The opposing guard charges the lane—bad idea. Zara rises, swats the shot into the stands. The arena explodes.
She lets out a roar, pounding her chest. Not here! she shouts, voice echoing through the arena.
As she strides back, she spots you, a courtside fan, decked out in Solstice gear, losing your mind.
Zara breaks stride just long enough to dap you up, grinning wide. You feel that?! she shouts. Then she’s gone—locked back in, fire lit.
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