Down End Road

Alexander Griffin

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I sucked in a sharp breath and tensed unnoticeably. Myra had completely obliterated Genevieve, and using MY tactic, mixed in with a little bit of her own. Myra had strung her along until she had tired herself out. I could tell that the reason she had ended it so swiftly was because she had become irritated and distracted when she saw everyone betting on them.

I was surprised that Henry had put money on her. However, by the way his eyes had followed her movements with a cheeky glint, I could tell he was more than little curious about what she could do. Not to mention which family she had inherited her skill from.

She had surprised me when she commented about me being amused. I made sure to show little to none emotion but somehow, she could read me like one a book. I could tell Maverick was more than inquisitive about it, but he wisely kept his mouth shut.

After, a few moments of buzzed conversation from the sizeable crowd, the professor’s shrill, ear-splitting whistle sounded and summoned me and Myra to the sparring circle. I could see her feet lightly bounce with adrenaline. I knew that feeling all too well.

Over the years I had learned to master my emotions, it was consequential to do otherwise. I had learned that the hard way. I had my reasons for the way I was, and I was not planning on telling anyone else those reasons ever.

However, Myra: bright, witty, magnificent, Myra, somehow managed to see through all that. Maybe that was because she was the first person who bothered to look. Maybe it was just who she was. Who knew?

I shuffled into the circle, giving her one last communicative glance as if to say, ‘my offer still stands’. With a bob of her braids she shook her head and replied ‘no’. Myra and her stubborn pride.

Well, that was her problem not mine, I winced at the harshness of my thoughts but mentally scolded myself for even thinking about her. I positioned myself into a defensive stance and so did she.

This was going to be like fighting a mirror, I thought. The piercing screech of the whistle sounded again, and we both lunged at each other. I went high, and aimed for her head, but she went low. In a very low lunge, she brought her sword up and clashed it with mine.

She blinked and seemed to come to the realisation of what she had done. We had not been taught that move, and I had definitely not taught her that, so where had she learned it? We both withdrew from our stance and began circling each other. I cocked my head to the side and studied her movements intently.

She favoured her right side but was strong on the left as well. Low murmurs of conversation spilled out from the crowd. Harris studied her also. I could practically see the gears ticking in his head. I charged forward, my sword pointed at the exposed piece of her suit, that wasn’t covered in armor.

At the speed of a cheetah, she jumped back but stepped forward again. In a whirlwind of jabs and blows, that were meant to tire me out more than her, she attacked.Eyes of ocean blue brightened more and more the longer we sparred for.

One minute. Two minutes. Three minutes. Four minutes. By minute five, a thin trickle of sweat barreled down my neck. We both panted for air. Our chests heaved heavily, our lungs longed for more oxygen and a familiar burn ripped through my muscles. We were putting each other through the ringer.

People had started to bet on the fight again, and to my surprise I saw Harris exchange a twenty dollar bill with a young boy who couldn’t be more than fifteen. I internally laughed to myself.

A small smirk graced my lips, as I watched fatigue sweep over Myra. I felt a similar wave of exhaustion wash over me, but I ignored it. She sprinted toward me and raised her sword. I charged at her and at the last second she slid down and tried to tap the back of my unprotected calf, but I jumped at least four feet in the air. I landed with a boom and she stood up with a cringe-worthy shriek from her shoes.

We focused back on each other.Her eyes began to brighten, their normal ocean blue colour being slowly swallowed up by an almost violet glow. I cocked my head to the side and she mirrored my movement. I saw Harris shuffle restlessly at the entrance and knew he had seen it to.

Her stance changed from defensive to attack. I knew something was wrong .Her usually focused and calm expression morphed into one of aggression. My heart leaped as she focused the intensity of her uncut, brutal, assessing stare on me.

She surged forward, almost tapped the side of my throat, but I swerved out of the way and fell to the ground. Myra pounced upon me, her sword twirled in the air. I scooted backwards, the alarming red edge becoming closer and closer.

She jabbed at the armor on my chest with her sword harshly. The move was followed by several more directed to the armor plates. Her technique became more and more aggressive, the further I scooted back. I tried to fend her off, but she was too quick and batted my sword across the circle and out of my hands.

I raised my hands out in front of me, they were quickly swatted away by her sword a small grunt of pain left my lips, almost inaudible. The black dull sword struck my side, twice! Another grunt escaped me.

I was defenceless. The only plan that came to mind was to run to the other side of the circle and get my sword back. On impulse I ran to the side of Myra, I almost passed her head before her sword came cracking down on my protected calf.

I fell to the ground. Reputation surely in shambles. Alexander Griffin does not get beaten to the ground. The encroaching sense of shame enveloped me, as I looked around the room and saw the shock on everyones faces.

No! Screamed a voice in the back of my head, No the fight isn't over yet. I felt a sense of renewed perseverance surge through my veins. If only I could get to my sword, I thought.

Hurried movements had Myra towering over me, her presence suffocated my confidence. I investigated her glowing violet eyes, I searched for any trace of her oceanic blue iris’, any trace of her. I tried think of a way to get through to her. A way to break her out of her haze.

A broken feeling shrouded my senses as I continued to study Myra's face. I couldn't loose her. I couldn't let her do something she would hate herself for.

She took menacing steps toward me, an icy calm in her gaze that sent shivers of dread down my spine. Whatever that was wasn't her. I had a feeling she had no intention of stopping until far past her point of redemption.

I needed to bring her back. I tried to think of a solution, anything. Finally, in my desperation, when I thought she was in earshot I said in the meekest, most saddened tone I had ever used, "Myra."

Her ocean blue eyes faded back into focus. They devoured the violet glow, and a look of pure exhaustion overcame her features. Her shoulders noticeably drooped, and her whole frame sagged under the weight of her blunt edged sword.

I took that as my opportunity and leapt up. I sprinted to my sword and raised it in my hands. Whispers and muffled conversations began to fill the silence as I came closer and closer to Myra. She tried to remain agile and alert, but she was too tired.

I swung my sword to the side and as it sliced through the air, Myra’s face contorted into an expression of realisation and determination...

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Guys be proud I just did tons of editing for this Chapter.