveled that none of the humans or even the elder races like elves and Deepkin were able to see the artificiality of the false twins. Regardless, Xemris was not so foolish to have left herself unprepared, though: a Tail Trip kept him at bay. Hull lifted his hand in a rude gesture that she only realized in retrospect was aimed at her drake. She laughed. Such a petty thing to do. Even that was charming when coming from him, somehow.

Her next turn finally brought her the freedom to make the move she'd been waiting for since turn 1, and she summoned her persistent Stanch the Flow Spell.

Suddenly the frightening amount of damage this boy could bring to bear felt far more manageable, and a tightness in her tail she hadn't even known was there began to relax. With his Spell Drinker gone he would have no answer for this. She knew he had a Vampiric Blade in his deck that might bring it back later, but she would cross that bridge if and when she came to it. For now, Hull gaped at the Spell in dismay, which made her quite pleased. As nice as it was to face a competent opponent, it was far nicer to see them flailing and unable to fight on their own terms.

"It lasts the whole match," he said, sounding almost plaintive. "Mine's only good for five turns!"

She dearly hoped he wouldn't pull the Sucking Void Spell he was talking about anytime soon; for all his complaints, that Spell had won him the match against the Orc quite handily. "On the field as in the bedroom, stamina is a trait to be sought after," she said mockingly. Perhaps it was too forward of her to be talking about mating before the fight was done, but she didn't care. She already knew what she wanted, and it was what he wanted as well.

Feeling powerful, Xemris kneed her drake, swooping down on her prey. Now she could finally attack. Now they would feel each others' blows. The mount screamed with a hunter's joy, and then came the impact.

It was everything she hoped for as she felt the hammer connect against her mount and saw the glint of fury and fear in his green-flecked eyes. She could smell him. Her talons raked at his flesh and she could feel the warmth bleeding into her fingers from the contact. She laughed delightedly. This was what life was about. She took the damage intended for the drake onto herself, and it was reduced to 1, and when he activated his damage-doubling reflect ability toward it, she did the same, taking 1 more. He'd not be killing her favorite mount that easily. She didn't want to lose either card in hand, one of which was a weapon she intended to use soon, so she risked taking the damage from her Mind Home instead.

Her glee dimmed a bit as she saw the Medallion shred away into nothing. She'd been waiting for that! She had another, of course, and it was less vital now that she had Stanch the Flow in play, but still it felt as if the Defilers were stealing the meaning of the moment with their little tricks. Meanwhile, Hull took her damage by losing one from hand and two from his Mind Home. She focused only enough to see that they were all Uncommons – nothing worth noticing.

"So what do you know about me that you didn't before?" he challenged.

"I will tell you when there are fewer ears listening," she said. "I would not give such intimate secrets to the human girl who dogs your steps."

That seemed to fluster him. "She can hear anything you have to say to me."

Hmmm. It seemed she'd need to break him of more attachments than just one. "And what have you learned of me, Hull?"

"That you're batshit crazy," he retorted, summoning another card.

Even with the upgraded's Plate's protection, he was wary of her now that they'd come to grips. The fact that she and her mount dealt damage separately meant he couldn't avoid all the damage they both dealt unless he had more Source available than he currently did. For the first time, he let his turn pass without attacking. She was both relieved and disappointed.

That disappointment turned even more sour when his talisman reflected the end-of-turn damage from the Plate onto her. It was a single point of damage, a mosquito's bite, and yet she had to discard a card because of it. What an annoyance. She tossed a card out of hand to handle it.

They'd reached the point of the match where she needed to start thinking about whether she needed more Nether in play or if it was more useful held in reserve as a Source Explosion, which would do Sneak Attack damage directly to his Mind Home. A quick glance showed he still had 9 cards in there; far better to wait until she could strip him bare by surprise. Better to have another Source on the field and wait for a smaller Explosion later. In the meantime, she could finally play the card that had been sitting in her hand since the beginning.

The other copy appeared in her hand as she summoned it. Now, even if Hull's hammer forced her to discard the axe she had equipped, she'd still be able to get it back, cycling through the two Relics from turn to turn. That also meant that she'd be able to choose a Relic to discard that wasn't the Demon-Head Medallion if she were ever able to fish it out of her deck and get it equipped.

She'd drawn one of the cards that would let her take a big, deadly swing at him to turn the tide.

As she considered, though, now was not yet the time, especially now that he had that ugly armor on. She didn't have all the pieces in place yet. She bided her time and let the turn pass. She needed to move soon or he'd have so much Source he could reflect everything back at her, but her gut said this wasn't the right turn. Once she got her big Segruval on the board and had perhaps one more Spell to hand, she'd be ready to strike and then polish him off with a Source Explosion.

The new Source Hull brought out was a unique one: it glowed with a rosy hue instead of the usual purple. Likely it produced more Source than normal. She'd have to ask him how he'd cultivated it when the time was right. "Okay, enough of this horseshit," he growled. "I'm sick of getting pecked to death." He devoted a goodly amount of Source, including the unique one, and brought out a pair of cards.

As the starlight armor of his Spell settled around him, he came in on the attack, confident now that she could do nothing to him.

Strangely, the appearance of the Spell she'd been hoping he wouldn't have in hand relaxed her. "I think you've made your fatal error," she murmured. All she had to do was last him out and his deck would disappear. She had enough Source still in her heart to take him down with a Source Explosion once his Mind Home was empty.

"Funny," he grunted as he approached. "I think the exact opposite." He left his Marauder idling in the field behind him, choosing to leave him be rather than let him die on the claws of her drake.

"You forget: I can keep you from attacking," she said gently even as she activated her Tail Trip, sending him stumbling. "All I have to do is wait, and you won't be able to touch him unless I let you."

"I'm not the only one forgetting things," he grinned at her as the end-of-turn damage from his Plate and Demon Marauder channeled through his talisman to strike her.

She compressed her lips to keep from uttering a low oath. Fortunately, since both sources of damage were funneled together through the talisman, they turned into a single point of damage due to her Stanch the Flow Spell. Hull looked disgruntled as he realized she was only losing one card instead of two. She discarded her second axe, knowing she could focus the one she had equipped to get it back as soon as her turn began.

Xemris couldn't remember the last time she'd had so much fun fighting someone. He was pushing her to her limits, and they wee standing toe-to-toe trading their fiercest and wiliest attacks.

It was pointless to batter herself against him now that he had the Sucking Void active; she would take damage and he would take none, and she wouldn't even get the satisfaction of feeling his anger and pain with all impenetrable stuff all over him. With a sigh, she brought her discarded Twin Hook Axe back to hand and cast another of her lingering Spells on herself.

There was nothing else to be done but wait. She held out a hand to him as if to say any time you're ready. She knew it would annoy him.

It did. Setting his jaw, he summoned another Soul.

Xemris felt a chill in her bones. She'd known he had this Yveda, but she'd lost track of the thought in the midst of everything else happening in the battle. A copy split off from the original immediately. If he could produce enough of those to overwhelm her ability to Tail Trip, she'd be done for. She had to nip that Soul in the bud immediately.

First, though, Hull came at her with his hammer again, and unfortunately, he brought the Marauder along in tow. He'd figured out that the Soul wasn't nearly as useful for its end-of-turn damage as he'd hoped.

She thought about having her drake kill the Marauder, but the damage would bleed over to her, and suddenly every extra point of damage felt critical. She Tail Tripped both him and the Marauder, still eying Yveda the Endless and spinning plans in her brain. The point of damage from his Plate-Talisman of Spite combo knocked the Axe out of her hand again, but she hardly thought about it. She'd get it back this next turn in order to keep cycling and having something in hand to block with.

She had a decision to make. She'd been holding on to her Hateful Strikes to land a big blow on Hull, but she had to get rid of that Mythic. Since his summons deck was going to disappear anyway – if he didn't draw it all first – perhaps it was wiser to deal with the immediate threat. Yes. Pumping herself with Nether Source power to bump her Attack up to 4, she then cast twin Spells on the two existing copies of Yveda the Endless before they could split again and get out of control.

"Balls of the underlords," one of the copies grumbled before it shattered. Mythics were never happy when they didn't get to wreak havoc. They assumed it was their right. She was a tad uncomfortable only having enough Source left to Tail Trip a single attacker, but it was unavoidable. He only had a couple of turns left on his Sucking Void. She could do this.

Hull took the loss stoically, forging ahead. An enormous Soul misted into being filling the arena far overhead. It was so large she almost missed the tiny flyer trailing in its wake.

Ice formed in Xemris's veins as they both attacked at once alongside Hull and the Marauder. She Tail Tripped Hull reflexively, but now she was out of Source. She sent her drake to intercept the Root Imp, which burst into light motes the second the drake's claws touched it. Fortunately, her mount's Armor kept it alive, if only barely. The sword swipe from the massive Segruval she took on the chin; it howled in oversized dismay as all its vaunted power was reduced down to a single point of damage that she discarded her handy Axe to absorb. Her last card in hand was her final heavy hitter, Segruval Elfsbane, which she was loath to discard, so the single point she took from the Marauder she discarded from her Mind Home – the final card in her deck – costing her the second copy of her Demon-Head Medallion. A minute ago she'd have been spitting mad over the loss; now, in her sudden desperation, she hardly cared. She just needed to survive until the Sucking Void expired! Her return blow, powered up by her Pain As a Teacher Spell, killed the Marauder.

Hull wasn't done. A Spell rocketed from his hands.

The purple fire died to only a spurt in the face of her Stanch the Flow, but a single point of damage was quite a problem at this point, and it wasn't just 1 point; it was 2 due to the reflect damage of his Talisman of Spite. She shunted 1 to her wounded drake, which crashed to the ground and shattered into motes with a groan. The other she had to block using her Mythic in hand, as much as she didn't want to. It was all she had left.

But she'd survived. His turn was over. She could regroup. She would find away.

Except his turn wasn't over, not quite. Sensing that she was on her final legs, Hull approached with a grim face, clenching down to Source Explode. He shed a nimbus of pearlescent light – one of those Sources had been Order! – and he used the other to send a single point of Sneak Attack damage right at her.

It spun her about and knocked her off her feet, leaving the coppery taste of blood in her mouth. She popped right back up. She would beat him yet, empty Mind Home or no. She still had her fists.

Then the end-of-turn damage from his Talisman arrived, and she heard her ribs break. She doubled over in disbelief as much as from pain. When she looked up, Hull was towering over her.

"I'm not going to kill you," he said. "I can't. I should – they're going to give me hell for it – but you're not the problem here. It's your dad. Somehow it's always a dad."

She forced herself upright despite the screaming pain inside her. She had extra health. She could take more punishment. "I'm not done."

He sighed, and more Souls misted into being behind him. "You are."

"It is no shame to bow before a greater power, Mistress," her old Mentor said. "Better to live, grow stronger, and challenge him again."

He was right, as always. A sense of wonder crept over her. She'd been beaten. Father had never let that happen before.

"I concede," she announced clearly. Then, gripping Hull tightly by the neck of his shirt, she pulled him in and kissed him hard. He kissed her back just as fiercely, and when they parted her blood was on his lips.

"Oh, you're trouble," he whispered.

"You'll find out exactly how much next time we fight," she said. And with that she turned away, striving against the pain to keep her head up and her tail proud. She didn't even flinch when Orghast disappeared from her Mind Home as she lost her ante.

Father would be angry. She didn't care. She'd just found someone she could fight with for the rest of their very long days.

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