The sun was gone, the moon had arrived, and Socia sat on fine leather, sunk deep into the seat. Her Amber Lady in front of her while her servant held the wheels, leaving the two of them to socialize in the ample space they had at their disposal.

  A gilded masterwork was the only thing its owner could accept; after all, she considered herself — a masterpiece.

  Home.

  I want to go home.

  How many times had she thought that by now? Ten times? A hundred? She wanted to get away, yet she also wanted to stay.

  Near her. Her voice, her touch was intoxicating.

  Do you hear me, My Lady?

  Repeatedly, she prayed. Or did she? To her Lady, to appear from the sky once more and carry her away from this — divinity.

  Her Amber Lady’s fingers. Like silk against her skin.

  Socia indulged herself in the wine that never seemed to end. Her empty glass filled every time her gaze left it.

  Wine from air.

  Was she drunk on wine? Or on her?

  She wasn’t a mortal, alcohol didn’t have the same effect it once had, but it still dulled her senses. It was a poison of a sort in the end.

  Her Amber Lady told a joke, Socia laughed, yet she avoided her eyes. Tried to gaze away. Into the night. At the city outside. Its buildings of brick, low and worn.

  They had started on the outskirts of Harmony and now the car pushed further out. To the industrial districts.

  Socia’s eyes became trapped, locked down by her Amber Lady. Her hands gripped and held fast.

  “Did you ever care about them?” her Amber Lady said.

  What? Who?

  “When you were a mortal. Did you care about those beneath you?” her Amber Lady said.

  Her eyes were so amber, so mesmerizing. Lips at Socia’s ear, her breath so close.

  The men at Socia’s father’s factory. Had she even thought about them? Her own ambition had always been the priority. Her own sense of being less the force that drove her to become more.

  “Yes,” Socia lied.

  Her Amber Lady’s lips brushed against her cheek.

  And withdrew.

  And there was silence.

  “If you wish to lie. I am fine with it.” Her Amber Lady said.

  “But do it well.”

  “Properly.”

  Socia’s mind jolted at her words. Her body lurched as the car suddenly came to a halt.

  “We’ve arrived at the destination,” her servant said.

  Her hands slipped from Socia.

  The amber sun had set.

  It was cold.

  Night.

  Rose?

  Where are you?

  The men cheered. Hundreds of voices cried out, rose up to the sky, as blood spilled.

  A pit and two men in it. A mortal and a Scion.

  The Amber Lady and Socia stood at the edge, as did many others, but none dared stand too close to them.

  Or to look at them.

  Their eyes would dart occasionally toward them, drawn by what they were – divine.

  But the sound of bones breaking, flesh being torn, it had its own allure.

  A pit of stone sunk into the ground. The depth of two tall men and far bigger than a boxing ring.

  A fist struck the Boxer’s jaw, and it only made it budge a little. He struck back with his bloody fist, and a rib broke.

  But the mortal didn’t scream.

  More strikes fell on the Boxer only to land on his forearms.

  A grin. A blow, both from the Boxer.

  A case of theft: this story is not rightfully on Amazon; if you spot it, report the violation.

  And the mortal was down.

  He had no chance.

  The felled man pushed against the ground, tried to rise, as the referee began to count.

  1… 2… 3…

  His face covered by blood, his eyes swollen shut, the Boxer looking down on him.

  4… 5… 6…

  He remained on the stone, while the Boxer lifted his arms up. Covered in blood, the felled ones. Bare chested, only simple pants on, even his hair shaved.

  No wounds from this battle. No scars from older ones.

  Perfect.

  7… 8… 9…

  Socia’s skin grew hotter as her blood rushed. She was no stranger to violence, not anymore. It could be — intoxicating.

  The smell of blood.

  Seductive.

  Like the Amber Lady next to her. So fixated at the fight below. Her eyes ablaze, her gaze devouring.

  And ignoring Socia.

  “Ten!” the referee said.

  It was the tenth fight they had seen.

  The tenth mortal defeated, but how could it be any other way? They weren’t there to win, only to endure. The longer they lasted, the better the pay.

  This one lasted more than a minute, and was now brought out of the pit, pulled by a rope, a broken thing laid at the feet of a goddess.

  “You honor my father with your Ambition,” the Amber Lady said.

  Her touch healed, but they had all screamed.

  And so did the broken thing.

  Fingers began to sew flesh, to mend wounds, to burn the imperfections away.

  “Defeat is not dishonor, only weakness is,” the Amber Lady said.

  “Do not scream.”

  His mouth sealed by his will yet sounds still escaped it.

  But he would live. Of that Socia was sure.

  He got up with his own strength.

  Received a kiss on his head.

  A cheer from the crowd.

  And then he was sent away to receive his pay.

  Her hand stained by blood touched Socia’s shoulder. It was warm again. The stroke, smooth and slow.

  “I was a little harsh on you, my Socia,” the Amber Lady said.

  Her eyes caught her again.

  Trapped her.

  “But did you ever try like this?”

  “To challenge yourself?”

  “As a mortal?”

  The Boxer had sat on the floor of the hexagon, waiting for his next challenger.

  “No,” Socia said.

  “I was my father’s daughter. I obeyed his wishes. His wants.”

  “As a daughter should.”

  The sun shone before her, but it didn’t blind her anymore.

  “As do you.”

  The Amber Lady’s lips curled into a smile, and she pulled Socia into a hug, wrapping herself around her. A blaze that did not burn was around Socia.

  “You didn’t even lie,” the Amber Lady said.

  She kissed Socia on the cheek. Released her from the embrace but kept one hand in her grip. Her gaze swept around the masses, like the rays of the sun.

  And then the other hand rose up.

  And she whispered.

  “Silence.”

  And so, it was.

  Her will — felt by all. The men. The Boxer.

  Even Socia couldn’t speak.

  So, they listened instead.

  “You have honored me. You have honored my father, your God.”

  The Amber Lady’s grip grew stronger. Socia could feel It around her. How It stirred with every beat from her heart.

  “Such Ambition. Such desire to be stronger.”

  “Better.”

  Her eyes grew wet, her breath faster, her heart stronger.

  And her grip now hurt as fingers dug into Socia’s flesh.

  “You have given me such a gift.”

  Her amber eyes, ablaze and alive, returned to Socia.

  Fell upon Socia as did the words from her lips.

  “Now I gift you.”

  “My Socia.”

  Socia could not hear her own thoughts as the roar of the crowd drowned them out.

  But they could not obscure her sight.

  Her eyes fell on the Boxer.

  The grip gone, her hand free, released from her gravity.

  To enter a pit.

  To fight… him.

  The Boxer’s punch landed on her forearms with such power she had to take a step back.

  A head higher, wider, bigger and stronger.

  And skilled.

  He wasn’t like the brute who had lost his hands, he knew what he was doing.

  Another straight blow she slipped, a hook she dipped under, but almost got caught in the jaw as she did.

  Knuckles met her ribs, dug into her flesh, forced sounds from her mouth.

  Grunts.

  The crowd cheered on her. Chanted her name.

  “Socia! Our Socia!”

  Though some only screamed for blood.

  They circled each other, eyes locked upon one another, two bodies entangled by violence.

  She could smell it. The blood. The sweat.

  She could feel It. The thread between her and her opponent, the ones between them and the crowd. How their affections shifted with the fight.

  A kick cut into her thigh like an axe on a tree. It cut deep, made her leg numb, made them cheer.

  He’s strong.

  He was good. Relentless. And the fire of Ambition burned within his veins, fueled by his heart.

  A combination of punches, a flurry of blows that Socia caught with her guard. More blows, even faster strikes, she evaded with well-placed steps.

  Faster. Hotter. Sloppier.

  A hook broke his jaw. Her fist, hard as steel, too fast to see, and the crowd roared.

  Blood fell on the floor from ripped lips, but he was relentless, unyielding, and his assault continued.

  A shin landed. A rib cracked, and Socia caught his leg, swept the other.

  Stronger. I’ve become stronger.

  Her knee held him down, her punches rained on him, cracked and tore. Wet from blood.

  Better.

  The Boxer exploded, thrashed himself free from her knee, endured her strikes, and struck back.

  Wilder. Fiercer. Ablaze.

  A fist struck true, broke her nose, made her bleed. Blood on her lips. The taste of iron on her tongue.

  The Scion, a beast now. A fire that sought to engulf her.

  A strike cracked another of Socia’s ribs, made her grunt, made her feel… pain. Made him grin, made them cheer.

  Made the Amber Lady laugh. Her voice was a drug Socia was tired of.

  Another blow slipped against her shoulder, made her twist, made her hook land.

  Thud.

  It sent him down, and his face to meet her knee.

  Crack.

  A kick arced and struck like lightning, broke his knee.

  Snap.

  He reeled and stumbled. His flesh mended, his bones they healed. So Socia struck again… and again… and again.

  Faster. Harder. Focused.

  His flesh was pinned against the stone, his back pressed against the wall. Fists struck like thunder, broke bones, hammered flesh, made blood flee to the floor.

  Fed her appetite for victory.

  Her strikes, a blur for mortals, too fast for the Boxer.

  Their voices — worship.

  Her strikes — judgement.

  His eyes.

  His eyes.

  She couldn’t see his eyes. Her fists stopped hitting. A step she took back.

  And the body fell to the ground, leaving a broken bloodied wall behind.

  It was mangled. Bloody.

  Was it a man?

  It breathed. Barely. There was movement. It twitched.

  Why didn’t he heal?

  Her eyes sought. Her ears listened. She tried to feel It.

  Something was wrong.

  Where was the Amber Lady?

  She could heal him. Mend his wounds. Make him whole.

  But there were only men chanting. Her Amber Lady wasn’t among them.

  She had abandoned Socia.

  It jerked. Blood spilled from his mouth.

  She tried to see It in him.

  Deeper.

  What was wrong?

  It was cut. Threads within him tangled, stale, dying.

  She had wounded It. Altered It.

  With her own hands. Her own power.

  She could see it. Smell it.

  The blood.

  The blood she had hungered for.

  It wouldn’t stop flowing.

  His wounds didn’t close; his flesh couldn’t mend.

  But his body made new blood.

  It kept him alive.

  Suffering.

  Her hands hovered above the man, unable to touch him.

  Above him, unable to care for him.

  Her mind, in disarray. A mess like the man below her.

  And the crowd chanted…

  “Socia.”