19. The Second Game #2
Had Khali answered Lilliana so easily because she knew one of them wouldn’t be able to resist running in without a second thought, just to be the first to complete the game? Lilliana and her followers do have an ego big enough to fill this arena.
I shake my head. Sure, Nero is as prideful as the next cambion here, but does that mean he deserves to die?
Your father would certainly say so.
I shake my head again. “We have to do something,” I say. “We need to help him. To cut the roots.”
I reach down to grab the dagger from my right boot, straighten, and lunge forward.
“Stop!” Diana calls, but I’m already moving, and the momentum is impossible to stop.
The faintest drift of fog forms beneath my feet.
Az whips out an arm, snatching me by my braid so hard and fast I hiss. It’s tight, Khali only braided it this morning.
Az yanks me backward by it anyway…
And saves my life.
“The vines, they are rooting him to the stone,” I say urgently.
At the same time, a weed sprouts near my foot.
Khali’s boot slams down on it.
“It’s too late,” Diana says. “Helping him will only end in more death.”
Fog thickens around Nero’s legs as he struggles against the vines, but his face has already turned blue, the whites of his eyes completely bloodshot.
Only when he goes as still as the stone beneath him does the ground subtly cup his body like a cradle and the roots retreat.
Diana quietly sends a prayer for him to the angels and when she drops her eyes from the sky, they land on Lilliana with a look of suspicion. Then she subtly gestures for our alliance to gather around her.
“Any ideas?” Az asks, his eyes flicking over to Nero’s body. “Either Nero did a bad job of selling it to us, or being hugged to death by weeds isn’t much fun at all.”
Diana frowns. “I don’t know. But I-I think this place feeds on extremes.”
“Extremes?” Khali asks, her eyes on the root she stomped out.
“Yes. Like extreme emotions, extreme movement.”
Past the chaos, the bell glistens in the distance. Our salvation.
I want to run to it but force myself not to. Nero moved too quickly and now he’s gone forever.
I’m faster than him though, and more skilled. Perhaps I can outrun the fog and weeds…
I close my eyes.
Focus, Seraphina. Don’t do anything stupid or impulsive.
When I open them, I look across the giant basin toward Aes and Stannum, but it’s the size of a small city and they look like ants.
It’s hard to tell what’s a shade, wraith or cadet.
I let my gaze linger over the lower terraces where the shades and wraiths continue their cycle of chaos.
“It’s Acedia, by the way,” Lilliana blurts. “The arena, it’s based on the ruins of an old coliseum in Acedia. I was going to tell you, but that bitch mutt interrupted me. Ivy’s from Acedia and has seen the coliseum herself.”
“It’s just like this,” Ivy nods. “But without the wraiths and shades.”
Lilliana’s eyes scan the arena with disgust. “Obsolete. Run down. Shit hole.”
It would make sense, I guess.
“Sloth and diligence,” I say. “Stripped to their worst forms.”
What would my siblings have taught me about diligence?
Observe. Understand the system. Make a plan and see it through to the end. But isn’t that how Nero died?
What would a demon do?
Cheat. Exploit. Cut corners.
It’s not just Nero that you can learn from...
“The shades,” I say. “They’re working without purpose. The wraiths resting without relief. The bell wants—”
“Balance?” Reiva guesses.
Khali shakes her head. “Intention.”
Diana nods as though still trying to piece a strategy or solution together. “Purposeful motion.”
“Chosen restraint,” I mutter in agreement.
Lilliana hears us and scoffs. “Good luck with that.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?” I throw over my shoulder, not bothering to turn to her fully.
“You’ll never make it to the bell if you hesitate. The arena is swarming with crazed creatures.”
But the wraiths and shades hadn’t batted an eyelid at Nero, far too consumed by what they were doing…
“Want to bet?” I ask Lilliana, a plan quickly forming in my head.
“I think I’d rather wait here and watch you fail.”
She folds her arms and lets out a huff, her eyes glancing over her followers to make sure they are all paying attention.
Ivy, the ever and most dutiful follower, doesn’t miss a beat. She sits down on the ground, legs stretched out in front of her, leaning back on her elbows.
“No rush,” she says, crossing one leg over the other. “It's pretty comfy down—”
From nowhere, smoke engulfs her, her legs, her arms, throat, making her choke on her words. Then vines snap out of the earth and close around her wrist, her neck...
I gasp but force myself not to try to help her.
Diana was right.
This game, this arena, it feeds off extremes.
Nero moved too fast, only caring about his target, the bell. Acting with single minded focus and the game killed him for it.
Ivy didn’t want to move at all, just watch idle, lazy, let everyone else do the hard work. A parasite.
Her death is quicker than Nero’s.
The vines don’t have as far to go to reach her neck.
Lilliana is frozen for several seconds as her best friend is swallowed whole by the game.
Ironically, the one designed based on her home region.
Acedia, Scelus’s kingdom of the most slothful, bone idle and lazy Noble family and residents.
Ivy being one of them before going to the Iron Isle for whatever reason, and yet the sin so rampant where she grew up had followed her here and killed her anyway.
Eventually Lilliana pulls her gaze away and pales, then scurries away from her friend as though the vines might come for her next.
If only.
She’s coming right for me and can’t hide the panic from her eyes. “About that bet, Halo-rat,” she demands.
I arch a brow. “Oh, so you’re interested now?”
“Just tell me about the bet!” she snaps, clearly shaken.
Ivy was her closest friend and ally. The equivalent to Lilliana of what Diana is to me. I can’t imagine what it would be like to watch her die.
I almost feel sorry for the demoness.
Almost.
“Fine,” I concede. “If I’m right, and help make sure you survive, you owe me one truth.
” I try to act casual, like everything doesn’t depend on her agreeing to this, but I’m holding my breath as I offer it.
I manage to hold her eyes and my hand is still as I wait for her to shake it, to lock the deal in.
I’ll surely go to Hell making deals with demonesses like this, but I’ve already been, twice, and as awful as both here and the cavern from the feast of endless need are, getting word to my father is more important than whether I make it into the heavens or if I burn for eternity.
Reiva eyes my outstretched hand with suspicion, his brows knitting together, trying to work out why I would offer Lilliana of all people such a bargain.
Eventually he shakes his head and tries to push my hand down with his. “Let her figure the game out herself or die trying, Scarvo. She’d do the same for you.”
I resist the pressure on my wrist and keep my hand held out to my enemy. My arch nemesis, as Diana calls her.
Reiva scoffs but drops his hand. “She only survived the last one thanks to you. You owe her nothing.”
“She’s Ferrum.” Not a lie, but also nothing to do with why I’m offering her a deal either. “We already lost two of ours today.”
Lilliana takes my hand in hers. “Deal.”
She squeezes harder than necessary, and I do the best thing someone can do to get under Lilliana’s skin. I pretend I don’t notice and turn away from her.
All I have to do now is make sure she survives this challenge and the journal will be back with me again.
First, I will tell my father about the academy, the rest, I will figure out later. But if the last couple of weeks have taught me anything, it’s that I don't want to tell him everything all at once and risk him attacking the island.
There are innocent cambion here, and nephilim who will suffer more for returning to Virtus than remaining on the island.
Two things that a few weeks ago I couldn’t imagine ever thinking.
And yet, my eyes have been opened to things I would never have guessed possible.
We start walking and I shake away thoughts of home. The hellish landscape we tread is a stark enough reminder that home is very far away.
I glance up at Silver.
He’s gone.
My eyes quickly search the arena between one blink and the next until I find him and Ravi not that far from where we’d left them. They’re clearly following us though.
We press on, moving with intention. Not fast. Not slow.
We navigate the trail with purpose, not too much pace. Stepping only when the ground settles. When a staircase reforms, we wait for it to finish but don’t linger.
When a shade crosses my path, I stop and let it pass, not touching me or it.
Az leads with Khali, then me and Lilliana take the middle, with Reiva and Diana at the back.
Az grumbles under his breath a list of things he doesn’t like about shades and wraiths and any creatures of Hell.
Then he moves onto his dislike for all things that can fall on you or curl around you or trip you.
Then he’s on to games in general, and his many issues with the two we have faced so far.
He hates it, but he never stops or gives up, he leads our group like I imagine an Overlord might if they were allowed.
The shades and wraiths ignore us, too caught up in their own never-ending loops.
Other Ferrum cadets watch us go, not too keen lest they end up like Nero, but also careful not to linger or be too idle lest they suffer the same fate as Ivy.
By the time we make it to within a few feet of the bell, I notice Silver is somehow already there, leaning against the dead tree, arms folded over his chest, muscles bunched and looking surprisingly proud.
“Where’s Ravi?” I ask, genuinely worried what he’s done with her. I like the hound more than I like most of the cambion here.