39
There are moments that sear into visual postcards for your mind. Right now is one of those for me. It’s the vision of Myla and Walker stepping away as they cross the Arena floor. It’s the kind of image that I’ll go back to later on, thinking one of two things:
Here was the golden moment before we triumphed, or …
Right after this, everything fell apart.
I lean against the corridor wall, my gaze locked on their departure. Myla steps over to a group of quasi warriors. Alert and silent, Walker waits near Myla’s side. Up in the stands, angels and demons take their seats. Now, I’m no expert in Arena battles. In fact, when I came here it was mainly to watch Myla, not everyone else. That said, Myla knows her stuff. As she scans the Arena, her brows draw together until there’s a small furrow
