Chapter 2

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The summer sun was relentless as it beat down on the sands of the pit. The arena stands were already teeming with faeries of all kinds. From the small Faefolk such as Pixies, Gnomes, and Fauns, to the larger of the faeries such as Fairies, Nymphs, Witches, and Fae. Even in the shadows of the stands were the darker creatures. Redcaps watched with hungry eyes for blood to be spilled. Ogres and Trolls roared with laughter amongst themselves. Even an occasional Shifter walked between both crowds. Everyone attended the great games, held by King Dyron every equinox.

It would be on the sands that the blood of thieves, murderers, and worse would spill as they were executed for their crimes. It was not just criminals who fought and died on the sands. Debtors, fighting to pay their debts, and would-be warriors, fighting for fame and glory fought on the sands as well. Not all of them left. Even an occasional Human found their way onto the sands. Rarely was Fae blood spilled in the pits, but even they were not safe from the brutal fights.

The crowd roared with excitement as trumpets blared. The King of the Faeries, flanked by guards, walked out onto the balcony of the royal box. His long golden hair was pulled back. His bright blue eyes swept over the crowd. He did not smile or wave, yet the crowd loved him, and he loved them. It was why he sent the worst of their criminals to die this way. Publicly, for all to see and witness. Their cheers grew louder as a female, who looked more like an angel than a Fae, came to stand just behind him. Her silver eyes sparkled with joy as she waved to the crowd with her thin delicate hand. Princess Titania was the epitome of beauty and grace.

Three thrones looked out over the arena. The largest made of pure iron, a metal lethal to all but the strongest of the Fae. It was a show of power greater than any other to stand the presence of the toxic metal, let alone touch it. The King was entirely unfazed by its touch as he took his seat upon the throne.

Princess Titania took her seat beside him on her obsidian throne. The black surface polished so that it shone like glass. Strands of silver and gold thread wove around her long white hair, making it sparkle in the hot midday sun. Loose curls fell around her face. Her light blue silk gown swept across her body and pooled at her feet. Each jewel and bauble she wore only accented Princess Titania's already breathtaking beauty. The throne on the far side of her father sat empty.

The steady rhythm of the war drums echoed through the arena. Each one of them taller than a full-grown Fae male. The sound of the massive drums carried across the rows of people and down below the stands. There, in the labyrinth of tunnels and hallways beneath the arena, warriors and beasts alike prepared to fight. Even in the deepest part, the sound of the crowd roaring could be heard above the sound of the drums as they beat their death song.

Rows of prison cells, each filled with criminals sentenced to death on the sands, lined the underground tunnels. Their lives would be given for the entertainment of the realm, and nothing more. Only the worst of criminals were sentenced to such a death.

There was one group who ruled the pit, warriors that were more at home on the hot sands than anywhere else. The warriors were faeries who trained their whole lives to fight on the sands. Their Queen was the fiercest of them all -- the King's champion. She was blessed with the beauty of an angel and the ruthlessness and wild nature of a beast. Princess Maeve was a force to be reckoned with, and the sands were her domain.

Maeve's dark cloak swept behind her as she passed cage after cage of criminals and debtors. Her obsidian and silver armor gleamed beneath her dark cloak. From behind the bars of one cell, a gnarled hand reached out and grabbed her wrist. In shock and anger, Maeve whirled to the caged female and snarled. She jerked with the strength of a giant, in an attempt to rip her arm free, but the old hag held tight, her black obsidian nails digging into Maeve's skin causing her to pause. Maeve's gleaming silver eyes me the white unseeing eyes staring up at her under a heavy hooded cloak.

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