A Twist of Fate //ON HOLD//

2

          Lucimean stood quietly in the center of the arena, waiting for her next challenger. It had become dark. But people were still watching and waiting contently for something new, and sure enough, something new happened. 
          A small creature stepped out from the darkness. A cat-like demon, with large horns jutting from the top of it’s head, it’s eyes were a bright blazing yellow.
          Lucimean’s gaze met the lesser demon’s. The small creature put it’s hand up, as to show it’s power. Tall flames rose from the tips of the demon’s fingers.
          “So, 'Lucimean', are you ready to be defeated by the Mighty Kester?”
          She only glared at the little demon, letting out a short huff at the question.
          “What? Too afraid to answer?” Kester asked with a scoff. Was he teasing her? “Well, even if you had answered, it wouldn’t matter. You would be dead before you could finish your sentence.”
          The demon laughed at his own response, his pointed tongue slipping out every time he opened his mouth. 
A loud SLASH rang out, and the laughing stopped, and the crowd went silent once again - just like when the wolf-like champion had finally been defeated, but this time there seemed to be an almost anticipation feeling buried deep within the awaiting creatures of the audience. Like they were eager.
          Splat.
          Drip...drip...drip…
          Lucimean gazed down at the 'Mighty Kester’s' small spilled guts, still warm from her blade. Blood pooled out from the open half of the demon’s body, just barely touching the tips of her dark pink boots.

                    ***

          It was cold, very cold, and dreadfully dark. The ground was still stained red, and the pillars still were cracked. It had been seven nights since she had slaughtered Kester with one foul slash of her sharp blade. 
          She stepped out slowly to the center of the arena, her eyes traveling over every little detail she had yet to observe then looking up at the tall portholes of the accursed ring. All she wanted was to be on the other side of those stone walls. To be free from the arena, and all it’s horrid monsters- from the crowd to the challengers, they were all the same. She wanted nothing more than to escape, to see the outside world just out of her reach, to get out of the rotting hell-hole in the ground she was stuck in.
          The rusty chain of her weapon rattled, she held it tightly. The Pyhruswhip, a weapon which was made by the oldest tribe of bird people, the Ravengers. Ravenger’s were the most developed tribe, having made the first detailed structures and weapons. Weapons like the Pyhruswhip. The Pyhruswhip could be used as a grapple hook as well as a cutting tool, the ancient tribe had made this tool simply for the reason that, as they developed, they had lost their wings and needed something to get from place to place quickly.
          The grapple mechanism in Lucimean’s Pyhruswhip was a bit stiff and rusty, but it could still work. The long chain was firmly attached to a small leather panel with two buttons on it, one red and the other blue.
She tossed the chain up towards the portholes of the coliseum, wrapping it around a column loosely. Carefully she pressed the blue button and the chain retracted on itself, letting her jump up to the tall portholes. Her cloak flowed as she flew through the air up to the seating rows of the old coliseum. Her heeled boots landed steadily on the edge of a porthole sill. 
          A few small stones and pieces of concrete fell as her feet touched the cold sill, hitting the ground far below with a quiet thud. Lucimean gazed down at the ground, she was so close to a whole other side of her life. Freedom was at the tips of her fingers.
        
          The sounds of a rusty grapple echoed out throughout the city, and the blurry silhouette of a person using that grapple to swing through the air could be seen.