The message is simple.Your gods can’t help you here.
I keep walking. Another mural comes into view ahead of me. It’s somehow even darker themed, and I pause.
The scene depicts Mortuus—the god of ruin. He looms over the vampires, who bare their teeth at him. Mortuus is feared and despised by sigilmarked and vampires alike. It’s one of the few things we have in common.
Eventually, the sound of people talking drifts my way, and the aether lamps glow brighter. I pause at the sign above my head.
Aut neca aut necare.
Either kill or be killed.
Clearly I’m in the right place.
Beneath the sign, a statue of Anoxian looms, his head several feet above my own. Only this time, his perfect face is caught in a look of disdain. Offerings are scattered at the statue’s feet. Coins, blades, a vial of sand—likely from the arena.
I step through the entrance to the living quarters. Somewhere to my right, forks scrape against plates, a booming laugh echoes in the distance, and a woman’s voice spits vicious curses.
Turning left, I slam into a hard, very male chest. I bounce off black armor, and two strong hands reach out to steady me. The owner of those hands goes unnaturally still, and my heart jolts.
Vampire.
His armor covers the backs of his hands, transforming into thick gauntlets that wrap around his forearms, gleaming menacingly in the dim light. His neck is fully covered, stripping away any vulnerability, while his helmet conceals his face, leaving only his mouth exposed. Even his eyes are hidden behind some kind of shield, allowing him to observe unseen while keeping his features obscured.
I’ve never seen anything like this before. It’s as if someone has taken leather armor and infused it with magic, turning it into a material that looks like it could repel almost anything.
The vampire lets out a hiss and his hands release me.
It’s unsettling, staring up into a face that’s nothing but shadows. Eyes show intention. They allow us to understand if someone is about to attack.
But of course, this vampire is likely covering them for that exact reason.
“I’m sorry—”
He stiffens like my voice is pure poison.
“Watch where you’re going.”
His voice is a rough rasp, as if his vocal cords have been damaged somehow. And his words are so cold, so emotionless, I shiver.
“Fuck you too.”
It’s been a long day. Usually, I’m able to clamp down on my poor impulse control. But the last couple of days have simply been too much.
I regret the words instantly, reaching instinctively for my knife.
An armored hand plucks it from its sheath before my hand can even get close. The vampire drops it on the ground between us.
Then he turns and stalks away.
CHAPTER FIVE
The gladian barracks are crammed with bunk beds carved from dark wood, heavy blue woolen blankets folded over each mattress. Wooden cupboards are wedged between each bunk for storage, but the bunks are so close to one another that only one person can walk between them at a time.
Privacy will be nonexistent here.
All but one of the beds are taken—a top bunk near the front of the room. Sighing, I sling my satchel up onto it.
While a top bunk might give me a little extra room if someone attacks in the middle of the night, it’s not ideal. A lower bunk would be easier for escape.
