7. Chapter Seven
Chapter Seven
T hrax
The strange room they gave me felt too small, too confining. Despite Varro’s assurances that I was free to move about, I still had trouble believing him. I found myself waiting for permission, for orders that never came.
Earlier today, I gathered my courage and ventured outside. Varro had mentioned an atrium that was open to the sky. I thought perhaps I could see one of these impossible flying machines he had spoken of.
The moment I stepped into the open space, I felt exposed. The sky above was vast and empty, a shade of blue I didn’t remember seeing before. Was even the color of the heavens different in this new world?
Movement caught my eye, and I paused. A woman was sitting at a wooden table, bent over a slim silver box. I considered leaving, still not sure I was allowed to wander, especially with a free woman sitting alone, without a male relative.
But something kept me rooted to the spot. She hadn’t noticed me yet, and I allowed myself a moment to take her measure. She was small, with hair the color of rich earth. It had been cut strangely, like a young boy’s, but I found it made her femininity shine all the brighter. It barely covered her nape in the back and curled softly around her face. Her nose was narrow, her lips slim and pressed tight as she worked .
As my gaze traveled down, I noticed the graceful curve of her neck, and, unbidden, an image flashed in my mind—my lips pressed against that soft skin as I breathed in her feminine scent. Immediately, I pushed the thought away. Such dreams were not for men like me.
I forced my eyes skyward, searching for any sign of the metal birds Varro described. If I could just see one, perhaps I could finally accept that two thousand years had truly passed since last I walked upon the earth.
The sky remained stubbornly empty.
At one point, I felt the woman’s eyes on me. When she noticed me, I knew I should leave. Briefly, our gazes met. Her eyes were a warm brown, filled with curiosity and something else… compassion? The thought was strange, but not unwelcome.
With a final glance at the empty sky, I slipped out of the atrium as quietly as I came in.
Now back in my room, I sit on the edge of the bed, my thoughts spinning. Varro and Laura keep telling me I’m free, but freedom is as strange to me as these flying machines they talk about, ones I’ve never even seen. I’ve always been a slave, doing what I had to do to survive—nothing more.
But… the woman in the atrium hadn’t looked at me with fear, contempt, or disgust. There was something kind in her eyes, a softness I’m not used to. For a moment, I allow myself to imagine something different. A life where I’m not defined by my scars or my past.
Such thoughts are dangerous, but not impossible. I am what I am—a gladiator, a man out of time. But perhaps I can be more. Maybe this new world has possibilities I never thought existed.
Sleep won’t come easily in this place where even the air feels wrong. But I’ve survived worse than a restless night. Tomorrow I’ll return to the atrium—not because anyone orders me to, but because I choose to. Strange how such a small decision can feel like a victory in the arena.