I woke as if I'd been drowning, fear pumping in my throat as I opened my eyes to suffocating darkness. Why am I so cold? I shivered, lurching upright when I felt a paper-thin gown in place of my clothes. I outstretched an arm searching for walls, finding panic instead when I felt them too soon. The room was small, barely wide enough for a person to lay.

  Did they take me? Fear churned in my gut as fragments streaked across my mind’s eye. I cradled my knees, rocking back and forth, reeling as horrible images blared in rapid succession.

  Cedric…his eyes wide in terror.

  I killed him, I mouthed, curling my fingers, almost feeling the knife in my hand.

  I remembered being weak, too weak to move, like I’d spent all of myself…I’d given up on escaping…

  Memories cascaded in.

  The stabbing pain in my neck, the woman in white…hovering over me. My body going numb, and then…nothing.

  What did she put in my neck?

  I placed my hand there, panicking as I felt something else.

  “A collar?” I gasped, wrapping my fingers underneath, feeling for a clasp, or some way to pull it off. There was none.

  I clawed at the walls instead, searching for an exit. Air came in gasps as the tightness of the room seemed to constrict around my chest. My lungs felt too shallow to hold my breath. My fingers had started to numb when a voice pushed into my head.

  Calm, it said, as the very feeling washed over me, and I felt my heart start to slow.

  That voice...it was the seed...only it seemed slightly older now, like it’d aged.

  “Where…where are we?” I breathed, hoping it would answer. It didn’t respond, instead my muscles tensed as a new voice came through the walls.

  All four walls separated from the floor and began lifting away, the sunlight stabbing at my eyes as it spilled in. I spun, squinting through harsh light as I searched for any clue of where I was. It didn’t take long to make out several figures standing against the sunlight. I was surprised to find myself still calm, despite being surrounded.

  I leaped at the first silhouette, only to collapse with a howl as pain seared into my neck.

  I grasped at the collar, still groaning, as two hands grabbed my shoulders, pulling me to my knees.

  “You’ve made quite the mess, my dear,” an older man said dryly as he stepped through the circle of guards. I didn’t recognize him.

  “Who—" I rasped, still reeling from the collar as I examined the man. He wore a deep blue jacket, its gold and silver embroidery flowing up into a stiff, high-necked collar that framed his jaw.

  “You may address me as Master Aldren,” he said, folding his gloved hands behind his back. Master Aldren?

  “Where am I?” I asked, more alarm in my voice, “What did you do to me?”

  “All you need to know is that if you become hostile, or attempt to escape, this will happen.”

  I spasmed in pain as he twisted one of the rings on his fingers. I fell on my side, mouth open in silent agony. It spread like liquid fire, burning through me as if someone had melted iron and emptied the crucible into my veins. I curled into a ball, gasping for air, until finally it ended.

  “And depending on the circumstances I may not feel inclined make it stop,” he added, coolly.

  His words hummed like insects in the distance. Meaningless, as if they were meant for someone else. I felt myself folding inward, watching from somewhere behind my eyes as the ground sank away.

  A force smacked the side of my head, rattling me as I looked down to find I’d been lifted back to my knees.

  “Pay attention,” One of the guards said, it took a moment to realize he’d struck me. Aldren continued as if nothing had happened.

  “Despite your many crimes the gods have decided to grant you—”

  “Please kill me,” I breathed, meeting his gaze, as I repeated the word more firmly, “Please.” I was beyond tears, I barely felt anything at all.

  My family was gone. I was ready to die with them if my father hadn’t…if he hadn’t begged me to run. I thought about the field, what Cedric had done, if I had to go through that again then I'd be better off dead.

  I thought I saw a softness in his eyes, a flicker of compassion, quickly swallowed by contempt.

  “Make no mistake, girl. Were the decision mine, I’d have you dissected and fed to an incinerator,” he scowled, shaking his head as he continued.

  “But the gods, in their infinite generosity, have chosen to grant you an opportunity to atone…That is, depending on how well you do today.”

  “And then…if I do well, you’ll kill me?”

  He seemed flustered, as if he hadn’t expected the conversation to go this way.

  “No,” he snarked, “I’m offering you a chance to live.”

  “But I want to die,” I deadpanned. “Remember?” His face flushed red as he reached for the ring. I stiffened, teeth clenched, bracing for the pain. Instead, one of the guards leaned toward him, whispering something that seemed to calm him. I felt my body relax as he let go of the ring.

  What did that guard say to make him stop. I was surprised to find myself more irritated with the guard than Aldren. It must have shown on my face because he scoffed with mild amusement.

  “This won't kill you,” he said, holding out the hand with the ring, “but it could spoil your chances in the arena. So, I’ll ignore your blatant disrespect…this time,” he warned.

  “Arena?” I echoed, brow furrowing.

  And why would he care about spoiling my chances?

  “Help her dress for the coliseum.” He motioned, ignoring my question as several women came into view, one of them holding a large pack with both arms. I stared around indignantly at the guards. Dress? Do they expect me to strip in front of them?

  Before I could protest, several of the women encircled me, unfurling a thin sheet of fabric, blocking my body from view as the one holding the pack approached. She avoided my eyes as she worked, laying the pack on the floor and pulling a bundle of clothing from inside. The other woman motioned for my gown, flinching when I swatted her hand away.

  This tale has been unlawfully lifted from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere.

  “I haven't agreed to anything,” I said, letting the irritation into my voice.

  “You can fight in that medical gown or fight in the armor the gods have graciously provided, either way you're fighting. Unless you’d rather I activate your collar again?” Aldren called from behind the make-shift curtain.

  Fight? So, this coliseum is where people fight? I debated egging him on, refusing until he had to use the collar, but would it even kill me? If he was being honest, I'd just endure more pain for nothing.

  “Who am I fighting?” I pleaded, my voice equal parts panic and irritation. None of this made sense, and all of it was happening too fast.

  I’d only just woken up, and they expected me to fight in some game? I looked myself over, suddenly realizing what was missing. There were no injuries at all, no signs of what happened in the fields, or whatever happened before I’d gotten to Cedric. I remembered how much pain I’d been in as I held the knife in his chest. Did they heal me? Or was it the seed?

  “Why do you care,” Aldren answered, indifferent, “Doubt you’ve ever met them...just kill whatever steps onto the sands.”

  I said nothing, silently weighing my options as I eyed the bundle in the woman’s arms. It looked like a patchwork of leather and steel, it seemed more for show than to offer any real protection. It looked well worn, almost ancient, still I suppose it would be better to die in than this paper gown.

  Reluctantly I lifted my arms, a sudden realization coming as one of the women lifted the gown away.

  “Where’s my dress,” I asked, with no attempt to soften the demand. I was angry and not entirely convinced that going into these games would be any better than letting him torture me to death right here.

  “The one I was wearing when you kidnapped me,” I added when there was no response.

  If I was going to die, I wanted to do it wearing something my mother made for me.

  “How should I know? Burned, probably,” he answered, as if it were settled.

  Of course they’d burn it, they’d burn me too without a second thought, why would they care about my things. I thought, feeling a single hot tear stream down my cheek. I let my gaze fall to the floor, fists clenched as I watched one of the women fixing metal grieves around my ankles. She'd frozen at his words, looking up to meet my eyes and pausing for a moment, as if unsure whether to say something.

  “We do have it, Master Aldren,” she said over her shoulder, “Lord Caelan asked us to wash it in case.” She unfurled another bundle, revealing familiar greens and browns of my dress and holding it above the makeshift curtain so Aldren could see.

  Lord Caelan, I echoed internally, wondering if it was the same lord I’d seen in the temple.

  “Wear whatever you’d like,” he replied, as if it made no difference to him. The woman gave a gentle smile as she helped me into my dress.

  “Thank you,” I croaked, a breath hitching at the first kindness I’d been shown in longer than I could remember. Both women took a step back in unison, each bowing their head as the curtain fell around us, the other women having released it. None of them bothered to retrieve the thin piece of fabric before departing.

  I felt my stomach churn as Aldren looked me over, nodding his approval. The fact that this evil, uncaring bastard approved of the way I looked made me want to set myself on fire.

  “Prepare her for transit,” he ordered, sending a jolt of panic through me as several of the guards moved closer. I straightened, throwing up my arms and causing several of the guards to hesitate.

  “Aht,” Aldren exclaimed, holding the ring with two fingers. “No need for dramatics, I’d rather not use this nasty little thing.”

  I forced myself to relax, letting out a breath as my hands fell to my sides. It took all my self-control not to react when two guards clamped metal bracers around my forearms. I stared at them for a moment, confused how they would restrain me, until one pressed a button on his wrist and my arms clanged together in front of me.

  “Ow,” I let out. They didn’t necessarily hurt, so much as they surprised me.

  “It’s only for the ride,” Aldren assured, his smug expression doing nothing to put me at ease. I nodded anyways, taking a final look around at the barren space, noting the mechanical device above that had hoisted away the container I woke in as we made our way out into the sunlight, all five guards less than a foot away as we walked.

  I heard a deep whirr, followed by a grinding metal hum as I turned my head to see the wall that was open had begun to slide closed behind us. I squinted through the sunlight as we stepped out onto a broad stretch of open ground...if it could be called that. The floor wasn’t quite metal or stone. It had a dull sheen like weathered iron and seemed to give slightly, offering a spring with every step.

  I wondered where we could be going, and more importantly where I was, as fifty paces ahead the platform simply ended.

  I got my answer as something moved into the suns path, blocking it just long enough to reveal the surrounding spires and the massive dome overhead.

  “The city in the sky,” I breathed, drawing a derisive snort from Aldren.

  “Indeed, while in service to the gods you’ll be living in their city,” he remarked, in his usual tired cadence. I simply stared, awestruck, at the gleaming skyline I used to trace in the stars from my village.

  The surprise I felt at that was nothing, however, as a gentle wind drew my attention to the object blocking the sun.

  A chariot. I couldn’t help the feeling of wonder despite my situation, as the golden vehicle spun round. Dust lifted round the edges where it skimmed over the platform as the back of the vessel opened, folding downward into a ramp.

  My eyes flicked around the craft as we walked inside, taking in the strange symbols shining across a dozen panels of light, where two men already sat.

  Despite its mirrored surface on the outside, I could see the sky and surrounding buildings clearly from within. Even the floor, I realized, stumbling as we lifted off and there seemed to be nothing but air beneath my feet.

  I’d almost forgotten all my feelings of dread when a guard snapped me back to the present.

  “Sit,” He ordered, gesturing to one of the ten or so seats along the walls of the craft. I sat, feeling some of my stress return as Aldren took the seat across from me. Something about his knowing, tight-lipped smile, sent a short spike of anger through me as I glared at the old man. What isn’t he telling me?

  “If I win in this...arena...what then? I go back to my village?” I asked, still unsure why they needed me for this, and why they’d consider letting me live at all. The Sanctari decided to kill me for stealing a flower. They killed Ada for even less. None of it made sense.

  “No,” he snorted, as if holding in a laugh, “I doubt you’d like that very much anyways. Should you survive today’s opponent, you’ll be a gladiator, under the patronage of Lord Caelan.” He paused to let the words sink in.

  A lord? What could a lord need from me?

  “Why doesn’t this...Lord Caelan...fight in the arena himself?” I asked, face turning red as the entire chariot seemed to laugh.

  “You’ll be fighting for his amusement, as well as the amusement of others that might come to watch, lords and lowborn alike,” Alrden clarified, speaking to me like a child.

  “Lowborn...like me?” I wanted to understand this world better, despite all their ribbing.

  “Ha, no dear. Not quite as low born as you,” he smirked from his seat across the aisle. I felt my jaw tighten as another round of chuckles came from the guards. It wasn’t enough to make me feel stupid; he had to remind me of my place too.

  “If you’re so much better than me, why do I need to wear this?” They all went silent as I raised my chin, showing the collar around my neck.

  “The animal asks why she’s restrained.” Aldren muttered, laughing, “we both know you’d rip my neck out if you had the chance.”

  “But as my better, shouldn’t you be strong enough to stop me?”

  Someone choked out a laugh before catching themselves, causing the old man’s cheeks to burn as he straightened. All the amusement drained from his eyes.

  “That isn’t how the world works,” he answered, speaking down to me like a parent scolding their child.

  The chariot lurched, causing everyone to grip their armrests as we swung into a turn. The interruption seemed to help him regain composure as the coliseum came into view.

  It was far too beautiful a place for the kind of killing Aldren suggested. Row upon row of marble extended upward in a massive circle, each layer divided with decorative gold, inlaid with symbols and snarling beasts I didn’t recognize. From overhead I saw the stands, descending in tiers to form a perfect bowl, except that the circle of sandy earth at its center seemed to hang in the air, suspended by nothing. I could see the surface below, a blur of greens and blues, through the narrow strip of air that separated the flat center from the stands.

  “That’s where you’ll be fighting.” Aldren said, nodding at the center of the bowl.

  “Why?” I interrupted, sick of him arrogantly stating what I’d be doing, as if I had no say in it.

  “You will fight,” he stated, as if it were settled. I pressed on despite the irritated expression on his face, “Why bother? Why wouldn’t I just let myself die, and spare myself the trouble?”

  “Oh, I see. You want to know what’s in it for you.” He chuckled softly, pinching the bridge of his nose, “well, there’s your freedom for one thing. That aside, I doubt that seed you’re carrying would let you.”

  I frowned at the last part, was he right? Would the seed stop me if I tried to end my own life? My heart sank as a feeling hummed inside me, like a gentle nod inside my chest. Somehow, I knew immediately what the seed was trying to say—that it wouldn’t let me die, even if I wanted to. How did he even know about the seed? Come to think of it, how much did he know? I thought back to the images swirling in the Sanctari’s hand when it questioned me. Could he do something similar? Conjure images of my past?

  “You’d just let me go?” I asked, not bothering to hide the skepticism in my voice.

  “Of course, the best gladiators are always set free, it’s tradition.”