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The thick metallic doors slid open, revealing the entrance to the pit.
The roar of the audience, ever eager for entertainment, reached our ears.
It was a sound I knew all too well — a mix of bloodlust and excitement, cheering for victory or defeat.
Arctook stepped forward, pausing briefly to offer a respectful bow.
Then, with newfound confidence, he marched into the pit, ready to face whatever challenge awaited him.
I stood there for a moment, taking in the ambiance, the raw energy of the pit, the weight of choices and paths chosen.
Arctook had opted for the pits, seeking honor and redemption in combat.
Others, like myself, sought peace in other ways.
But in this prison, there was no judgment.
Every inmate had to find their own path, their own salvation.
The roar of the audience grew louder, echoing through the chamber and vibrating through my being.
That sound, though familiar, always brought back memories of battles fought and challenges overcome.
For a fleeting moment, I felt the itch, the pull of the pits, but I shook it off.
I had made my choice long ago.
I had my reasons.
And as much as the sound called out to me, promising glory and honor, it also whispered tales of loss and pain.
And so, with a final lingering gaze at the entrance to the pit, I turned and walked away, leaving behind the intoxicating sound and the memories it stirred.
* * *
The stands were packed with inmates, each one more ferocious and eager for victory than the next.
But I was not interested in the battles, not truly.
I was anxious about what came after: The Prize.
I tried to suppress the feeling, but jealousy bubbled beneath my scales.
The very thought of Violet being Claimed by another, touched by another… it was maddening.
I felt a violent surge of protectiveness, an emotion I hadn’t encountered so intensely before.
My attention shifted to Arctook as he met his opponent in the middle of the pit, gleaming blades in hand.
He had made it to the final and I couldn’t be more proud.
I had trained him, shared the teachings of my ancestors, watched him grow from a volatile fighter into a disciplined warrior.
I felt a sense of pride as he moved with grace and precision, anticipating his opponent’s every move.
The crowd’s cheer grew louder with each parry and dodge.
They were loving this fight.
