Lines of glowing paint traced ancient sigils across the arena floor, blooming outward in burning gold and iron red. Spectral figures, echoes of those who had once fought and died in this place, flickered into existence along the edge of the dueling ring.
This is no real spirit, they were a projection created to honor those fighting in the arena.
Ben, already disguised as Tzarek once more, stepped forward and held up the offering bone, blackened, polished smooth, and engraved with the seal of challenge. He let it fall with a sharp crack into the shallow brazier at the center, where blue fire leapt up and swallowed it whole.
The referee, clad in a crimson robe with silver threads woven into the cuffs, raised both arms.
"By the rites of Nephirid, the offering has been received," she declared, voice amplified by subtle magic. "On this day, before the bound spirits and the eyes of the Primordial flame, let trial be made through strength and guile."
She turned, gesturing toward Ben.
