Brick stalls encircled the square—a god of nature selling colorful bouquets, paper crafts, artwork, and jewelry. Children swarmed a stand serving ice cream topped with fruits. Goddesses of music sang atop the platform in front of the ancient yew, its roots exposed and curling into the pavement like worms.
Acacius continued straight ahead, passing the open doors of coffee shops and antique collectors with customers pouring in and out.
The entrancing notes of the music and voices dwindled as he made his way to the end of the square and entered the Drefan district.
The streets opened. Deities loitered outside of the establishments. Pinpricks of whirling tendrils snaked by as others teleported in between the crowd. This sector of the city was a constant disarray of noise and the sharp, pungent scent of alcohol, braided with smoke. Drefan district was known for housing nefarious entertainment.
Acacius slipped through the door with a crimson flower encrusted on the black glass.
Salon de la Rose Rouge.
Everywhere he looked were sleek marble surfaces and red roses climbing their pillars. Glasses clinked behind the bar. The tables cluttered with occupants in formal attire swirling their wine and smoking rolled paper filled with an assortment ofmythical flora, a drug easily obtainable from the various shops in this district.
Acacius exhaled, annoyed by how much the sophisticated lounge reminded him of his older brother. It was a place where he and Cassius regularly met to catch up. Even though Acacius visited the Land of the Dead nearly every day, he cherished Cassius’s invitation and attention.
Ignoring the echo in his chest, Acacius strolled across the room, stepping into the threshold draped in a blue hue of thick smoke. Velvet tufted furniture lined the walls.
A god was sprawled on one settee, pants undone, his head dipped back, expression arranged in one of pleasure with a goddess snuggled into his side. She nibbled on his neck while another god worked between his legs.
On the sofa across from them was a naked goddess propped on her hands and knees, one god slipping into her mouth, another two taking her from behind. Their moans sang under the sultry jazz tune playing over the speakers.
The salacious acts were a regular form of revelry for deities, regardless of the opulence.
Acacius slipped through the back door and took the staircase down into the basement, leaving behind the quiet, erotic atmosphere.
The first time Cassius dragged him toRose Rouge, Acacius sat stiffly and complained the entire time about the clean, posh environment. It was beyond him why Cassius ever thought he would indulge in such a pristine place, despite its arousing festivities.
However, an hour or so later, Cassius downed his whiskey and loosened the tie around his neck, and then he escorted Acacius underground, revealing the basement’s grand secret.
While tasteful and elegant above ground, they operated a breeding of bedlam underneath.
The Pit was just as Acacius remembered. Glaring white lights hung over a deep, hollow bowl. Hundreds of bodies filled the area that surrounded the ring, jumping and swinging their arms in energetic cheers.
“Don’t let her win again!” someone called out.
Acacius stalked along the back row. From here, he had an unobstructed view of the two deities fighting within the dried basin.
“Fucking. Take. Her. Down!” another shouted.
Acacius crossed his arms and leaned against the wall, recalling all the times he stood in this very spot with Cassius, his brother observing with his hands in his pockets, pretending to be content watching a scene so disorderly.
Acacius pushed down the nostalgia and closely watched the High Goddess in the ring. Her dark strands were pulled back behind her shoulders, leaving wavy bangs to frame her face. She wore a low-cut body suit tucked into black combat pants. Two slits exposed the skin of her hips above her waistband. A silver body chain hung between her breasts, inciting gazes to their plump shape. Long black gloves covered her drawn up fists, the material stopping halfway down her forearms.
The High Goddess’s biceps were toned, adorned by more silver jewelry, and the core of her abdomen flexed as she ground into a solid stance. She held herself with a clear strength, eyeing the stocky god hopping around in front of her with a predatory arrogance. He was bare-chested and broad, his muscles like cords rippling in the backs of his shoulders as he beat on his pecs, egging on the vociferous crowd.
Acacius relished the noise, the rambunctious energy, all vibrating through the soles of his boots. He smirked to himself, anticipation burning in his stomach.
A bell chimed, and the crowd burst into a loud cheer.
Acacius’s gaze jumped back to the brawl as the god stepped forward with an arm extended, his fist shooting toward his target.
The High Goddess swerved, hooked her arm, and plunged her knuckles into the god’s nose. The delayed, harshcrackin his face reverberated like slow-motion shattered glass, and the stout god flew backward.
He smashed into the wall of the ring. The impact rippled through the stone, trembling up Acacius’s shins. Like a pancake, the god peeled forward and fell face-first onto the ground.
The bell sounded again.
“Match over!” a voice announced through the speakers.
