The following text has been transcribed in an oath of truth by Volda Keely Darkblood of the Darkblood Witch Coven.
My body felt numb and cold, as if I had been in a heavy storm. I froze, just as I had when one broke into the arena during a performance last solstice. My performance. The first and only time I had ever faced a cliftolight.
We had set up camp in the lands of Abdera, on the southern outskirts of Merlanis.
I had been staring at the mirror in front of me for a long time now, acknowledging the glitter around my arms, the brightly-coloured diok and the adorned colourful paint that streaked my face. It was not your regular makeup, but rather a fury of face paint colours making tribal patterns all the way down to my shoulders.
Inhale. Exhale.
Count the beads on the material against your chest. Take notice of the smells around you. Keep calm. Is what I muttered to my subconscious.
I was nervous. This wasn't my first battle in the arena, to say the least, and yet this feeling stuck with me for days to come until I stepped into the arena. I looked into the rusted mirror in front of me. The darkness within the depths of my eyes swirled.
A sudden round of applause was heard behind me followed by squeals of young women, the curtain was pushed back by big hands as the performer stepped inside the dressing room. Red paint smeared half of his defined face and the tribal patterns around his bare chest was now slightly ruined from the arena. Tonight we are honoured by their lord. If we impressthe lord, it means brighter futures for everyone here in the arena. Fala made sure we all knew it for the days to come.
"You're next." Ezra panted as he wiped out some of the paint from his striking face but only seemed to spread it more, and I watched as his blond locks of hair catch onto the crimson red. He smiled slightly, noticing me in my clothes, softly panting from the adrenaline and exertion from his performance. His skin glistened with sweat even though today had been one of the last few days of winter.
"I know," I said in a soft voice, unable to meet his eyes. Rhey instantly slithered up his arm and came into appearance from god knows where. Rosetta stood a couple of feet back of the Marquee, looking fondly at Ezra and scowled when she met my eyes. I ignored her, her feelings for Ezra were clear, yet he never returned it. I could not imagine why; she was absolutely stunning.
Ezra placed a palm on my shoulder, he always knew how I'd felt during times like this. He lent me his support. I loved the arena, I loved fighting, I loved earning my place and proving myself, but things could always go wrong at any second. It was anxiety and yet I felt so incredibly alive doing what I did.
"Go out there, show what you can do, so that others know I did it better." Ezra smirked and leaned against the wooden pillar next to him. I pushed off the chair in an instant as the announcer called the next warrior out. That warrior being me.
I smelt rich and cheap perfumes, I could scent the soft hay that lay scattered about on the floor, softening the ground. The subtle smell of wine lingered, being passed to the dukes and lords who remained seated on the highest level in the arena. One of those lords being the Lord of Abdera, with his dark skin and messy hair, took one look at me, acknowledged my body, looked me once over, and lost interest as he continuedconversing with a stout looking man next to him. I tried not to scowl, feeling judged for being a woman.
Fala sat near the lord, dressed in her usual green, she held an extravagant walking cane in her hand. She looked coldly beautiful. Like a fern among barren land. As always she gave me a firm nod and urged me on. For my act, four targets were laid in front of me. It was all a routine given to me by Fala herself, I could practically do all this with my eyes closed. First, use the fire blades against the targets, then use the blades against different dark creatures and get them to submit. Just as I lifted my blade, ready to call to the fire spirit, the Lord of Abdera finally looked, giving me the courtesy of interest but that was unexpectedly cut off by shrill screams. I whipped around, a young woman had opened the marquee exit curtains to find blood splattered on the floor, and bodies scattering the grassy field of the exit.
The screeches followed after with a guard running through.
"Cliftolights! They've breached the borders! One sighted! Kill on sight! Kill on si—"The guard had been cut off from his warning as a dark spike pierced his throat, the blood shot out in deep red spurts coating his already red uniform with a darker colour, and the spike was swiftly pulled out. The creature had left a trail of dead bodies in its wake, all of the dead bodies had been guards and noble protectors. Screams raged through the room as everyone fought to get onto the higher levels of the arena. The room had gotten colder, goosebumps trailing along my skin. The cliftolight looked directly into my eyes and I could have been hallucinating but it seemed to almost smile, with sharp razor-like teeth along its jaw. Its body long and gangly, taking the form of a height that's much taller than a horse, its dark greasy body thin and arms taking the shape of large piercing spikes.
"Morana, run!"
"Morana, go!"
Fala had shouted first, her eyes darting to me and back to the spectators as she tried to create an exit for the others to leave through, and Ezra had been shouting too, fighting to get through, being held back by Dezimus and Elijah.
I made a turn but a spike was shot in my way, it slashed the material of my tunic. I turned back to the creature and immediately ducked as it made a grab for me. Blood trickled down its throat from all the people it slaughtered. Many had come close to wounding this creature, few with magic could disable it, but this creature, almost demon-like, could not be killed.
A bitter-sweet stench stung my nose and almost got caught in my throat as it made another grab for me. I rolled over to my side and felt my weapons digging into my hips. These were only good for close combat. “Oh what a damn fool I am...”I admitted to myself as I swung out my fire blade and called to the fire spirit within. The fire glowed a deep electric blue, mixing in with the aura of the cliftolight. I calmed my frantic movements to take a swing at the creature. I aimed, targeted, and hit its shoulder, if that was even a shoulder. It seemed to work because the creature let out an earth-shattering shriek, it was difficult to resist the urge to not cover my ears. The fire on the cliftolight grew more as I compelled it to burn brighter, harsher.
It was then that I heard the voice... Cold, sharp and menacing. I turned around frantically looking for the voice, but the voice had been in my head. IT spoke to me in my head. I must have been going mad.
"Morana." It crooned. I immediately took out another blade from my hip, aimed and swung.
The blade hit its hip, another shrill cry. It was anguished. The fire attached to the body grew more and its steps sloweddown. I reached for the other fire blades on my hip, taking them all out at once, but in a quick sharp swipe, a huge spike sent me sprawling with force against the hard concrete wall that separated the arena seats from the battle quarters, which were meant to keep spectators safe from the performances.
My breath had been knocked out of me as I hazily touched my forehead, only to see red staining my hand, it had not been from the red paint. My spine and shoulder blades ached at the impact, I searched aimlessly for my blades with a blurry vision.
The cliftolight came closer. I spotted one of my blades near its feet and without thinking twice I dove for it. There was no practical plan or training that could have prepared me for any of this, it was just the natural instinct of defending. I was going to be killed. I was going to die. And couldn’t help but think...
I deserved it.
The cliftolight picked me up by my throat. I gasped. No longer hearing the screams of the people who watched and called out to me. I clawed its hold on me with one hand and hissed at the fumes that had been burning the cliftolights flesh, I lost control of my own fire, as it began to also envelope me.
I swung at the cliftolight with my other hand, thankful it had not seen me grab the fire blade in time. I aimed to push it through its head, but it swiftly caught my wrist, squeezing hard. I cried out at the sudden crushing pain.
"Morana... shadows follow you. Darkness follows. Just like me, just like me," it spoke, saying the words I dreaded most. I began screaming. I could not stop. I dropped the blade in my right hand, it seemed as if time itself had slowed down, it was my last resort to survive, and so I immediately caught it with my left hand that I had lowered and drove it deeply into its stomach, slashing and stabbing harder and harder.
