So she's back here. 

She's done everything in her power to avoid this arena. She's resisted, evaded, hidden. She's veiled herself and averted her eyes. She's tried to be a Phantom Thief and win her name back from the shadows. She's tried to play smart. She's tried to play cool. She's tried to play merciful. And she keeps getting dragged back here. She keeps winding up in this fucking place where the only thing she'll be measured by is the amount of blood she leaves on the sand when she's forced to fight people she'd like so much to save.

She doesn't want to fight Shamash, any more than she wanted to fight Asterion, any more than she wanted to fight Tirzah. To dance, perhaps - to engage like lovers, fast enough to dodge and weave in and out of embraces, able to trust exactly where the spear was going and how to make it one of the steps in her own dance. But feline eyes weigh upon her shoulders and her right hand curls around empty air. This is it, Canada Taliv, bearer of the Light of Ra. You've tried everything you could to avoid this moment and it's here regardless. How many times can you put it off?

She stands tall in the arena, waiting for Shamash. That empty air in her hand feels heavy. She doesn't trust herself to hold it. She doesn't trust herself not to drop it.

She's not smart enough. Fast enough. Cold enough. She had a soft, bleeding heart and had done nothing but bleed for it. What value were hearts in the arena? What value were hearts when they came between her and doing what needed to be done?

The fingers of her sword hand twitch.

Shiver.

Release.

Both hands come up to brace behind the shield instead.

She can't tell if it's resolve or cowardice. Both are warring still in her mind, but neither of them are triumphant, neither of them are making this decision.

Her feet shift in the sand.

She's making this decision because she can hear that music again. Distant, distant, but just barely starting to rise. The rhythm of battle, the dance steps that call to her. A song half-remembered, as though from a past life, gaining speed and pace.

She didn't know where the music was going to lead her, but she knew she wanted at least one more dance.