I don’t understand. I saw his body.
“He wants us to return.”
I tremble, ignoring the urge to slap my hands over my ears. “Who?” I ask aloud.
No reply. I follow that icy presence, until I’m almost at the imperius quarters, staring at a blank wall. I don’t allow myself to hesitate. With a deep breath, I press my hand against the wall, and it swings open, revealing a dimly lit corridor.
I step into the corridor, and the door swings shut behind me. Theputrid scent of decay fills my nostrils, and I follow the corridor, taking a staircase down as the cloying reek grows stronger. I breathe through my mouth, pushing open the door at the bottom of the staircase.
Seven tables, each holding a body. Somehow, I’ve stumbled upon the morgue. But there are no other gladians here—no one who has died in the arena. These are all the people who have turned up dead in the ludus.
Three of them were discovered before I arrived, while the other gladians had already begun training. Hundreds of people could have had the opportunity to kill them—maybe more, depending on how many people know about the hidden tunnels.
I take a step closer and valiantly suppress another dry heave. The scent is a bitter, metallic tang, undercut by a faint sour note and a hint of smokiness. There’s a dampness to the air, like mold, tinged with the faintest hint of rot held in stasis. The sickly undertone fills the back of my throat.
Whoever used their power to halt the decay has also trapped the scent, magnifying it until the room is saturated with the essence of death.
Gradon is the closest, and I can’t help but remember his easy grin. Now, his expression is twisted into a grimace.
“He wants us to return.”
“Help me.”
I force myself to take another step closer. My skin begins to tingle, my pulse races, and an inescapable sense of doom slides through my gut.
As one, all the bodies open their eyes.
And they glow a bright, poisonous green.
My sword is in my hand before I’m aware I moved, and I bend my knees, staying light on my feet as something cold slithers down my spine.
This is why you don’t sacrifice people to the god of ruin.
I survey my path to the door. Five steps.
The bodies don’t move. But their eyes continue to glow that eerie green.
My head spins dizzily, and I stare at Gradon’s corpse.Please tell me he’s not in there. Please tell me he’s moved on to the afterlife.
“He wants us to return.”
“Gradon?” My voice is small.
A malevolent presence suddenly fills the room, until I’m forced to my knees as the world spins dizzily around me.
“Mine.”
This is a new voice. A voice that sounds like a thousand screams all at once. I cringe, slamming my hands against my ears.
No. Whatever …whoever this voice belongs to—and I have a sneaky suspicion it’s the worst possible scenario—they don’t get to trap these people in their bodies. These people have suffered enough.
I’d like to say it’s courage that shoves me to my feet. In reality, it’s indignance. It’s the unfairness of this situation, this empire, thislife.
And, if I’m honest, it’s pure impulsivity.
“No,” I hiss back, slamming my hand on Gradon’s face.“Go, Gradon. Be free.”
I push every drop of my will into my command, picturing whatever part is left of him breaking free of the corpse before me and going somewhere new. Somewhere peaceful.
