When I was a young teenager training to become thetelum, the other competitors and I were left chained in here for hours at a time, waiting until we were brought out to show off our new skills in brutal combat. As we got older, they turned into bouts to the death.
I never lost.
When I was young, I never let anyone see me cry about what they were turning me into—not even Lillian. Over the course of months and years, I grew to love the combat and crave the adrenaline of a good fight. The buzz of death became a siren call. The blood and gore became nothing to me.
This arena made me who I am today. Being down here, knowing I’m about to step into the citadel to face Amadeus again…
My heart begins to pound with unfamiliar strength inside my chest. When I was very young, my so-called “father” terrorized me. He was cold and inhuman. Brutal. Merciless.
Naturally, I admired him.
Before I ever learned about the humans being treated like animals in the Nether, I only knew that I wanted to survive—andto survive, I needed to impress Amadeus. So I trained and fought and killed and turned myself into a monster for him.
Out of all that bloodshed, the most unearthly father-daughter relationship was born. He was proud of me, in his own warped way, and I equally feared and evenrespectedhim.
And then he ripped out my heart.
I suppose it’s about time I returned the favor.
Taking one more breath of putrid nostalgia, I stride past the cells where I used to hear other children and monsters snarling and weeping. I ascend the ancient stairs to the blood-soaked trap door and fling open the wooden door, emerging into the dim light of this world I once called home.
For one split second, all I can see is this colossal arena that I spent so much time in. Rows of concentric audience stands rise up on all sides to leer over the massive blood-stained dirt floor. Multiple tall columns made of bones and skulls rise up, lit at the top with green flames to illuminate this space despite the Nether’s perpetual darkness. On one side of the arena, Amadeus’s ornate balcony looks out—and there, perched at the edge with the best possible view of the gory fights held here, is his throne made of bones.
He’s not sitting in it right now.
In fact, I don’t see the king of the Undead anywhere as I blink out of my reminiscing and finally register the chaos I just stepped into. Human and legacy Reformists, dozens of tangible ghosts, and hundreds of ravens are attacking ghouls, Undead, demons, Nether monsters, and other hellish creatures all around the arena. The sheer volume of the battle is staggering and tells me the fight extends outside this arena, probably all over the citadel. The air is thick with death and electric with the adrenaline of battle.
High in the dim, grayish sky of the Nether, three golden dragons soar past overhead. One of them lets loose a spine-tingling roar before breathing down blinding royal blue fire somewhere outside the arena. Instinctively, I know that one is mine. Seeing my dragon in action and not feral puts a smile on my face. I withdraw both Pierce and Cuttrina, my blood already pumping with the excitement of combat.
Barely ten seconds into this battle, I roll out of the way of a massive, lumbering ghoul and simultaneously slice across the tendons in the backs of its ankles. It falls with a garbled cry, crushing an enemy incubus on the way down.
Maven. Fucking gods, I can finally see you,Everett says, his voice pure relief.
I see a blast of ice streak through the raging battle somewhere near the top of the arena, freezing enemies in a wave. My gaze locks onto the white-haired elemental who is quickly making his way to me. A changeling that looks just like me is sticking to his side, defending every attack that comes their way as it holds a simple dagger.
She’s on the battlefield? Fuck yes,Baelfire cheers through the bond.My mate’s about to take names and kick some Nether ass.
As I dodge the magical attack of a lich several paces away, I still can’t help smiling—becausegods,I love hearing their voices in my head again.
As the lich calls another spell to its skeletal hands, one of the ghosts I made tangible passes through it. The lich shrieks and collapses as if it’s choking, only to get stampeded over by a group of enemy Undead racing toward me.
Rolling my shoulders back, I let my instincts and training kick in as I take on the Undead. I dodge, dip, slash, and dismember until pieces of the living dead are all over. Just as I turn to face the last one, it gets frozen solid.
Everett is suddenly at my back, wielding a sword made of nevermelt, but he spares me a soft blue glance. “You took a whileto get up here,” he points out, having to raise his voice over the sounds of shrieks, thuds, wails, and shouts surrounding us.
“Something came up,” I tell him, deciding that the news about Heidi can wait until we’re not surrounded by so much death and violence.
The last thing I need is him getting distracted and injured. I am so fuckingnotgoing through that again.
Spotting a demon wielding an adamantine mace as it races toward us, I fling Pierce as hard as I can so it sinks deep into the monster’s skull.
Still, just the sight of a mace makes me grin. I don’t know when maces went out of style as weapons in the mortal realm, but I intend to bring them back.
The vampire drops dead just behind Everett, who hasn’t even bothered looking over his shoulder as he scans our surroundings for threats to me. Meanwhile, the Fake Maven beside him has begun attacking a nearby banshee with a fervor I actually appreciate.
I catch a glimpse of another lookalike to me racing through the arena in the distance. There are twelve of them, scattered around this battle—and I’m sure wherever Amadeus is, it’s irritating him.
I just need him to appear. Then I’ll put an end to all of this.
