The Closing Rite

BlackSand Warrior Gauntlet

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The petals were still falling when Jabir descended.

Black robes untouched by sand. Turban perfectly wound. The red gemstone at his brow gleamed in the low sun like a blood-drop suspended in thought. Two city delegates flanked him, overdressed and undercomposed, still breathless from the match. One dabbed his forehead with a silk cloth. The other whispered about betting margins.

Jabir ignored them.

He stepped into the arena as though onto temple stone. The roar of the crowd above pressed down like weather, but he moved beneath it in absolute stillness.

Justice stood waiting, Blood-drenched, shoulders squared, chainsaw at his side. Silent, as ever.

Jabir approached.

In his left hand, he held the wreath: laurel of goldthread, threaded with obsidian vine. Ancient symbols of dominion and survival. There was no applause from him. No words yet. Only ritual.

He placed the wreath upon Justice’s helmet.

And finally spoke. “The Gauntlet has closed.

Eight warriors entered the sand.

One leaves it unburied.”

He turned slightly, addressing the crowd now, but not loudly. His voice was precise, and the arena listened.

“The blood spilled here has not been wasted. It has been witnessed.

Let none forget:

Death matters more than victory.

And survival, earned through intent, is no accident.”

Then he turned. Cloak sweeping behind him, sandals silent in the dust, and made his way toward the far tunnel.

Behind him, Justice remained still. The petals continued to fall.

Two men emerged from a side gate, plain robes, dark gloves, their eyes lowered. They moved quickly to Tad’s body, still slumped against the boulder. No words. Just clean movement. The shield was not retrieved.

The body was lowered onto a black-stretched litter.

The crowd did not cheer.

They had seen glory.

Now they were watching the cleanup.

The men carried the corpse of Tad after Jabir, disappearing into the same gate he had passed through. A heavy iron portcullis slid down behind them, sealing with a final, resonant clang.

From above, no more petals fell.

The arena floor emptied.

The tournament was over.

Entered by: 0x6424…79B4