History speaks of the origin of the Clone Wars on Geonosis, and the first major clash between the Jedi and the Sith. The Colosseum draws inspiration from the fabled Petranaki arena, certainly, but was built with a more contemporary audience in mind. Located on the planet that serves as the new seat of the Brotherhood's central power, [REDACTED], the structure was rebuilt and renovated from the shell of an ancient foundation that had barely weathered away against the planets ever-changing climate.

High walls, tall enough for even the most savvy Jedi to find unscalable, line a large field of ancient sand and sediment the size of a holoball field. The spectators' chairs are divided into neatly organized sections with seats bunched close together to accommodate anywhere up to a few thousand people. At the center, an elongated platform “box” has been constructed with a central throne of stone with various seats of smaller scale lined beside it in both directions.

Two large holo-projection screens are set up on each side of the Colosseum, offering different angles of the fight via Holocam Drones.

While unassuming at first glance and looking very much like an archaic gladiatorial arena, the Colosseum features a medley of traps and surprises built into the floor and walls at random intervals. These obstacles include, but are hardly limited to: retractable nozzles that can shoot out gouts of flame; battery-coils that can spit out tendrils of electric current; receding floor panels with electric shock panels; deep pits with sharpened spikes and more. At some points, the ground can simply erupt upwards and create a concentrated, if not impromptu angular-platform that could be used as a springboard or temporary high ground. While seemingly random, these obstacles are handled and triggered by a manned-operator in a control room within.

Outside the fighting arena, the Colosseum features on-site, state of the art medical facilities that can bring nearly anyone back from the brink of the death and offer a full team of trainers, doctors, and rehabilitation units. There is also a neatly kept armory a basic training center with mechanical-dummies, and private sparring chambers.

As concentrated as the din of the crowd was within the tunnels, it was as a murmur compared to the virtual explosion of adulation that erupted when Shi and Selika stepped from them and into the light of the Colosseum. The Son of Sadow briefly shielded his eyes with one hand from the sudden brightness, the cheers and shouts of the assembled Brotherhood washing over him in waves of familiarity.

Shi regarded them all appreciatively, his gaze sweeping over the faceless mass of cheering spectators. With the preliminaries ended, they all understood as he did that it was time for the business of real combat to commence. No more avoidance, no more running. The remaining fighters now had to face one another to determine their supremacy.

It was a test that the Sadowan felt that he was built to pass; he had no need to prove himself to anyone present, nor did he have any tenuous titles to defend. The dirt which crumbled under his boots was as any other found on the dozens of worlds upon which he’d trod, and the blood of the di Plagia he was about to spill was as any other that had splashed his features when he’d plied his trade countless times before. The reason for being on this nameless planet was a mystery the other fighters struggled to unravel; Shi was here for the fight, plain and simple. When he thought on Marick’s earlier reminder of the rules, he allowed himself to relish the coming moments - defeating Selika without destroying her meant that he would have to beat her until she submitted, or he was called off of her. An exercise in control and a worthy challenge, indeed. He hoped against hope that she would not be an easy win, despite his pending savagery. Pravus wanted a show; the Brotherhood demanded blood. Shi would enjoy giving both.

Across the arena, Selika’s lithe form swayed and shimmered in the distance, her outline decidedly feminine but distorted by the heat rising from the Colosseum floor. Draped in her close-trimmed silken robes and bedecked in haughtiness, she seemed more suited for a summer ball than a contest of martial skill. Shi silently pondered how she’d come to find herself in the Tournament. “I think I’ll go ask her,” he said to himself. Giving his hands a final, loosening shake, he began to lope towards her. The crowd’s roar, already deafening, rose even higher as the arena came to life in response. The battery-coils sprang from the floor in indeterminate intervals and the nozzles dotting the walls spat great gouts of flame, but Shi was undeterred as he traversed the distance between he and his opponent, his breath coming easy and his focus sharpening with every step. More than once, he avoided the initial obstacles by rolling under a fountain of gelatinous fire and cartwheeling through the torrents of electricity from the coils when he drew close to them. The crowd vociferously gave its approval at every close call. The arena with its deadly pitfalls would prove to be more than a challenge for most, but for Shi, it was home.

’Almost too easy,’ he thought, his strides bringing him ever closer to her. ’She’s not even movi...’ The rest of the thought went unfinished as he noticed nearly too late that Selika’s form still remained out of focus. Then, realization coupled with a whispered ethereal warning struck him like a hammer: the di Plagia cast no shadow.

Skidding to a halt, he crouched slightly as the ground before him opened, the silt and sediment covering the hidden panel cascading downward in a fine mist. The spikes at the bottom of the pit mere meters in front of the Long reflected the overhead sun, the shined durasteel a strange sight amidst the ancient foundations of the Colosseum. Shi cursed himself for his nearly fatal mistake - he’d been so enthralled by the magnificence of the setting and focused on getting to Selika that he didn’t even bother to verify whether or not his quarry was even really there. Blinking rapidly to clear his vision, Shi looked at the specter he’d been chasing, and Selika’s form melted into nothingness, leaving nothing but the darkened maw of the tunnel before him.

Shi’s adrenaline suddenly spiked as he felt Selika’s presence within his skull. A surge of anger caused it to shrink and dwindle, as oily as her skin was smooth. The handle of the DX-13 filled his left hand as he spun away from the pit, furtively casting about for the Plagueian even as he pulled the blaster from his belt. The Force screamed a warning in his head, finally banishing Selika’s influence and he instinctively recoiled, but he did not escape unscathed. Cerulean forks of lightning licked at his gun arm insatiably, and the blaster fell from his useless grip, tumbling across the dirt and into the spiked pit.

The dark side obediently assuaged his pain, yet his teeth remained clenched and his jaw, set. He rolled with the assault away from the pit, his body kicking up a great cloud of dust. The agony in his limb fled his awareness as the Force continued to roil within him. Shi wondered if he’d foolishly fallen victim to a battery coil, but the silken lilt of Selika’s laughter, just barely audible above the roar of the crowd, soon removed any doubts as to what had attacked him.

“Well played, Roh,” Shi growled as he lurched back to his feet.

Selika’s eyes narrowed as she released the grip on the two illusions that she had woven. Her wavering form disappeared from the arena floor as the last subtle echoes of her laughter faded away. Much like a Force-aided ventriloquist, she had thrown her voice to the opposite side of the arena in an effort to keep her opponent off balance.

Shi Long wasn’t some overweight, middle-aged pilot long past his prime. He was a carefully honed weapon dedicated to martial combat, the kind this tournament seemed to be built for. Simply walking up to the man and presenting herself for battle would be far too close to suicide for Selika’s taste. Add to that the partially healed slash across her right thigh, and she had no desire to face him directly. Projecting the illusion of a far more serious injury had been all she could manage at the time against Andrelious in her previous match, but she still didn’t trust her leg fully. Shi was highly skilled at ravaging any obstacle standing before him. It was only when those obstacles became more elusive that he was vulnerable.

“Well done. You’ve already deprived him of one of his weapons.”

Selika sighed and rolled her eyes as she turned to face the arena attendee that stood beside her.

“Yes. Now, go away,” Selika instructed in an annoyed tone, crushing the man’s free will under her Force suggestion. “And forget you ever saw me.”

The man nodded as a blank stare took the place of his bemused expression, and he walked away from her. A few steps took him into the bright sunlight that was beating down on the ancient coliseum. Selika, however, remained in the shadows, standing under the arched vomitorium that allowed the throngs to reach their seats from the outer concourse of the stadium. It had been a simple matter for Selika, once Marick had left her prior to the match’s start, to influence her assigned attendant and secure her exit from the competitor’s staging areas. Here, surrounded by the seething Force presence of so many, both Force users and mundanes alike, Selika could remain hidden from her opponent and his more limited, focused senses.

Even now, Selika could feel Shi’s essence as he probed outward, looking for some sign of his opponent. She observed him as his attention darted around the arena, but he could find no sign of his quarry even as his search passed her by. She could feel his frustration growing, his carefully laid plans for victory amounting to nothing in the face of an opponent who refused to stand up and face him. Extending her hand towards him, Selika reached outward with her own Force powers, her brow furrowing as she locked her Force grip on one of the holocam drones that hovered above her opponent’s head. Then, as the exertion of her efforts caused a bead of sweat to form and roll down her face, she pushed the drone down towards her opponent.

The crowd took a moment to react as the droid, struggling against the sudden movement with its repulsors, unexpectedly slammed down into the Sadowan’s head. The impact staggered him, dropping him to his knees as his vision blurred. A confused murmur flowed around the arena, but it soon gave way to a bloodthirsty roar as the drone struck down once again. The onlookers had finally realized that the battle had been joined in earnest. The Force flowed forth from Shi Long to form a translucent barrier against further blows, but Selika slammed her improvised weapon down again and again. Suddenly, her foe was a blur of motion as he lashed out with his saber. The fiery orange blade slashed upward, skewering the drone and killing power to its repulsor. Selika, unable to support the weight of the drone without its gravity defying technology, lost her grip on it as it clattered to the dirt.

As Shi rose to his feet, his head turned and his gaze locked with Selika’s own. In continuing her assault, Selika had failed to anticipate that the bronze-skinned human would be able to sense her heightened presence in the Force.

“Sithspit,” Selika swore under her breath.

Shi’s free hand dropped to his waist, directly for the holster where his slugthrower rested. His hand, however, came up empty. Eyebrows raising in alarm, his eyes darted downward in search of his weapon. It was on the ground several meters from him, likely jarred loose at some point during Selika’s telekinetic assault. It had come to rest, unfortunately for Shi, directly atop one of the arena’s flame nozzles. Now it was the Sadowan’s turn to swear.

Before Shi could move to retrieve his weapon, the nozzle erupted and a gout of flame enveloped the weapon like the breath of a dragon. The extreme temperature of the flame was enough to push the propellant in the slugs past their point of ignition. Expecting a significant explosion, Shi threw his arm in front of his face, but it never came. Instead there was only a series of sharp cracks followed by the final projectile in the barrel igniting, throwing the weapon backwards as the slug sprang from the barrel to impact the far wall of the arena. The weapon, though mostly intact, showed signs that its mechanism had been damaged by the propellant exploding outside the chamber. Selika smiled as she saw Shi turn away from his now-useless slug pistol.

Without his weapons I have him, Selika thought to herself, knowing that Shi was now confined to the arena floor with little ability to reach her.

Before Selika could gloat over her tactical advantages, Shi was on the move. Almost faster than the eye could track, he closed the distance between himself and the arena wall. Knowing that the wall’s height would defeat even the great Shi Long, Selika was unconcerned. However, before he reached the unscalable facade, Shi vaulted into the air with a Force-aided leap. His trajectory took him not to the wall, but towards one of the hovering holocam drones. Using it as a stepping stone, Shi quickly leapt again, alighting atop the wall. The crowd, which now unexpectedly found itself part of the field of battle as opposed to observing it, erupted with screams and shouts as those closest to the Sadowan tried to push their bodies away from his glowing blade. The panic only intensified as Selika moved out from the covered hallway and ignited her own weapon with a snap-hiss that could still be heard above the throng.

Shi moved quickly to rush his opponent, his blade held aloft for an overhand strike. Selika reached out with the Force, but not towards her opponent’s durasteel trap of a mind. Instead she targeted a tall Devaronian, one of the many in the crowd panicked by the aura of fear that the Long exuded.

“Stop!” she shouted.

The tall spectator jerked to a halt immediately, his body rigid and unmoving, directly in the path of her opponent’s downward-slashing blade. The blow took the alien right between the shoulder and neck, cleaving him diagonally from clavicle to hip. Using the bisected man as a screen, Selika spun around him and lashed out towards Shi with her own blade. The more proficient Long handled her comparatively clumsy strike easily and moved back on the offensive, forcing Selika to shift back to a dedicated defense. His saber blade flowed like water, its easy movements belying the power behind them. It was all she could do to deflect his blows, never mind thinking about taking offensive action.

The area around them had finally emptied, with the crowd in other sections still mad for blood. The open space allowed Shi to maneuver their clash of blades much like a skilled dancer leading his partner, and Selika suddenly felt the knee-high wall around the edge of the arena against her legs. On cue, Shi Long followed up one of his lightsaber strikes with a vicious kick towards Selika’s midsection. With her blade out of position, the Sadowan’s foot struck her low in the chest, driving the wind from her lungs with a loud whuff. The force of the kick also drove her backwards, toppling her over the railing to deposit her violently onto the dirt below.

---

A third of the way around the arena, on the raised dais, the Grand Master watched as his one of his tribune writhed in pain from her fall, trying to pull herself to her feet. Beside him, standing nervously, was Marick Arconae.

“You’re going to have to do something to ensure that none of the other competitors make it out of your arena, Combat Master,” Pravus intoned coldly.

“Yes, my lord,” Marick replied curtly.

“And, he got her into the arena,” Pravus continued, a grin tugging every so slightly at the side of his mouth. “You owe me fifty credits.”

“Yes, my lord,” Marick responded again, this time noticeably relieved that Pravus seemed amused.

All around the arena, similar credit-exchanging interactions were being held. From the quiet, gentlemen’s bets to the more raucous, fist-fight inducing ones, all represented the crowd fully buying into the match, their collective voices and emotion reaching a fever pitch as they witnessed the action unfolding before them. Strangely, there was one silent dissenter, hidden amongst the shouts for blood.

The attendant to Selika Roh di Plagia. Standing near the butchered Devaronian, he stood confused, watching as Shi extinguished his blade and stepped down after her, alighting upon a holocam droid to arrest his fall. The Sadowan allowed the machine’s overworked levitation servos slow them as they approached the ground, and the crowd cheered as Shi folded himself over and in front of the drone, grasping it at the bottom, his legs dangling while floating meters from the arena floor. As the Long sped down and towards where Selika had struggled to her feet, the attendant couldn’t shake the feeling that someone had muddled with his memories, the sensation lingering like slowly chewing a greasy, underdone nerfsteak. The last thing he remembered was being ushered to Selika’s side by Marick...and then, he was there, in the cleared section of the stands.

He watched as Shi’s feet touched the sandy ground. The Dragon of Stone then hurled the droid with his all of his considerable might towards his opponent, the machine disintegrating in a mess of circuits and flame as it struck. The attendant saw Selika jerkily avoid Shi’s makeshift missile, her arm protectively wrapped around her side, and realized that it was her who had manipulated him. Shi might have been considered a mindless brute by some, but at least he was direct, and honorable in his own way. Not like the witch who’d saw him as a tool to be used and discarded, doing everything she could to avoid the conflict.

The attendant was one of a rising number of the mundanes who served the Brotherhood who did not take kindly to being taken advantage of by their overlords. ’No longer,’ he decided. Seeing Selika near the still open spiked pit, he saw as she did Shi’s DX-13 gleaming at the bottom. Bringing his wrist-comm up to his mouth, he spoke to the arena’s operator.

“Close pit twenty-three dash aleph,” he intoned, satisfied by his small measure of revenge.

---

It was all Selika could do to avoid the drone that Shi had hurled at her both physically and telekinetically, and she dove painfully to the ground near the trap that nearly claimed Shi earlier. The debris from the explosion rained all about her, and she was singed in the places where her olive skin was uncovered. The pain was inconsequential, however, next to the pain in her leg, the feeling of ground glass within her chest whenever she inhaled the dust-choked air...and the hope of victory represented by Shi’s blaster at the bottom of the pit. Her mind grasped at the weapon, and it jostled briefly before rising up towards her. She frantically reached out towards it, her anticipation rising as it drew closer.

It was then that the pit’s hatch slid closed with a whisper, and the muffled sound of the blaster striking it and clattering back to the pit’s bottom sent a chill up her spine. Infuriated, she turned and looked towards the stands, spying the attendant staring down at her. Before she could curse his betrayal, the Force nudged her awareness and she rolled to the side, narrowly avoiding Shi’s booted foot slamming down into the space she previously occupied. Selika rose, her face a rictus of growing discomfort as she attempted to latch onto the quicksilver of Shi’s mind. In response, the Long ignited Nenshogeru once more, and threw a feint at her. Favoring her right leg, she staggered away, casting her senses about for her own lightsaber, discarded in the fall from the arena wall.

Shi held her ornate weapon in his opposing hand, and a hush momentarily fell over the Brethren as he appraised the workmanship. He hefted it and nodded appreciatively, then looked at Selika. He tossed it contemptuously towards the ground at her feet, and the di Plagia snatched it up, the amethyst blade pouring forth once more.

The crowd erupted, eager for more entertainment. Shi beamed in response, and set upon her. Her aegis of defense was hastily erected, but enough to ward off the Dragon’s probing strikes. Still, he moved ever forward, and Selika was forced to retreat. Their blades sang in sibilant discordance time and again, marking time to the seemingly endless parry and riposte of their fight. Their path took them near the fire-trap that destroyed the slugthrower; Shi rushed Selika, and the di Plagia’s backwards flight took her out of ‘saber-range, but right into a sputtering font of liquid flame. Selika wisely allowed her momentum to carry her to the ground, and the gout flowed harmlessly over her. The crowd shouted their appreciation for her acrobatics as she continued her backwards roll. She came unsteadily to her feet, her blade intercepting Shi’s bisecting swipe, but not the hunk of metal that was Shi’s ruined slugthrower, telekinetically launched from the sandy ground. It slammed into her shoulder and caromed upwards, nearly peeling her scalp from her skull; the dark side’s boon to her awareness and reflexes allowed the di Plagia to absorb the glancing blow.

The Son of Sadow pressed on, driving them towards a battery-coil; Selika desperately threw strikes at Shi, attempting to clear a path away from the hazard, but Shi was too fast. His blade corralled her back towards the torrent of electricity that flared from the top of the construct.

Azure fingers of energy splayed along the translucent barrier Selika erected, bringing to mind a talon clutching a fragile egg. She did her best to ignore her wounds as she threw herself backwards, out of the lightning’s path. She tumbled unceremoniously in the dirt then rose, and still Shi kept coming. Instinctively, she tried to dart to her right, lashing out with her blade as she did so, desperately scrambling for space to breathe. Unfortunately, she was rewarded not with escape, but with pain as a lance of agony shot through her injured thigh. She cried out and stumbled just as Shi closed the distance between them, brutally hammering her weapon from her grip. The azure blade slurped back into its serpentine housing just as Shi’s off hand shot forward, closing violently on her slender throat.

Reflexively, Selika’s hands clutched at Shi’s corded forearm, the nails digging into his bronze flesh; if the Stone Dragon felt any pain, he didn’t show it as he set his jaw and hoisted her bodily aloft. Selika’s eyes darted about as her vision began to fade, but a small part of her mind realized her grand mistake. In weaving her illusions, in enthralling part of the crowd and even in mind-tricking her attendant, she’d stretched herself too thin and for too long, depleting her reserves. She’d thought to use the arena to avoid Shi, but the Long instead used the arena as a weapon, as deadly as his lightsaber.

Selika thought that his earlier probe of the surroundings was meant to find her; instead, he was taking note of the arena’s traps and timing, so that he could use them to his advantage. Her boot-tips tracing desperate arcs in the sand as she struggled against Shi’s grasp testified to his success.

Shi Long extinguished his saber but kept it in his strong grip. His smile widened in sadistic glee as he drew his weighted fist back, then pistoned it forward.

CRACK!

The wet sound of flesh on flesh sent the crowd into a frenzy as Shi blacked Selika’s eye, the flesh around the orbit beginning to swell even as he drew his fist back once more. “Yield.” The throaty baritone snaked its way into Selika’s awareness, her grip on consciousness fleeting as her vision danced with stars. She shook her head in defiance.

SMACK!

Selika’s lips split across her whitened teeth, staining them pink even as dust flew from her immaculately coiffed hair. “Roh. Yield.” Shi commanded once more, admirably wondering if the woman would let her pride go before her looks were completely decimated.

Mercifully, a trap that Shi hadn’t accounted for saved her from the choice. The ground beneath them shot skyward, and the unbalanced Sadowan was forced to release Selika from his clutches. She tumbled weakly down one side of the rising plinth, and he, down the other. Both fighters got to their feet, Selika the slower of the two as she coughed violently, rubbing her bruised throat as she fought for air. To her rising horror, the growl of Nenshogeru reached her ears as Shi strode confidently from around the stone column, locking her within his hunter’s gaze while the ragged tip of his lightsaber glassed the sands as he dragged it along the ground.

Shi Long could see the fear that painted Selika Roh’s face, could feel it radiating from her through his Force sense. The woman stood before him without her saber, completely drained from their battle. She was obviously wounded, favoring her right leg as she moved. The blood trailing from her lip and the swelling around her eye were testaments to his prowess in combat. And yet, she still stood. He had left her in a position where there was no hope, no recourse, and yet she still stood.

“Yield,” he instructed, holding his blade just below her upturned chin.

Selika merely glared at him. If she had been someone like Shi himself, he might have seen her refusal to capitulate as something to respect. Selika, being the haughty woman she was, was not cut from the same cloth.

In this case, the Sadowan reflected, it is mere stupidity.

“One last chance,” he spat. “Stand down.”

Again, only silence greeted him. Shi sighed inwardly. He had looked forward to proving himself once more on the field of battle, but he had come here to fight. There was combat, and then there was what this had become. Seika’s ham-fisted attacks had posed little threat. Here she was, beaten and broken, whilst she had hardly inflicted anything in return. This wasn’t a true test of his skills; it hardly even qualified as sport.

Wanting nothing more than for this farce to be over, Shi balled his fist and then swung. The blow caught Selika across the temple, dropping her face-first into the dirt like a sack of milkened tubers. Keenly aware of the rules, Shi dropped to a knee beside her to make sure his blow had driven no more than consciousness from her. His fingers found a pulse at her neck as her back showed the motions of breathing, so Shi nodded and rose to his feet.

A murmur rose from the crowd as he did so, growing in volume as he turned to face Darth Pravus upon the dais. The Grand Master sported an odd expression on his face, however, instead of the expected satisfaction. Shifting his gaze, the Son of Sadow saw much the same look painted across the features of Marick Arconae beside him.

Confusion, Shi finally realized.

Before he could take any action spurred on by his sudden insight, the snap-hiss of a lightsaber ignition crackled behind him, and the amethyst blade of a lightsaber sprouted from the right side of his chest like a glowing fountain. Just as the screaming pain of the weapon having been driven through his torso reached his brain, the blade disappeared as the weapon was just as quickly deactivated.

“Can’t have it doing any more damage than I want it to,” warbled Selika’s voice from behind him.

Suddenly struggling to find his breath as one of his lungs collapsed, Shi saw his opponent step into his field of vision as she walked in front of him. Her face was slightly different than he expected, not quite in line with his recollection of a moment ago. Her lip was not dripping with the blood that had run down her chin. The flesh around her eye, while bruised, was not swollen nearly enough to obscure her vision. Most alarmingly, however, was the lack of any sign at all of his blow to her head mere seconds ago. All of this rushed quickly through Shi’s mind as he realized that he had been played.

“You’re right, of course,” Selika said with a smirk, as if in response to his unvoiced thought.

His mind spinning itself into a near panic, Shi Long grasped for the tendrils of the Force that would allow him to bring his not inconsiderable skill in the healing arts to bare. Those tendrils, however, seemed just out of his grasp. It was as if his fingertips could just brush them before they were pulled out of his reach.

“Come now. I can’t have you trying to put yourself back together,” Selika scolded him. “Not after I let you take your shots to get you into this position.”

The last was delivered with just a hint of simmering anger that was boiling just below the woman’s surface. Shi saw what had happened, the very subtle illusions she had woven for him. Now that he was aware of it, he could see that his punches were far less vicious than he had experienced at the time. And, most tellingly, he remembered the blow to her head that had put her down. But he also remembered that punch missing her head entirely. The former’s illusory nature was so obvious to him, but only after she had allowed the illusion to slip.

As the energy seeped out of his body, the Long dropped once more to his knees, but this time he was unable to rise. He could feel blood rising in his throat, the sensation drawing forth a cough that deposited a gush of it down the front of his tunic.

“How?” Shi was finally able to ask.

“Even for one as closed-minded as you, there is always a way in,” Selika explained. “An illusion is always most effective when you’re showing someone what they want to see, what they expect to see.”

Shi coughed again and began to waver, his body swaying back and forth as he attempted to stay upright. Selika knelt beside him, her hand moving behind his shoulders to lower him to the ground.

“I knew I wasn’t going to fight you and win, Dragon of Stone,” she quietly intoned. “I realized that the moment that you dropped me to the arena floor. The only way I could possibly get you to lower your guard was to make you think that you’d won. I painted the picture you were certain you were going to see. Crawling madly for a blaster, of all things, allowing you to get within arm’s length without lighting you up like the Coruscant skyline. A bit of manipulation and mental trickery was all it took.”

“How did you know that I wouldn’t…” Shi’s voice trailed off as he labored for breath.

“I didn’t,” Selika observed. “You could have sliced off something important, or been overcome by your bloodlust. A bit of a gamble, but I trusted that you still wanted your victory.”

A level of intensity that until now had been unseen now radiated from Selika’s eyes.

“Now, Shi Long, yield,” she commanded. “Or I will allow the life to bleed from your body right here.”

“You will lose,” was Shi’s response.

“What makes you think that victory,” Selika said, moving down to whisper in his ear, “would be any more enjoyable than watching you die?”

As the woman’s mouth moved away from his ear, the warmth of her breath went with it. The coldness that remained seemed incongruous to the sun beating down from overhead. He could feel it - the body he inhabited was slipping away. The woman in front of him was, truth be told, capricious enough to let him die just for spite. He knew that. In doing so, she would earn the wrath of the other Dragons, but that would be cold comfort to a dead man. Being wise enough not to allow his pride to rule his actions, Shi came to grips with the only option that remained.

“I yield,” he rasped.

Selika rose from his side, releasing the hold that had blocked off the Force’s healing energies from him. He greedily grabbed them for all they were worth, allowing the restorative power to flow through him in order to preserve his life until the medics could arrive. Then, much as Shi had mere moments ago, Selika turned to face the Grand Master.

“Enough?” she asked.

---

The audience was stunned by the sudden turn of events, and now all eyes were on the Grand Master. Standing, the leader of the Brotherhood spoke.

“Indeed it is,” he replied.

“Good. Now, I want that one,” Selika said, pointing a finger at her attendant in the gallery. “Hold him for me. His life is forfeit.”

“On what grounds?” Marick demanded.

“A mundane stood against one of us,” Darth Pravus replied, then turned to Selika. “I will have him placed in custody, to do as you will with him.”

“Why doesn’t she just kill him now?” Marick asked, as Pravus gestured to several guards and silently directed them to apprehend the offending attendant.

“Because,” Pravus explained with a smile, “at this moment, I don’t believe she is actually capable of doing so.”

Marick’s eyes returned to the now deactivated arena floor. Selika was down on her hands and knees beside her opponent, her arms struggling with the effort of supporting her weight. In the end, gravity won the battle. Her limbs collapsed and she dropped to the dirt, unconscious.

“Even the Force can only hold injury and exertion at bay for so long,” Pravus mused. “Now, send in your medics.”