Dusk. The sun settled onto the horizon like the arm of a struggling man desperately clinging to his last breath. But like a mortal wound, the orb slowly began to sink down under the weight of the darkness. No longer able to hold on any more it sank deeper and deeper into the earth and the sand absorbed the last day’s light as if were blood. The golden grains glittered as if singing a last farewell, reflecting the light and the colour of the sky, turning orange and pink and red. And soon dusk would creep away and night would take over this vast land of Ranajira. And upon this night no moon would shine and only the lights of thousands of stars high above would light the way. Tonight the battle would grow interesting as the dangers of this place were realized on one unsuspecting man, one warrior; Elijah Morendale.
Acyutani could barely wait. The thrill of another battle thrummed through her veins in time with the pulse of her blood. She needed the next release, the next battle and the next warrior to enter this place. She wanted to test her skills even more, she wanted to push them to their limits and she wanted to do it now. The first had been interesting. The first had been fun. But like everything else, it had ended and she could not wait for the second. And then finally she had received a challenge. A warrior, a name and a weapon, that’s all that mattered about it at that moment. But the name was still not his.
Merely thinking about him and how long it had been since her eyes had fallen upon his face brought back too many unwanted emotions. He had been the one to leave. He could have waited, she would have come back. At most her missions would have taken two months, at most. She’d given him the option to stay. He’d turned and walked away. And without him, she had fallen into this.
Closing her eyes, Acyutani drew in a deep and heavy breath. The deep red shawl wrapped around her face shifted and swayed as she slowly exhaled. No wind swept across the sands tonight and without the gentle sound of it breathing through her ears, Ranajira seemed too quiet. Nothing moved, even the sheer and light material wrapped around her chest and shoulders seemed unnaturally still. It rose and fell as she drew in her steady and deep draws for air, but tonight not even the sands dared to move.
I miss you. When will you come find me? Will you ever step foot in this place or have you forgotten about me? Because no matter what I do, I can’t seem to forget about you.
When her eyes opened, they stared out at the same desert and the same setting sun. Crushing her frustration by the sheer will of her mind, Acyutani put her back to the sun. She didn’t want to watch it anymore. Instead, her black eyes focused on the pillars of obsidian, the claw like and disfigured fingers that rose into sharp points towards the sky. Soon it would almost be too dark to see them. Would they seem like nothing but shadows along the forest floor until an arm or a leg scraped up against the rough and sharp edges. In the middle lay one pillar slightly different from the rest. Along one side the surface gleamed as if shined and polished and was smooth to the touch. Two names now lay along that side, Gareth Vandeburg and Nyadir D’Var. The man she had fought to gain this position and the first warrior to challenge her. Now came the second. She could only hope this Elijah would bring something interesting into her great arena.
Beyond The Valley of the Dead lay a sea of sand. Its waves cut deep and hid many a surprise and many a danger. One of which she hoped would surface tonight, on this night of no moon. For they only ever dared to venture from their caves when nearly no light could hurt them and within less then fifteen minutes, the radiance of the sun would be all but gone.
Shifting her feet in the sand, Acyutani casually leaned against one of the obsidian claws. The rough stone bit through the thin material covering her body and pressed against her skin. She could feel it longing to draw blood from her and maybe it would. But not right now. Her arms folded across her chest in a cascade of material that covered and hid her, not only from the sun and the heat but hid exactly who she was. Acyutani had yet to fight in the Pagoda using her real name or allowing anyone to see her face. She didn’t know why. When she’d first challenge that young man, something within her had provoked her to use a different name before she’d even thought it through. So now she fought under something assumed and now she was nothing more than a faceless warrior. It shouldn’t matter to her opponents what she looked like under this or how she acted outside this place. Here, she was someone different.
With the sun behind her, Acyutani watched and waited for any sign of her opponent arriving.