Winner (April 2026) "The Jack of Elyra and the Death God" (Part 2)

My head is ringing. Not metaphorically. Literally. As if a tiny furious bell has taken up residence behind my eyes and refuses to stop announcing my existence.

I squint at the ceiling.

White. Sterile. Smug.

"Ah," I croak. "So, this is how it ends. Murdered by architecture."

"Aira."

Of course.

I turn my head and immediately regret the invention of necks. Pain blooms sharp and sudden, the kind meant to teach lessons. My brother stands beside the bed, arms crossed so tightly I'm surprised he hasn't snapped himself in half.

"You knocked yourself unconscious," he says.

"Yes," I reply. "I wanted to make an impression."

He stares at me like he's deciding whether love is worth the effort.

"You humiliated yourself," he says.

"I prefer theatrics," I say weakly. "Frankly speaking it was your fault. You distracted me."

The palace infirmary smells like crushed herbs and poor decisions. My head is wrapped. My dignity is not. Someone has clearly decided I am not to be trusted with standing upright without supervision.

Before my brother can launch into the lecture he's clearly been rehearsing since dawn, the doors sweep open.

The council enters.

They move like a procession at a funeral -- robes heavy, expressions carved from exhaustion and disappointment. Halvek clears his throat, the sound carrying far more weight than it should.

"The duel has concluded."

"I'd argue that," I say. "Mostly because I wasn't conscious for the ending."

"The heroine has been declared the victor."

I stare at him.

I stare so hard my headache flares in protest.

"...No," I say carefully. "That doesn't seem accurate."

Mereth frowns. "You were incapacitated."

"By myself," I say. "Which is impressive, but not competitive."

I push myself up on my elbows, wincing. "Let the record show: I tripped. I misspoke a spell. I lost a fight to distraction and gravity. At no point did she strike me."

The heroine stands near the doorway, quiet and pale and far too composed for someone who just altered my future. She hesitates, then speaks.

"I didn't hurt her," she says softly. "I tried to stop the duel."

"There," I say. "Witness testimony. Can we adjourn?"

No one smiles.

"The outcome stands," Halvek says. "Defeat is defeat."

A laugh slips out of me -- thin, brittle. "So, if I faint dramatically in front of you, does that mean I've lost an argument, too?"

Silence answers.

"And now," I say, voice dropping, steadier than I feel, "you'll carry out the punishment."

Mereth opens his mouth.

Then closes it.

That look passes between them again -- the one they use when I've complicated matters by existing incorrectly.

"Given," Halvek says slowly, "the unconventional nature of the defeat, the council has decided to delay the sentence."

I blink. "Delay."

"You embarrassed the proceedings," Mereth snaps.

"I do that," I reply faintly.

"The matter requires...reconsideration," Halvek continues. "A proper conclusion."

"So," I summarize, "I lost. Just not well enough."

"Yes."

They turn to leave, robes swishing like punctuation marks at the end of a very long sentence.

The heroine lingers a moment longer, eyes full of something like guilt.

"I didn't want this," she says.

"I know," I reply. "That somehow makes it worse."

She leaves.

The room falls quiet. My brother says nothing. He doesn't have to.

She leaves.

The room falls quiet. My brother says nothing. He doesn't have to.

Because I can feel it -- this pause is not mercy. It's indecision.

And indecision, I've learned, is where the worst fates sharpen their edges.

I stare at the ceiling again and huff a quiet, humorless laugh.

If death is waiting for me, it's doing a terrible job of being punctual.

From the Author

I like to write
And read
And sing
And draw
And play the piano

You can find more of Ri's work HERE.