A/N: This is a rewrite of the original to make it follow the new course to be taken by these characters. 

Naliana Grede marched down the hallway until she came across the targeted door. Her grip on the rolled piece of parchment tightened. Only when it crackled in her grasp did she loosen her hold, afraid of damaging the script. Its importance was too significant for anxiety-laced excitement to mar so recklessly.

She rapped against the door and waited for her brother's voice, but it didn't come. Muttering under her breath, she barged in to be welcomed by an empty room. The sheets on the bed were still rumpled, despite it being an hour past sundown. The lamps burned low, throwing light onto a bottle of rum. There was a piece of paper underneath it.

Crossing the room, she slipped the note from underneath the bottle and read:

Went for a spar. Back in an hour or two.
—Your amazing brother.

The paper shook in her hand as she fought the urge to rip it to shreds and kick the bed to splinters. How was it that the time she wanted his presence is when he decided not to show up? For the love of—

Nalia took a deep breath and delicately placed it back where she found it. Eyeing the bottle longingly, she wondered if she should take a sip—or a mug. Eventually, logic won and she left it on the table to look for her brother.

Her steps resounded in the house as she hurried down the stairs, where paintings lined the walls. She grabbed her dark brown coat from the hanger by the door. Hearing the familiar crackle of paper, she looked down at the rolled parchment stamped in blood-red, with the letters FH printed onto a waxy fire. Nalia frowned. She couldn't leave this here, but it was risky going out with it.

Biting her lips, she slipped it into one of the inner pockets of her coat. With a satisfied smile, she locked the house and pocketed the keys. Outside, the air was chilly, with the crisp smell of artrus wind filling her nose. Tugging the coat closer to her body, she half-jogged to the most popular brawling pits in the area.

The street lamps did nothing to keep the darkness at bay. Throughout her sprint, she saw all types of people, ranging from prostitutes to thieves. She suppressed a shudder and thanked the Spirits that Ron had built a mansion in the open field, far from town.

She knew she was getting close to her destination when the cheers and yells increased in volume. Following a left fork in the road, she passed a sign marked, "The Wild Boar" and finally glimpsed the tavern.

In a second, she was inside—and was instantly hit with the hot stink of sweaty bodies. Nalia wrinkled her nose at the crowd of people filling the spacious building. She could have guessed at least a hundred people had paid to watch the matches of the night. The tavern was filled to the brim, nearly pouring people through the large windows.

To her left was a burly man shifting through pouches of silver. His eyes were alight, with a greedy grin on his face. It must have been a good night for him because he didn't bother asking her to pay—which she wouldn't have. Vowing revenge on her brother, she dived into the sea of bodies.

Even before she had fully plunged into the crowd, Nalia was met with blows from jerking elbows and cheering fists. She bounced from body to body like a kickball. The mad screams and jeers made her want to cover her ears, but her hands were busy pushing her way to the front.

Her back was cold with sweat and she cursed the damned coat for the uncomfortable warmth. She would have ripped it off if it weren't for the letter. The air around her was thick and heavy, making her wonder how the people inside could actually breathe. Perhaps their elation pushed the lack of oxygen from their minds.

Honestly, she couldn't judge them, for the fighters on the raised mound of dirt that served as a fighting ground roused everyone's absolute excitement.

Nalia finally found herself at the front, thanks to her small build and pointy elbows. There, she could see the competitors clearly.

On the circular mound of dirt lay Ronalvo. His golden hair covered his eyes as he lay on his back, blood trickling from his nose. She saw his bare chest rise and fall with arms spread apart like an angel. He coughed and tiny hints of crimson splattered around his mouth. She would have been worried had she not seen the bloody grin on his face.

He rolled onto his stomach, pushing himself up to his feet. He winced, his hand covering his side. Taking a few wheezy breaths, he cracked his neck and shook himself out like a dog drying itself of water.

He faced his opponent with a toothy smile. The man, Thunder, she heard people yell, growled at him in warning. "Oh, come on Thunder!" He raised his arms from his sides. "Is that all you got for me?"

Thunder swung his arm upward, hitting Ron squarely in his gut. The force made him stumble as he clutched his stomach, but the smile was still plastered on his face. He coughed. "Wow," he rasped. "You really put everything into that, didn't you?"

A fist flew into Ron's cheek, the impact sending him to the ground. He landed an inch to the edge of the podium, right in front of Nalia. Dust engulfed anyone who was near him. She sneezed.

"Ron," she hissed. "We need to go."

He jerked in surprise when he saw her. "Oh, hey Nalia." He grinned. "What brought you here?"

"Your stupid ass." Before he could comment, she continued. "Listen, there's something urgent we need to talk about." Some people gave her dirty looks for distracting Ron from the fight but she couldn't care less. Their cheers grew louder. Ron propped himself on his elbow and waved. "I'm kind of—"

Ron was interrupted by the giant man, who pulled his legs away from the edge. With a roar, he yanked Ron off the mound, into the air and slammed him back to the ground. Nalia winced. She could have sworn she heard bones break.

She glared at the wrestler. He was clearly trying to kill Ron, which she couldn't blame him for. The pain in the ass always got on someone's nerves, and more often than not it was on hers. But at the moment, she had to get him to stop.

"Ron!" she shouted but her cries were drowned out by the cries and jeers. "Ronalvo!"

He stirred from the impact, slowly pushing himself into a sitting position while clutching his head. The mad glint in his eyes told her he wasn't done yet.

And since shouting wouldn't work, she hoped he would hear her thoughts. "It's about Zenara!" she screamed in her own head.

His head shot up so fast she nearly jumped. The question in his blue eyes was evident. Nalia nodded.

Clenching his jaw, he got to his feet smoothly. He spat out blood with a clump that looked like a tooth. He shrugged with a maniacal grin. "I guess it's my turn now." Elated cries exploded all around the circular podium. Thunder ground his teeth and charged with an enraged howl.

Ronalvo waited until the last second before shifting out of the way. Everything went so fast after that. He grabbed Thunder's outstretched hand, twisted it with a snap and propelled the man around before flinging him into the air. Everyone's eyes followed the flying body as it collided into the wall with a crack.

Thunder slunk to the ground, cracks forming like cobwebs where he hit the wall. There was a stunned silence before everyone erupted in roars of excitement and disbelief. Ron's name was shouted in victory and he raised a fist, which only made the crowd grow wilder.

He jumped off the podium to stand in front of her. "Want a hug from the victor?"

She stopped his advance with a hand to his chest. "Not until you take a bath."

He grinned. "This is victory musk, dearest sister."

"That is disgusting." She pulled him into the crowd, where it was thickest. He started to object when she said, "Take us home."

Ron seemed to remember what he had heard in her mind. He took her hand and instantly they vanished, not caring if anyone saw them. They would be too drunk to make much of it anyway.

Nalia's stomach churned as her feet hit the mansion's floor.

"I thought you hated teleporting," Ron said, standing beside her. He strode to the living room, slumping on the couch.

She swallowed and straightened. "I do," she replied, walking to him, "But this was important."

"So you weren't baiting me back because you missed me," he stated thoughtfully. "Hurts, but good to know." Nalia shook her head and flashed the rolled letter from her coat. Ron's eyes followed it as she said, "Take a look."

Eyeing her warily, he opened the already-unsealed parchment and read. His eyes darted from right to left, quickly deciphering the encrypted writing of Ptal. As it was a secret language only those of the Commune could decode, no one else could read the seemingly odd jumble of numbers and queer symbols. However, the way Ron read it with ease ticked her off; mostly because it had taken nearly half an hour to decipher. Ron had always been the star child, the prodigy, good at everything he breathed.

It was one of the things that she hated and loved about her elder brother.

When he was done, he met her pale blue gaze. "When did this come?"

"Almost two hours ago," she informed. "It came by ren-hawk."

He nodded and got to his feet, the letter forgotten in his hand. Nalia brushed away a stray strand of dirty blond hair from her face and watched him.

His lips pinched tight as he read it once more. "I can't believe it," he finally whispered.

"Well believe it, brother, and thank the Spirits for the whole commotion at Allyn's Tower." Her hands rested behind her head. "Because of it, we have our opening."

"But who stole the Xiordite?"

Nalia shrugged. "No one knows. Apparently, the thief came like a shadow, and struck with power akin to Arcanic magic, but not exactly."

"What does that even mean?"

"I don't know," she admitted. She stared out the nearby window, up at the stars. "These are strange times."

"Yes, they are." His face was clouded with thought. "So it seems there's another game playing in the shadows. If so, who are the contenders?"

"None of our business. We have our own game to play."

He shook himself. "Yes, of course." A smile lit up his face. "Spirits. It's been six years."

She mirrored his smile. "A long time, isn't it?"

"The wait was tough, but it was worth it." His eyes grew distant, drifting back to their earlier years.

"Hey." She placed her hand on his shoulder. "Pull yourself together. Zenara wouldn't want to see you drifting off like that."

He laughed. "She would slap my face off."

Nalia sobered up, thinking about the task at hand. "This won't be easy. The spells put up around the perimeter will be a bitch to work around."

"I can get us there." A malicious glint lit up his electric eyes, not unlike his expression back at the brawling pit. Nalia suppressed a shudder.

It wasn't that she didn't like her brother. Quite the contrary, in fact. She loved her brother deeply. But only a fool wouldn't hold even a spark of fear of him. Especially she, who had witnessed his power.

Nalia, however, stuck with him. So did her closest companion. A friendship that bonded all three. But circumstances had stolen the third away.

Now the time had come.

They were going to get her back.

I decided to rewrite this chapter because I felt the previous one portrayed Ron a bit different from how he's coming to life the more I write. Besides, this is much better; with more action thrown into the scene and not... ahem, what it was before.

Thanks for reading. If you liked this chapter, please don't forget to vote. Comments are deeply appreciated :)