Chapter 20 Reverie
Reverie
I’m given zero time to prepare.
And no weapons.
The stands are packed shoulder-to-shoulder, every Aurathion who loves a spectacle perched on the edge of their seat. Today’s entertainment? The traitor who wouldn’t kill the Varruk at their demand.
I’m also pretty sure that his escape and the escape of the creatures kept for the amusement of the DF are being blamed directly on me. A surge of pride takes over, and my spine stiffens. I might die here today, but I’ve accomplished at least one thing.
Selene leans over the upper balcony, dressed in metal the color of spilled wine, smiling at me as if she’s already cut my throat.
Seamus stands beside her, smirking, fingers curled around the railing as if he can already taste the kill.
And fucking Kristine is sitting below them in the front row with the rest of her Faction, smiling like it’s Christmas.
Then I see Torren.
Tall, armor dented from training, jaw clenched. He stands with the other warriors, but his eyes never leave me—not once. Concern? Curiosity? Something darker? I can’t tell. But when my gaze meets his, he gives the slightest nod.
You’ve got this.
Maybe.
Maybe not.
Without weapons, my only option is to use my abilities. Keeping them a secret at this point isn’t feasible. I hope my guys have a plan because once Selene sees how powerful I really am, I’ll be executed.
The gate lifts.
Metal shrieks.
Something snarls.
The Cryptfiends spill out like nightmares skinned and stitched back together wrong—elongated limbs, long fingers that end in curved claws—smelling like death and bad decisions. Several Gerendel followed behind them.
The crowd cheers.
I hear the whisper of chains behind me—guards stepping back, sealing the exit.
They want a show.
They want death.
Preferably mine.
The Cryptfiends move first. Not a charge…a slow stalk. They test the air, tasting me, hissing low and rumbling. Their movements are coordinated—wolves on two legs.
The nearest one clicks its jaw open so wide I hear the bone pop.
I could try to outrun it. Hide. Beg. That’s what they want, what they expect.
Instead, I stand perfectly still.
My pulse hammers. My blood heats. But something inside me rises—sharp, electric, ancient.
And then I hear a voice.
“It is time.”
The voice doesn’t come from the stands. It comes from everywhere and nowhere, whispered in a language that hasn’t been spoken in centuries.
The Cryptfiends heard it too. Their heads snapped toward me in unison. Strangely, the Gerendel stumbled back into the tunnel they had come from. Maybe they sensed that something wasn’t right.
My palms burned, and I couldn’t hold back. Suddenly, they ignited.
I curled my fingers to try and hide the shimmer, but sparks leaked between them.
Looks like the cat is out of the bag.
Selene leaned forward in her seat, her face showing the realization. Panic gripped her features.
Did she really believe that the daughter of Adelaide Hawthorne would be powerless? If the expression on her face is any indicator, then the answer is… yes.
The first Cryptfiend lunged.
My body moved on instinct without conscious thought. Heat roared up my arm, light flared, and when my palm met its chest, fire erupted—not wild—controlled. Directed. Like I’ve done it a thousand times.
The beast shrieked, flipping backward in the sand, chest smoldering.
The crowd goes completely silent.
I glance over at Torren, and he looks stunned—like he’s watching someone he’s seen a thousand times suddenly become a stranger.
Two more rush me. One bites me viciously as I burn the first, but I barely feel the pain.
I pivot, blast sand into glass beneath my heel, slide under a swinging claw, and slam a wall of heat between us. Fire arcs outward, burning him into ash.
Whispers break out in the stands.
Selene stands.
Seamus swears.
Ubel, whom I hadn’t noticed before, whispers something to Selene, and she smirks.
And then, with a single signal from Selene’s hand, three more gates slam open.
Six more Cryptfiends flood the arena—bigger, faster, starving.
The crowd roars.
My stomach drops.
I’m still dripping fire from my palms, breathing like my lungs are full of coals. I can barely hold myself upright, and the monsters are coming again—twice the number, twice the size.
One leaps.
I raise my arm, but I’m too slow—and something slams into the sand between us.
A blast of invisible force ripples outward, hurling Cryptfiends back like ragdolls.
The dust clears.
Oren stands there—dark hair whipping in the wind, palm still raised, that dangerous calm in his eyes.
“Sorry, we’re late.” He says. “Traffic.”
Before the crowd realizes what’s happening, two massive shadows drop from the coliseum walls.
Zeke.
Zane.
The twins hit the sand in perfect sync—ice crackling across Zeke’s skin, fire igniting along Zane’s arms. Blue-white frost races across the ground, freezing Cryptfiend limbs mid-lunge. Zane’s flames explode outward, searing the sand into glass.
The arena screams.
Guards panic.
Archers aim.
The crowd scrambles backward.
The final two appear like two demons straight from hell itself.
Nathan flickers into existence beside me—flames covering his arms. Jet emerges from behind a pillar, knife dripping blood, and eyes burning with fury.
Five men.
My men.
My heart nearly caves in.
Oren reaches me first. His hands cup my face, voice raw and fierce. “We’re here. We are finally here.”
A Cryptfiend lunges forward.
Oren doesn’t look away from me. He flicks two fingers toward it. Shadows spear upward from the sand, ripping the beast off its feet and dragging it into the darkness.
Another leaps for us—Jet raises his hand, and its power dies. It slams into the ground, limp and shocked, unable to regenerate or shift.
I stare at them in awe—their abilities are beyond amazing.
Zane and Zeke join hands—fire and ice colliding in a violent whirl. Flames spiral outward, encasing the beasts in cylinders of heat, while ice locks their limbs in place.
Nathan teleports behind a Cryptfiend mid-pounce, grabs its head, and fire-teleports—reappearing fifteen feet away as the beast turns to ash in the air.
The crowd is in chaos.
I’m in shock because these men… this Faction is ten times more powerful than it was when I was taken.
Selene screams for archers with their own brand of fire abilities. Ubel jumps from the viewing platform, hands thrown out in front of him, planning to use an ability that I can only guess at.
Torren sees him first, draws steel with brutal speed, and then he and Ubel collide amid the chaos.
I hear a screech that grabs my attention, then I scream, “There are more!”
The final gates open. All the remaining Cryptfiends flood the arena.
It becomes a war, and several things happen simultaneously.
Jet nulls entire waves of fiends, leaving them twitching and powerless, ready to be slaughtered.
Zeke coats the sand in ice spikes, turning the arena floor into a death field.
Zane breathes fire—draxon fire—incinerating anything that gets too close, his skin glowing like embers.
Nathan teleports in bursts of flame, cutting through enemies with brutal efficiency.
Oren summons lightning from the sky, calling it down and striking the Cryptfiends dead where they stand.
And Torren…
Torren fights like he was made for war—matching Oren strike for strike, killing as fast as the others, his eyes never leaving me.
“Where the hell did Ubel go?” I whisper to no one. Did Torren kill him? Was I delusional?
Selene calls for reinforcement.
Archers aim carefully.
And then Jet raises both hands.
For a heartbeat, nothing happens.
Then every guard in the arena—every archer, every mounted soldier—loses their power all at once. Their weapons clatter. Their abilities fizzle. Nothing better than human now.
I hear a scream of protest, then grab my head in pain.
Fucking Kristine.
I drop to my knees, eyes squinting in pain, and see her and her men drop onto the sand.
She approaches, smirking, my men too busy to notice her.
“It’s time to end you, bitch.” She motions to Evan, and I know I only have seconds.
Her eyes widen as I drop my hands from my head and stand with ease. “It’s time for someone to die, but it’s not going to be me.”
I’m too powerful for her ability to touch me now. Four streaks of fire ripped from the palm I raised in their direction. The first three hit each of her Faction before they even had the chance to scream, bodies igniting, skin splitting, then poof—gone—nothing but drifting ash.
“This one's for Jet,” I muttered as the final flame found Kristine. She briefly met my gaze, a quick succession of shock, disbelief, and fear crossing her face. Flesh blistered, hair curled away, her shriek swallowed by the roar of heat until she crumbled into falling gray dust.
“I guess I was too hot to handle,” I smirk, wishing I had the time to piss on her ashes.
I hear a massive roar, and turning, I see Zeke and Zane transform into massive Draxon.
I’m in complete shock, and by the crowd's reaction, I don’t think I’m the only one.
Ice and fire collide.
Stone ruptures.
Pillars crack.
Walls buckle.
The coliseum starts to collapse.
“MOVE!” Oren shouts, grabbing me around the waist and slinging me in Nathan’s direction.
He teleports us to the lower arch as Jet and Oren scale the wall to meet us. Zane melts an exit through the wall. Zeke freezes the ground behind us, slowing the armored guards.
Torren falls in at our backs, defending us as stone begins to fall like rain.
We burst out into the night—and the entire coliseum implodes behind us.
Bellona shakes.
The stands crumble.
Cracks split the earth.
Flames light the night sky.
I can’t believe it. I’m finally free of that place.
Zane laughed, chest heaving. “One star, would not recommend.”
Nathan grinned wickedly. “I’d give that a solid ten stars on the ‘creative destruction’ scale. Although I am disappointed that we didn’t get to sewer surf.”
“You would be disappointed about that.” Zane gagged.