Shadow Princess

Chapter Twenty-Two: A Silent Reminder

Julius wakes up, his head spinning, and his body numb. He aches in his arms, tension as they are suspended upwards. His head is hanging, like he is sleeping upright. His head lifts, taking in the dark arena. He yanks on his hands, trying to free them from the restraints. He curses and looks up, seeing his hands pinned to the top. Julius looks around him again, becoming very aware to where he is.

The colosseum is very large, with a dome ceiling. Julius is in the middle, surrounded by balcony seats filled with impatient vampires. Some faces are filled with hatred, others snarling, and a very few that are passive. He searches the whole crowd, the ones he could see, but no friendly face. No one from the Outlaw Village. He breathes in sharply, the tangy sent of earth and dirt filling his senses. His knees are planted on dirt, that rubs his knees raw.

Directly in front of him, is a golden throne. It has aged with time, so it looks bronze and rusted. His father sits there, with his legs crossing over one another. His left arms dangling off the arm in a lazy position. Torches line the arena, lighting up the seats as much as possible. The flames flicker off the golden throne, making it look like it is blazing. A smirk crosses his father's face as their eyes meet. The flames flicker through his eyes like a wicked gleam.

His father pushes himself off the throne, letting his cape flow around him. He wore a black suit, with a white tie. His golden crown winks upon his head. Julius bares his teeth in a silent snarl. Drugged and tied up like a traitor. His father is playing by his own rules, no matter his own kin.

"Since our entertainment has awoke, time to begin," the king bellows, his voice echoing through the arena. A roar of escaped the crowd, many of them rallying up, "Eighty lashes to our traitor, and he will participate in the End Games."

Julius cranes his neck but couldn't land eyes on who is behind him. A feeling of an ice cube being slipped down his back. He feels eyes tracking down his back. His father turns, his cape like a red flag.

"So, let's begin. As Julius gets each whip, I will count. After I hit eighty, a ten-minute break and healing time will commence before the first End Game trial." He sits back on his throne, his ankles crossing as he leans back. His grey eyes seem to sparkle with excitement as he looks down upon his Heir. The arena seems to shake, as the crumbling columns shudder. Julius bites his lip and looks at the ground, concentrating whatever will he had to not scream.

A shuffle of feet scruff the ground behind him and he tenses. A choked laugh escapes his flogger as he witnesses the tensing. Julius breathes out, relaxing his muscles. A soft sigh as the whip is flexed in front of the crowd, playing with him.

A sharp sound as it slices through the air and strikes his back.

"One."

The crowd roars with approval. Julius feels the stickiness of blood drip down his back. He gasps, the pain flowing through his body. The sound of a crack echoes and he bites his lip to keep quiet.

"Two."

The arena is in an uproar, egging the flogger on as he gets ready to whip again. Julius hangs there, letting his body dangle. The dirt scrapes along his knees and the scent of blood makes his stomach grumble in hunger. The crack of the whip strikes.

"Three."

An hour or so passes, the pain brutal. He couldn't hear his father anymore to know what number he is on. He grits his teeth and waits for another hit. The whip cracks through the air, slicing into him.

"Seventy-two."

The pain is horrible. It is an electric shock that circulates through his body, frying his nerves. His back arches, blood already covering every single inch. His pants are soaked and his arms groan in protests as his body sways. He never lost consciousness. His father is smirking on his throne, his voice never wavering after each strike.