Iggy still couldn't believe it.

The emperor's own bride-to-be had been plotting his downfall. How long had she been working with Jaxon? Was this the plan all along or had she been corrupted somehow after leaving her home? The Majaan's weren't traditionally linked with either side of the steadily growing conflict throughout the galaxy. But with the emperor having created an alliance with the Majaan people, perhaps Noia was acting on her own.

How did she even meet Jaxon? Iggy assumed the Axarian Alliance approached her first, but he couldn't be too sure. The priestess wasn't exactly an open book. Whenever he thought he had her figured out, something else added another twist to her tale.

Her motivations eluded him. He also didn't understand how the emperor couldn't tell his own fiancé was conspiring against him. Perhaps Voltai wasn't as clever as he let on. Or perhaps Noia's acting chops were that good.

The more Iggy dwelled on the ordeal, the more he commended the Alliance's initiative. They knew they matched up horribly against the empire. From what Tenn told him, every other rebel group fell when they tried going against the Elysians. But Jaxon and the Axarian Alliance seemed to be learning from their predecessors. They understood a different approach must be taken if they wanted to usurp the Elysians.

Empires were rarely conquered by outside forces—and if they were, they almost always returned stronger than ever. A name change, a new leadership group, a more powerful military, et cetera. History proved there was only one way to take one down for good.

The key was to tear it down from the inside.

Having Noia Adani be their infiltrator was a good first step.

But the Majaan priestess wasn't the empress of the galaxy. Her marriage to the emperor wasn't official yet. She held no true power over the empire until they tied the knot. Still, for the Axarian Alliance to sway the Majaan priestess enough to join their side was an impressive feat.

Iggy just wished Jaxon would've told him about it.

But, as so many people loved to remind him, he wasn't a rebel. No one viewed him as such. Not his father or Tenn. Not Jaxon or Noia. Even Commander Au Victorus didn't think him worthy enough to be one of the insurgents setting the galaxy on fire.

The version of him he left behind on Novr would've agreed. But that boy died the day he stepped on The Chyron. He'd been forced to change. He wouldn't have made it through the first game if he hadn't. His instincts saved him Vonn during the Skimmer race. His sheer determination and will saw him advance through the capture the flag challenge. The old him wouldn't have been able to do any of that.

He was different now. The arena changed him.

Tenn told him it would eat him alive if he hadn't adapted. At least the old man had been honest about one thing.

He grabbed a fistful of the sheet covering his cot as he stared into the darkness filling the sleeping chamber. The low, husky sounds of snores reverberated in the air around him. He made it to the halfway point in the games and people still didn't respect him. And he meant actual respect. Not the intrigue he got from the fans of the gladiator games or the recognition he got from the Noblus families. They didn't see him as a life. To them, he was just a prop. A character in a show they tuned into whenever they got bored with their own uneventful lives.

People still saw him as that little boy from Novr; he was something to have pity for.

Sometimes he agreed with them. Memories of the night he and his family fled Yensari flooded his psyche like freezing water from a dam. He drowned under the weight of the memory; he could feel it dragging him deeper into the depths of his mind, stealing his oxygen and pressing against his sternum. Tears stung his eyes.

That boy wasn't him anymore. He'd grown up a lot since then.

Before these games, he was just a poor salt miner that no one gave a second thought. He was a nobody. He didn't matter to the Elysians or the watchers of the games or anyone else. He didn't matter.

As he laid there in the pitch black, he made a vow to himself. After this next challenge, he'd make sure he mattered. Everyone in the galaxy would know his name. He didn't know how it would happen, but he knew it would.

The galaxy would know Iggorii Amrada.

He might not have mattered to anyone now, but by the end of the day, he would.

He would.

#

That morning, the case issued to him by the Au Castus house finally opened.

The sharp sounds of more than a dozen mechanical locks whirring and disengaging simultaneously yanked him out of his sleep. Scrambling off his cot, he pulled the container out from underneath the metal bedframe he hid it under and brought it out into the open. The bright lines running along the edges gleamed brightly as the box prepared to open.

As he peered around the room, he noticed he wasn't the only one with a case. In fact, every remaining tribute had been awarded a sponsorship for making it this far in the tournament. They must've been brought in while everyone slept.

Iggy frowned at his container. When the emperor's correspondent handed him the thing after his short vacation to the palace, he thought he was special. Clearly, that wasn't the case.

Everyone's box bore an insignia matching with one of the twelve Noblus houses. Krav had been sponsored by the Au Tittanus family while Jaromik netted a sponsorship from the Au Falco clan. From what Iggy could see, no one else's sported the Au Castus logo. He was unique in that respect.

Maybe everyone's gift is different.

As the boxes revealed their contents, he stole a glance at Tenn. The old regarded the silver container near the foot of his cot with such disdain Iggy feared it'd spontaneously catch on fire. Tenn muttered something to himself before lifting it from the ground. He begrudgingly set it onto his cot as it opened.

Iggy did the same.

His hands jumped inside just as the top opened, his eager fingers brushing against the black velvet coating the inside of the container. Anxiety spread through him as he grabbed hold of something. Without wasting a second, he retrieved it from the depths of the box. A frown pulled down the corners of his lips as he examined what he held in his hands.

"A uniform?" Krav said across the room said as they held up a set of dark purple garments. "That's it?"

"I was expecting...more," another tribute said as they turned over the clothes in their hand.

Everyone seemed to have received similar uniforms, each piece designed to fit each specific person. They all were different colors and corresponded with the owner of the sponsor. Tenn's were dark blue with silver trim—the colors of Au Victorus, the controllers of the empire's expansive navy.

Iggy's were a solid black with gold trim. The shoulders and chest of the shirt were fitted with lightweight armor plates. The Au Castus symbol had been pressed into the middle of the back. A faint light pulsed from the mesh-like material. He snorted at the sight.

This was the gift? A uniform?

It all was a bit anti-climactic. Couldn't they have just given these to them instead of having them in some stupid, flashy case? Iggy shook his head at the empty box. Why had he gotten his early? Nothing but the logo on the front separated his package from the others in the room

Disappointment replaced his anxiousness. With his shoulders slumping, he sat down beside his opened container and sighed. He took another glance at the box. Surely this couldn't be it. Perhaps he hadn't looked hard enough.

He decided to have another look. Sticking his hands into the box, he fished around a bit. He wasn't expecting to find anything else. His optimism vanished faster than a speeding Skimmer. This might've been Voltai's plan the entire time. Get his hopes up just to crush them. The man seemed like the type to play a trick like that. But when Iggy's fingers brushed against something hard inside, he realized there indeed was more to the case than what laid on the surface.

He glanced around the room, making sure no one else had their eyes on him, before pulling out the palm-width card hiding at the bottom of the box. It was smooth and flat like a pressed piece of silver.

And it was blank.

No words, no holographic image, nothing.

Surely the emperor hadn't slipped in a useless piece of metal for the hell of it.

Iggy turned it over and studied the back. There wasn't much to look at it, as it was identical to the front. He drew his brows together and pursed his lips. Why would they put a blank card? Had it made its way inside by accident? He dismissed the thought with a shake of his head. Elysians didn't make mistakes; in fact, they likely had a Hand curate his case. Androids didn't make errors either. The metal card was included for a reason. He just had to find out what that reason was.

He decided he'd try again after breakfast. A quick training session and some food might help him get to the bottom of this mystery. After stuffing his uniform back into the box and closing it, he slipped the card into the pocket of his shorts and headed to the bathroom to freshen up for the day.

#

By the time the opening sequence for the night's game rolled around, Iggy still hadn't received any clarity on the mystery item found in his emperor-issued box.

He stood in the tunnel with the other tributes, acutely aware of the sound of the crowd outside. His eyes bounced about the bright corridor like springs. Wringing his hands, he forced himself to stare down at his shoes. Around him, the other tributes sported brave faces. Some even waved at invisible cameras. Iggy swallowed the lump in his esophagus. He figured he should do the same. Showing weakness at a time like this would only put a target on his back. The cameras hiding around him were also likely broadcasting all their faces to the crowd outside before the challenge started.

He inhaled deeply. The breath left through his nose; it didn't take his nervousness with it. The best he could do was fake confidence now. Setting his jaw, he straightened his posture and forced a neutral expression on his face. His gaze locked onto the blue forefield buzzing up ahead.

A few of the tributes around him began speaking amongst themselves, mostly theorizing about what they were up against. No one had a clue, including Iggy. The forcefield sectioning them off from the rest of the stadium distorted the image of the arena.

Like before, they were going into the game blind.

Iggy stuck his hand into the pocket of his pants. Two things hid inside: his father's medallion and the silver card. He went for the card. Still blank. His lip twitched.

"Stupid thing," he grumbled. As he went to put it back inside his pocket, it lit up with a flash of gold. Eyes widening, he held it up to his eyes.

"What is that?" someone behind him asked.

"I've got no idea." He watched it carefully. Right before his eyes, glowing words in golden script appeared across the glossy surface. "Woah..."

In curled lettering read:

Show them who you are.

Before he could examine it further, the letters vanished. The card became a blank slate once again. He blinked twice; his forehead creased as he hung onto the words blinking inside his head. He debated whether he'd seen them or if his tired brain was playing tricks on him.

No. That message was real.

But who was it from?

The box was from the emperor. But why would Voltai give what appeared to be words of encouragement? But as he recalled the handwriting, he realized the emperor hadn't written it. Why would he? He doubted any of the other members of the Au Castus family wrote it either.

Iggy's eyes widened. Noia's beautiful face entered his head. He thought back to their second chat in the palace.

"Do you trust me?"

He wasn't sure then. He wasn't even sure now. But one thing had changed since that day—he knew her secret. His hand slipped back into his pocket, this time pulling out his father's medallion. The symbol of the Centuri Order stared back at him. The translucent amber caught the light of the light pouring from the walls around him.

He didn't quite know who wrote that note. It didn't matter, though.

"Show them who you are," it told him.

He nodded to himself. That's exactly what he'd do.

"Tributes, ten seconds until the start of the challenge," a voice announced. Iggy nodded. Up ahead, the forcefield disengaged. "You may now enter the arena."

The other tributes passed him by as they entered what would likely become their final resting place in the next few minutes. Tenn glided past him, his face pointed forward and his arms crossed. He didn't look bothered in the slightest. Iggy pretended not to see him.

Tonight wasn't about the Andradan. It wasn't about any of the other tributes, the emperor, or even the games themselves. This time it was about himself: Iggorii Amrada of Yensari, son of Icarii and Junaa.

This was his moment.

Tenn, Ivy Brightway, Jaxon Gunn, and Emperor Voltai Au Castus all thought they knew him. The people in the stands thought they knew him too after a few interviews. But they didn't. Not really.

He slipped the necklace over his neck and let the medallion settle on his chest. Light from the walls glimmered off the metal. It shined on his uniform like a star. Lifting his chin proudly, he stepped out into the arena.

They didn't know him. After tonight, they would.