Chapter 20: Spearopion
Wesley tightened his grip on the renewed mop, standing shoulder to shoulder with the other cleaners at the edge of the arena.
His eyes never left Gabe, who stood still in the center, a single figure under the looming presence of the beast-box, Instructor Heiron, and the impossible shadow of the owl now watching from a perch high above.
Inside the sealed crate, the guttural scraping continued—steady, rhythmic, like something pacing in rage.
Gabe approached the container slowly, glancing up at Heiron.
The instructor gave a simple nod, then gestured toward the lock mechanism.
But before Gabe could make a decision, an eruption of voices broke the tension.
"THAT ONE!"
"No, no! Pick the one on the left!"
"Gabe, choose the one that was slamming hard earlier, I dare you!"
"Hah! Don’t pick that squirmy one, it’s way too fast for you!"
"Choose the one that sounds like it’s trying to eat the bars, come on!"