Piper Cross, an undercover spy, must relive her past as a child gladiator in order to bring the underground arena to justice.
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Growing up gladiator is brutal. The cells are cramped...
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I was going to be eaten alive.
Not the grandest way to go, I mused as the chimaeras blocked out the mage lights like a swarm of locusts. My arms were pinned to the ground, my knives useless in their sheaths. I was never meant to win this fight, but I struggled until the very end, biting chunks out of the chimaeras and popping my shoulders from their sockets to avoid killing blows. I'd never been good at giving in.
Wet snouts pressed against my body, snuffling and prodding. Sandpaper tongues lapped at the salt of my sweat, and spiny teeth scraped it off my skin — but never plunged or pierced.
On Isaac's command, the chimaeras turned on their own, devouring each other. A cross between a monkey and a piranha slotted a rib cage into my hair like some kind of tiara, gnashing its teeth before gnawing off its own arm. Gore splattered my corset, disturbingly warm, and I twisted through the writhing mass of self-destructing monsters, piling on top of each other like they were tackling each other for a football.
Mighty talons sank into my shoulders when I emerged into the light, scraping bone. I locked the pain down in my body but an involuntary cry slipped through the bars, as the sharp, punching sensation gave way to a teeth-grinding ache that reverberated through my entire skeleton. Before I could rip the talons out, the enormous vulture climbed into the air, taking me with it. I fought the urge to kick my legs and make it worse, enduring the sickening sway as it climbed and spiralled, flattening it's body against my back so that I looked as though I was flapping my own wings.
"And so I stole the life of my love and dragged her into my realm," Isaac said, continuing on with the story. He looked like a speck from up here, albeit a proud one, leaning on the bident which had miraculously returned to his hand. "From the depths of the Underworld I raised her up to be my everlasting Queen, my one bright spot amidst the darkness. For the first time in millenia, my sightless realm bore colour and light, as she remade it in her image."
His voice carried unnaturally well, almost tricking my body into a false sense of security through the suggestion of its proximity to the ground. Instead I forced myself to focus, not only on ways to land while protecting my head, but on the VIP balcony where the wealthiest shadow denizens sat. Every single one of their masked faces was turned up in rapture, from the battle mages no longer standing at attention to the Golden One on her throne of pillows.
Even Corrine Cross's.
My mouth ran dry. The blood seeping from my shoulders ran cold.
Her form was unmistakable, and the lion's mask was so closely moulded to her skin that it gave everything away, including the vicious slant of her calculating glare. Stationed by the Golden One's chaise, she was dressed in the same black and gold as the other battle mages standing at attention, but her illustrious cloak and butterfly broach left no illusions as to her station.
"And thus ends the first act," Isaac boomed, taking a flourishing bow. "Will you invite us back for another?"
The crowd went wild. It was entertainment the likes of which they'd never seen. Isaac's magic had driven the heartless bastards to feel something for the first time in years; they'd moved well beyond the edge of their seats to catch a glimpse of the next scene. It was a wonder they weren't toppling off the wall like the rats they were.
