The first chords of the music—a melancholy violin that cut through the arena's dense air with sharp, precise notes—echoed from the main rink's loudspeakers. Jake Brown closed his eyes for a fraction of a second in the center of the ice, aligning his body's vertical axis. Upon opening them, his violet pupils gleamed with a gelid, unwavering focus. He took his first stroke with his left leg, instantly gathering speed. His individual movements were fluid, a pre-season choreography he had polished with Taishi for months to secure his qualification for October's Grand Prix.
From the Center Box, Zinov watched every transition with an implacable smile. His emerald eyes didn't follow the trajectory of Jake's blades down on the rink; instead, they remained fixed on Aibek's pale face. Noting how the brunette's onyx eyes followed the chestnut-haired skater's every turn below on the ice with devotion and anguish, a spark of pure malice ignited within the blonde.
