PREVIEW
... had been a pristine cage of light and anticipation—white sands unmarked, air tight with suppressed divinity, ambition simmering beneath ritual smiles. Now, at last, the stillness broke.
The tournament began.
Ares stood above it all, seated upon a floating dais of scarlet stone, one armored leg crossed over the other, chin resting on his fist. His presence alone bent the air toward violence. Every heartbeat in the arena seemed to echo louder under his gaze, as if war itself leane ...
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