The battle arena became a few floating pieces of ground on the lava sea. Sloan narrowed her eyes to peer through the dense heat in search of Tomay. But everything was red and orange, a single girl in yellow blended in too well. Sloan focused harder, used magic to strengthen her vision in the smoke and haze. Increase the, what was the word, contrast. The colors, once composite, separated; Tomay's body became clear on a distant rock. She hung precariously on the edge, one limp arm flopping against the side.

(Chapter 35)