CHAPTER 24
“The map is only seen with a hunter's eye. The blade is the map. The stones are the key, and the blood is the answer.” - Book of Azure
TO HELL WITH THIS PLACE. It can all burn.
I refuse to follow their damn rules any longer.
A deep, rumbling growl emerges from my throat.
I have never felt the rage I feel right now. I cannot imagine myself surviving in this place without them.
Theon. Kaine. They feel like long-lost friends, as if I have known them all my life.
My hands flex open and clench shut, over and over, as I stride through the dim tunnel.
My muscles twitch with each aggressive roll of my fists.
Torches flicker violently as I pass them, casting wild shadows that dance with the roars and cheers reverberating from the arena, fueling the burning rage that is consuming my very being.
I fume with a desire that feels uncontrollable, to throw those who watch into the arena for pure amusement into the games.
To witness them tremble and shudder at the sight of a dragon's fury.
Face on. Without any protection. Let them taste the terror of the battle games, the fear of facing a dragon and see how long they would survive in these inhumane games for the Gods.
To win the damn Light Stone for their Realm.
The arena is straight ahead. I see the light from the golden hour glow starting to trickle in, and the smell of burnt flesh singes my nose.
I cover the bottom of my face with my arm, gagging as my stomach clenches, tightening with each step.
The closer I get, the more the smoke thickens, making my eyes burn as I walk through it but as I step forward towards the narrow bridge, my heart plummets and I suck in a deep breath.
My eyes widen as I take in the sight of the pit before me. It's unrecognizable. Huge boulders are scattered throughout, with shields and swords carelessly tossed here and there—all stained with blood.
My bottom lip trembles, frantically searching for any signs of them but I see none.
To the Gods here, don’t let me find them dead.
No dragons. But the cages in the far corners across the pit are closed as a few guards are posted with their spears. I should feel at ease knowing none are freely roaming, yet the overwhelming fear remains since I don't see any dead dragons. This means no dragons have perished—only men have.
I walk the onyx bridge, ash clouds puffing around as I step, covering my boots.
The sizzling sounds fill my ears as I gaze at the numerous bones scattered in the pit below, with the rust dirt around it charred.
Smoke escapes the ground still, fire embers flickering across the gravel, but it’s the silence that is torturing.
Not the bones.
Not the blood.
Not the fact I am about to walk into a bloodbath.
But the damn silence.
The crowd has stopped cheering. Their eyes are glued on me, some with faces of fear as if they know I will die.
They know I don’t stand a chance. Some show anger as if seeing me step foot out into this pit pisses them off.
But as I trail above, staring up into the mountain cliffside, that's when I see the Royals.
Safely far away from the games. Florian.
Skie. Queen Antivianna. They are all there.
Skie has her arms wrapped around Florian’s, almost clenching him tighter once she sees me.
I arch my eyebrows and smirk while performing an exaggerated, mocking curtsey, locking eyes with the Queen before stepping down the wooden stairs that are now charred.
My practice in the Desert of Death finally has come to use.
I’d give her the middle finger, but I doubt the people of this world know what that means.
A few gasps escape from those in the crowd, some beginning to throw their growlers, others throwing their steins. I couldn’t care less, I don’t owe them anything. I am not from here. I don’t care who Florian thinks I am, I cannot be her. They can hate me all they want.
A deafening sound begins to bellow from the arena, and heated arguments erupt. I catch fists fights of men with thick beards that fall down to their chest. I stand in the middle, turning on my heel as I watch those of Azure fight each other over the fact I am here.
The Queen must have known something like this would happen, so why did she do it?
“Silence!” Queen Antivianna hollers through the seashell, the same one that announced the names of those who would compete in the games. “Take a seat, now!”
“A woman in the games is a disgrace! The Gods will punish us more!” A silver-bearded man screams to the right of me, a stein in his hand as he stands, raising it high above his head as the liquid spills over. “You will have us all killed!”
Within a mere second, an arrow soars through the sky, piercing him straight in the heart.
With wide eyes and trembling hands, I shift my body, moving in a circle as I scan the higher perimeter of the mountain tops.
The crowd screeches, cries come from women that sit around him, and one holds his dead body in her lap.
Men begin to rise, yelling and throwing their fists in the air at the Queen.
“If you stand, you will be next,” she declares.
Her long fingers tighten around the ledge, hovering over the golden balcony, glaring down at those who sit in the arena as the men begin to sit. But that’s when I catch sight of the archers up above. How the hell did I never notice them?
Hundreds of them, if not more, are posted up top in what seems like a hidden ledge. Their suits camouflage to the dark browns and greens. They wrap around the mountain, continuing on the ledge of the higher land that overlooks the whole Kingdom. I’m unsure why the Queen would need archers.
“The next group will be joining now,” Queen Antivianna states before taking her seat at her chair. The white twisted wood reflects a fiery red, either from the sun that casts its glow on it, or the people who have been burned in the pit.
I hear footsteps as men begin to walk the bridge down to the pit and I rush behind a boulder, slamming my back against it. Some men beat against their chest, raising their hands as they scream to the crowd, which makes the people yell with excitement. But none of this is exciting.
It’s madness.
My chest heaves as I strain to glimpse who strides into the arena, almost trying to stay invisible to the men, but they know I am here.
I've already counted twenty-four, thinking it was finally over with me as the twenty-fifth.
But then, Koen storms in. The crowd erupts into a frenzy, rising to their feet as their deafening roars shake the very ground beneath us.
Koen halts, taking in their cheers. Unsure if they want to watch him die, or if they want to watch him succeed.
But all I know is I need to stay the hell away from him.
The cage slowly begins to rise to the left of me, and hot smoke blows out, singeing my skin. I deeply exhale, closing my eyes from the rush of hot air but when I open, my skin remains fine. It doesn’t burn. It isn’t red. But perfectly fine.
With my back still glued to the boulder, I slowly begin to slide around it to be on the opposite side of where the dragon will soar from. My throat tightens, trying to inhale, but the air is too hot and thick with smoke.
Shit.
A blazing, deep-red fire erupts violently to my right, its scorching force whipping my hair into a frenzy. I squeeze my eyes shut from the heat, a muted cry ripping from my throat. My chest rises and falls rapidly as some men moan in pain, others screaming from the depths of their soul.
A man uses his elbow to drag himself over the rusty dirt, his body heavy as I hear him groan with each pull and see his jaw tightly clenched.
His long, pitch-black hair hides most of his face, but when his entire form becomes visible, it's clear that his legs are severely burned.
They are sizzling with red blood pooling all around, smearing along the ground.
His calves are charred, and parts of his bones are exposed. But when he sees me, his eyes widen.
“Kill me!” he cries out to me. “Do it now!”
I freeze. My brows pull together, looking around to see if anyone else can take him out of his misery. That’s when I hear another cage clink, the metal shaking against the rocky wall. Another dragon must be released.
“It’s one from the Darklands! The one with lava!” I hear a man shout out, his voice carrying in the wind. “Stand your ground, men!”
I snap my gaze over my shoulder, peeking around the boulder, and that's when I see the dragons.
They tower over us all, their necks swiveling and their heads almost touching where the Royals sit.
But when the grayish one tries to blow fire towards the Royals, the fire blows back towards the dragon, bouncing off of an invisible shield.
So that is how they stay safe.
One, almost as dark as the midnight sky with no stars, has hundreds of spikes from the top of its head weaving down its spine and to its tail that cuts out into two.
Shadowy smoke swivels around it, the charred wings which seem like lava weaving inside of them whip in the air, gusting the men to their backs.
Lava trickles out from its scaly chest, singeing the ground around its massive feet.
Its eyes are what creates goosebumps all over me—they glow a fiery red, brighter than any star I have ever seen.
The gray one that fights off a few men to the right of me is smaller, reaching the other dragon’s shoulder blades. It has no spikes and has one long tail that swings, throwing a few of the men against the rocky walls that wrap around the arena.
Now I see why everyone fears the ones from the Darklands.
“Please!” the man shouts out to me. I almost forgot he was there.