Chapter 13
Reverie
The fight in the coliseum was less than an hour away, and I still hadn’t decided how to escape this predicament.
I paced nervously in the designated warm-up area.
Defeating the Varruk seemed impossible, and I sensed it might not even be necessary.
His respectful attitude suggested he might choose not to fight me at all.
“So, you’re fighting the Varruk?” I turned and saw Torren standing there with a frown on his face.
“Seems that way.” I smiled. “You don’t think I can take him?” I joked to keep from crying.
He frowned in disapproval, “You shouldn’t make light of this. I’ve seen them fight, and they are basically undefeatable.”
“Do I have a choice? Better to get through it with humor than to cry.” I smirked, “Can you imagine me bawling on the floor? That would really tank my street cred.”
“What the hell is street cred?” He asked, tilting his head to the side like a questioning puppy.
“It doesn’t matter. I need to warm up, maybe for the last time.” I tried to laugh, but it fell flat.
“When do you go on?” He grabbed one of my short swords and checked it for sharpness. Then he handed it back to me and motioned for me to give him the other one.
“In a little less than an hour.” I raised one brow. “Do you want to help me escape?” I joked.
“There’s no time for that.” Torren pulled me into an alcove to give us some privacy away from the other warriors.
“Listen closely. The Varruk does have one weakness. Their hide is incredibly thick, but directly under their chin is a spot that’s thin enough for a sword to penetrate.
” Torren grabbed my arm and pulled me closer as a couple of men walked near the alcove, bringing his mouth to my ear.
“You’ll have to work to get him to expose it, but I have faith you’ll be successful.
” I shivered at the feeling of his warm breath on my ear.
He startled me when he grabbed my chin to stare directly into my eyes.
“You will survive. I won’t accept any other outcome.
” He pressed his lips to mine, kissing me so hard that it was almost painful.
I was so stunned by his actions that it took me a moment to recover from the shock, and by then he had already disappeared. “What the actual fuck?” I whispered, touching a finger to my lips that were still tingling.
I didn’t know what to think, but right now, I needed to get my head in the game.
I walked out of the alcove and started my warm-up.
I remembered Grumpy telling me that sometimes, when things are out of your control, all you can do is handle each thing as it comes. This was definitely one of those times.
Hopefully, a solution will present itself; if not, I’ll do what I’ve always done and find a way to survive.
Long before I was ready, I heard Seamus calling me to the front to prepare for my entrance. “Come, Reverie, it’s your time to die.” He laughed at what he thought was witty banter. The only one who laughed with him was, of course, Marvin the toady.
With all emotion gone from my face, I stepped toward the doorway, waiting to hear my name. I had participated in many of these battles, yet the butterflies fluttering in my stomach made it hard to believe.
I heard the announcer say in a dramatic voice, “Now we have a special treat for you. Our current undefeated warrior, Reverie Hawthorne, will fight the dreaded Varruk!” The crowd roared. He spread his arms wide. “Wait, wait, there’s more, my lovies.”
What the fuck? How could there be more? Seamus glanced over at me before heading to the stands with an evil smirk on his face. “That can’t be good,” I mumbled under my breath.
The announcer continued, “A surprise guest will join the Varruk…Cryptfiends!!!!” The roar of the crowd was so loud at this point that it drowned out the rest of what the announcer was saying. Then I heard, “Come out, Reverie of the Hawthorne Faction, show us what you’re really made of!”
The air was alive—pulsing, searing—like the entire coliseum breathed as one massive beast waiting for blood.
My blood.
Sand hissed beneath my boots as the sun burned mercilessly overhead. I stared up at the cloud-filled sky, and I wondered if it would be the last thing I ever saw.
Then the gate groaned.
The Varruk stepped through the iron maw.
Caged, he’d looked monstrous—but out here, under the sun, he was something else entirely. His skin caught the light like weathered bronze, scars mapped stories I didn’t want to know. His eyes found me immediately.
No rage.
No bloodlust.
Just… awareness.
Recognition.
He dragged the weapon they’d allotted him on the ground, heavy steel scraping across the sand. When the gate clanged shut, he didn’t lift it. Didn’t move.
I braced myself.
Waiting for the charge.
For the roar.
But the sound that ripped through the coliseum wasn’t his.
The earth split open—literally split—and three Cryptfiends clawed their way out, all teeth and sinew, dripping rot, followed closely by dozens more. The crowd went feral, chanting for a kill.
Unfortunately, I didn’t think it was in my support. I felt a moment of desperation and then… acceptance. No way I could win against the Varruk and dozens of Cryptfiends.
I locked eyes with the Varruk, and to my surprise, he made that same strange gesture to me as he had in the cell and in my dream the previous night.
Then turned his back on me and roared—not at me, for me.
A sound that vibrated in my bones, older than memory.
Before I could react, he swung his blade and split a Cryptfiend in half.
Black ichor hit my cheek, hot and reeking of death.
The second creature lunged straight for me. I met it halfway, steel flashing in an arc. My right blade buried deep in its jaw; my left tore across its throat. Black blood hit my chest like rain.
The Varruk was beside me before the body hit the ground. We fought in sync—his brute strength breaking through armor, my blades finding every gap and soft spot—a rhythm built between us—violent, perfect. I didn’t think; I just moved, reacting to him as if we’d fought together for years.
The last Cryptfiends tried to flank me, but the Varruk intercepted. His weapon shattered both of their skulls with one clean strike.
Silence fell.
Then he dropped to his knees in front of me and tilted his head back—exposing the kill spot under his chin.
A gesture of surrender. Or allegiance.
My grip on the swords tightened. I could end him. End all of this. But my body refused to move. My pulse roared louder than the crowd. The place on my wrist that Pantar had bitten to bond us together, thrummed, hot and bright, like it recognized something in him.
The air between us shifted—heavy, electric.
I met his eyes. “Why?”
No answer. Just that look, steady and unflinching, like he’d been waiting for me long before I was ever born.
The crowd screamed for blood, but I barely heard them. Strangely, I thought I heard a Fellat, my Fellat, roar somewhere in the distance.
I stepped forward, blades slick and trembling in my hands, and whispered, “Please, stand with me.”
He did. Slowly. Then gave me a regal nod of approval.
The crowd erupted—chaos and fury and disbelief—but I only heard my heartbeat. And I knew the coliseum would never see a fight like this again. Never would a supposed enemy fight alongside their foe the way the Varruk and I had.
For one breathless moment, there was nothing but the echo of his weapon hitting the ground. The Varruk stood by my side proudly, blood and dust streaking both of us from head to toe.
Then—chaos.
“Finish him, girl!” Seamus’s voice split the silence like a whip.
He stood in the upper tier of the stands, his face flushed from wine and fury. I could see the veins pulsing in his neck even from here.
I didn’t move.
His sneer deepened. “Do it, or I’ll have you dragged in front of your betters and punished!”
The crowd fed on his rage, chanting for a kill. But I could feel something else moving under the surface—a tension, an awareness. The Varruk hadn’t just surrendered; he’d chosen. And whatever he’d chosen, it terrified Seamus.
He shouted again, “Guards!”
I heard the click of crossbows from the platform above the gate. Four soldiers aimed down at the Varruk’s head.
My body moved before my mind caught up. I stepped between them.
Gasps rippled through the stands. The guards hesitated, uncertain.
Seamus’s expression twisted from fury to disbelief. “You insolent little—”
“Try it, and you’ll regret it.” I slid my swords into their sheaths and prepared to reveal my hidden abilities. I wouldn’t… no, I couldn’t let them hurt him if I could stop it.
The Varuk turned his gaze to me, and in his eyes, I saw respect for me and his allegiance.
Seamus screamed in rage, “You’ll regret this, Reverie Hawth—”
The Varruk’s growl cut him off. The sound was deep enough to rattle the sand under my boots.
Seamus flinched. Just slightly—but enough that I saw it.
I took another step forward, pulling my blades from their sheaths and raising both so they caught the sunlight.
“The crowd came for blood,” I said, voice carrying across the arena. “And they got it. Dozens of monsters down.” I tilted my head, eyes locking on Seamus.
Before he could respond, a voice that sent chills down my spine spoke. “Finish him.”
Her voice alone raised the temperature in the arena. Selene appeared at the edge of the observation box; black silk clothing that revealed the menace she carried, hair like gold, her tight smile filled with evil—the kind of control that hides madness.
Seamus tried to match her authority and failed miserably. “You heard her!” He bellowed. “End it!”
The crowd took up the chant again, bloodthirsty and eager.
I didn’t move.
The Varruk’s breath was heavy and deliberate. He wasn’t begging—it was almost as if he was giving me permission to sacrifice him to save myself. And something in me refused to obey.
“No,” I said softly. Hoping my voice didn’t carry the terror I was feeling at this moment.
It was almost a whisper, but the word landed hard. The crowd wavered. Seamus blinked. And Selene’s lips froze halfway through another command.
“What did you say?” She whispered in disbelief.
“I said no.” This time, much firmer than before.
Her composure shattered. The mask cracked from one heartbeat to the next.
“You dare defy me?” The sweetness vanished from her tone—what came out was pure venom.
“You think mercy makes you noble? You think it makes you a hero?” Her eyes went wild, bright with rage.
The air around her seemed to bend with it, silk fluttering though there was no wind.
“Kill him,” she hissed again, “or I’ll—”
“Enough.”
The word rolled through the arena like thunder.
It came from above.
The sound of it silenced everything—even the crowd’s roar died mid-breath. The air itself seemed to hold still.
Selene stiffened. Her head turned upward in disbelief. Her fury faltered, if only for a second.
High above the stands, past the golden glare of sunlight and the dust drifting through it, I saw him—a silhouette framed in shadow. The light hit just behind him, leaving his features lost, only the hard lines of a tall figure standing on a private balcony far above the crowd.
His voice carried again, smooth, deep, and unyielding. “Stand. Down.”
The words weren’t shouted. They didn’t need to be. They carried weight—Not the kind born of fear, but command so absolute it could not be denied.
Selene’s shoulders went rigid. Her mouth opened, then closed again. “Tr—” she started, voice trembling between reverence and panic.
“I said,” the man interrupted, each word precise as a strike. “stand down.”
For the first time in my memory, Selene looked small. Her jaw clenched; her hand trembled as she gripped the rail. Seamus shrank beside her, suddenly eager to be invisible.
The shadowed man turned his head slightly, not toward Selene, but toward me.
Even from that distance, I sensed it. The urge to follow whatever he commanded. The strange awareness rooted me to the spot. My fingers clenched around my hilts, the metal slick with sweat and blood.
The Varruk stood beside me, his massive frame blocking part of the sun. He didn’t bow. Didn’t look away. He just watched that silhouette with something close to recognition and hate.
Selene’s fury simmered beneath her silence. “You can’t mean to let her—”
“I can,” the man said quietly, “and I do.”
A hush rippled through the crowd. The balance of power had shifted—and everyone could feel it.
Selene’s glare fell on me, her voice low and shaking with contained rage. “This isn’t over.”
I only nodded, my voice too thick with fear to speak.
Her eyes held mine for a moment more, then she turned and bowed her head to the man.
The man’s silhouette lingered a moment longer, then he turned, cloak catching the light as he disappeared back into the shadows.
For a long heartbeat, the coliseum held its breath. Then, slowly, the crowd erupted. Fear and awe were clearly displayed in the sound.
Suddenly, I heard in my head, “I’ve been waiting for you for a long time, my Queen.”
I exhaled, still in shock, and narrowed my eyes at the Varruk.
“Lucy, you have some ‘splaining to do.” As comebacks went, it was weak, but it was the best I could do right then. Besides, I’d watched the old black-and-white television series with Grumpy on many occasions, and I always loved that line.
The place where the silhouette had stood still gleamed with sunlight—but all I could feel was the weight of eyes I couldn’t see, and the certainty that whoever he was… he’d have a part in my fate here on out.