AICHMOPHOBIA – FEAR OF SHARP OBJECTS

She was like a ribbon, Eris Lahey decided.

If she were to let loose a ribbon in the wind, its twists and turns would match Nyx completely. From where she sat, above the arena, Eris decided that Nyx was the ribbon and the Reapers she faced were rocks—heavy, slow, and sure to sink.

The boy standing before her, dripping with sweat, was sluggish and heavy footed. The grip on his scythe wavered, arms shaking as he clumsily swung the weighty weapon. Nyx, on the other hand, danced on her toes—jumping and swiping and spinning on the spot. The scythe Nyx held was ugly, small, and jagged, all copper and rusted barbed wire; all the odds were against her, but Nyx always came out on top.

Always.

The Reaper boy was soon on his back with a copper blade to his throat. He shoved Nyx aside as a whistle sounded, and went back to sit on the sidelines. The whistle blew again and another challenger was pushed into the arena with Nyx. This one was tall, gangly, all arms and legs.

"Johnson," the coach said gruffly. The boy nodded and removed his thick glasses and shoes. "Shirt, Johnson," the coach added, and the boy rolled his eyes and lifted his gray shirt over his head.

"Here." One of the Reapers passed Johnson his scythe: emerald green with sparkling, raw crystals at the staff's tip. Eris thought it looked heavy in his arms. Nevertheless, he heaved it up before him, mirroring Nyx's stance.

"Good luck, Stick," one of the Reapers yelled from the sidelines. "Her left side is weakest."

Eris smirked in the darkness above. Nyx doesn't have a weak side.

"Commence," said the coach.

Stick lunged forward, driving the blade of his scythe toward Nyx's side. She spun away and came back around to slash at him, slapping the flat of her blade against his back. He was jolted forward, an angry red mark appearing across the small of his back. A groan echoed through the watching crowd.

Stick spun the staff in his hands, creating a windmill effect, trying to distract Nyx. It didn't work. She cut in, stopping it with the blunt end of her staff while swinging the bladed end at his other side. She nicked his hip, and he jumped away.

Stick hesitated, then thrust his blade forward once more. But Nyx came back quicker, smashing his scythe away. Stick reeled to the right and swung back around unnaturally fast. He brought his staff down onto Nyx's and was suddenly on top of her.

The entire arena went silent as Stick stood over her, using his weight to push down on the two scythes. Nyx struggled, the weight of it making her arms shake.

"Come on," Eris whispered.

The boys in the seats below whistled and cheered.

"Come on, Nyx," Eris muttered to herself.

Stick bit his lip, arms shaking. Eris watched the way her cousin's arms creased in certain places, muscles bulging against the added weight.

Suddenly, the pressure too much, Stick's arms dropped, and Nyx rolled free. He fell as she got to her feet again, lifting one leg before planting her foot into his back and sending him slamming into the brick.

Everyone gasped. Nyx dropped her scythe, panting, and wiped the sweat from her face. Other Reapers leaped over the barrier into the arena and knelt down around Stick, lifting his head.

"Shit, man, you okay?"

Stick nodded, wincing.

"All righty, then," the coach announced. He looked at Nyx, whose hands were on her hips. "Looks like Lahey's won another day."

She smiled at the coach. No one cheered for her, though. That's what it was always like.

Eris, determined that Nyx would always have someone there who cheered for her, snuck into the arena each afternoon to secretly watch her cousin. Always backing her. She would always be there, whether Nyx knew it or not. She arrived before everyone else and would be the last to leave. No one was aware of her presence.

"Good job today, Lahey." The coach smiled and shook his head.

Nyx wiped her face with a towel. "Thank you, sir."

The Reapers had already filed out of the arena, and Nyx and the professor followed closely behind. Once the lights were turned off, Eris gathered her things and made for the exit. Stepping outside, her heart all but skipped a beat at a billow of wings and a loud squawk—a raven taking off from one of the windowsills that looked in on the arena.

Eris narrowed her eyes at the sky as the raven flew out of sight.