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Someone was watching me.

I wrenched awake with a sharp inhale, ice filling my lungs.

Night surrounded me, my breath still pumping in and out, while my eyes adjusted to my surroundings. Leaning on the ground with a hand, I slowly stood. My insides felt like heavy lead at what I saw.

Any light of day or mimics of life had been sucked entirely out of the arena. Except for the moon, which cast a bluish hue into the night, just like it had over the Cruscellio's house, when I'd fallen asleep.

I was unconscious.

I stood in the middle of a massive, empty, space at the center of the colosseum, the outlines of the empty stands.

You shouldn't be here. Did Death want me to stop looking for him? My palm pressed against my chest, that phantom sensation of pain a distant thought. Death's corpse had walked right through me, like a ghost.

"His death is not your fault, Alexandru."

I startled at the sound of Malphas' voice, awestricken by the phantom of a memory playing out right on the arena sand. It came to life in a whirl of wind, muted hues of blue color clinging to the air like holograms. Alexandru wore his usual plain tunic, his face filled with sorrow, as he stared blankly into an open grave in the ground. Malphas was walking closer to him from behind, a single flower in his hand.

"Kalace made a choice," Malphas continued, clasping his son on the shoulder. "He exposed himself to the mortals willingly. You cannot save those who do not want to be saved themselves. He wanted to burn."

Alexandru slowly lifted his head at his father's words, his expression unreadable. He shrugged off his Malphas' hand. "You are wrong. Kalace wanted to live to fulfill his father's legacy. Which is why he will come back. "

Malphas looked over at Alexandru for a long moment. "He is dead, Alexandru."

"He used black magic. You saw him holding Remus' heart––"

"I also saw the little remains of his body. He is dead. Move on."

"Move on?" Alexandru stared at his father in disbelief, tears sliding down his face. "How could you be so cold? Kalace is––was not just a trusted friend. He was family!"

"Nobody is a trusted friend to us. Kalace could have exposed us." Malphas twisted the stem of the flower between his fingers. "Senator Cornelius felt satiated with his execution. He now believes Kalace was manipulating him and you with witchery to gain power. Clearly, the aftermath of what happened could have gone either way with that half-brain idiot."

Alexandru said nothing.

"Kalace used his magic to make it look like he was attacking me," Alexandru insisted. "I think he saved me, father. He will come back. If he does not, Mother will bring him back with an animal, like she did for us. And if she will not... then I will."

Malphas' jaw clenched. "You are not gifted, like your mother is. Your abilities are a just a consequence of the magic she used to save you. Not to mention, my demi-god blood activated in your veins, after you..."

Alexandru cleared his throat, straightening himself. "I came back from the dead once. So can he."

"You do not understand what you speak of," Malphas said. "You had a body. You had blood in our veins."

"I must try."

Malphas scoffed. "You are so stubborn."

"I get it from you," Alexandru fired back.

Malphas ran his hand in frustration over his hair. "You know it not the way of life, what your mother did for us. Also, there were other influences involved in the spell she performed. Things a warlock as young as Kalace would not have been able to accomplish on his own."

Alexandru frowned. "What do you mean? What other influences were involved in Mother's spells?"

Malphas did not answer him, ignoring Alexandru's prying. "Everything that made Kalace, Kalace, would change, if you were brought him back. Which, you could not, even if you tried."

"When I came back, I did not change," Alexandru insisted. "I am still aging, too."

"Physically, yes. Though mentally, I often wonder if your decisions are still from your child self, instead of a young man's."

Alexandru scowled. "I am the same," he continued to argue.

"Are you?" Malphas asked. "Because the boy with your mother's heart has never escalated a single fight into a deathmatch. Yesterday, if not for for Kalace's display, you would have killed Remus. All because he took your horse. Do you deny this?"

"Cruentas is not just a horse," Alexandru grated out. "He is family, and Remus stole him and agitated him through conditions he is not used to. It is my responsibility to protect him."

"You should have weighed the consequence of letting Remus get to you. The way he treated Cruenttas has assured he will not be riding great distances anymore but leaping from the arena wall and almost exposing yourself to the mortals is not worth saving an old stallion past its prime. Not when your own life, mine, and your mother's, are at an immediate risk."

"An old stallion past its prime..." Alexandru aggressively wiped at the wetness on his face, shaking his head. "Gods, you always say all the wrong words! Now I am looking into my only friend's grave, imagining where the gravestone will sit for Cruentas!"

"Cease your crying, boy. It is most uncomfortable when you show human emotion."

"Why are you here?" Alexandru demanded. "Just leave, go work on your precious campaign. It is all you ever care about, anyway."

Malphas rubbed the back of neck and sighed. "Listen, Kalace was special. He was kind, and you are right, he was a trusted friend. Let him rest the way he was. The way he was before yesterday."

Alexandru shook his head incredulously, moving away from his father to stand at the side of Kalace's grave.

"I see my words still fall on deaf ears," Malphas said, moving to stand to the opposite side of the grave. "Both of us were an exception, Alexandru. There will be no black magic practicing, not when you are under my roof." His voice had switched into that of an authoritarian. "And you will never, ever mention this conversation to your mother. Do you understand me? Her heart would not be able to bear it."

"But father––"

"I forbid it," Malphas snapped. "Enough, now. It is time to bury Kalace. Trying to bring back the dead is not worth the uncertainty of what may awaken instead."

"Was I worth the uncertainty, Father?"

Malphas' black eyes snapped to his son's, and I could tell he'd lost the whole argument in an instant.

"While I live with you, I will do as you say for Mother's sake," Alexandru said, sounding exhausted as he grabbed an iron tool in the shape of a shovel to begin filling the grave with dirt. "I think you should know the truth, though. The rage in me yesterday was not a consequence of black magic, or because of Remus, or Cruentas. I bet you thought I would say it was from you, but surprise, it was not."

"It was those mortals," Alexandru continued with a stab of the shovel into the dirt, his lip lifting in a slight snarl. "How they all applauded in the stands, cheering while Remus hit Cruentas with a leather whip, laughing while Kalace burned." Emotion drained from his voice, his voice slipping into something callous. "Father, I had the most fearsome thoughts yesterday. And I feel...since they do not terrify me, maybe they should terrify you." He stared unflinching at Malphas for an intense moment, before wiping any remaining trace of grief or anger from his features with his sleeve. "I am so tired. At least help me bury Kalace."

Malphas continued to look at Alexandru in silence. I wondered what he was thinking. Could he feel anything at all without a soul? Malphas dropped the flower in his hand into Kalace's grave and shoveled dirt into the pit.

The scene faded into the night with a cold brush of wind against my face, the arena eerily quiet again. The intensity of that conversation between Malphas and Alexandru lingered with me well after the memory vanished. How Alexandru's instinct to protect his friend and Cruentas exceeded any care he had for his own life. How he was slowly losing his grip, while his father, soulless and power-hungry, kept pushing him harder, while also holding him back.

As I wondered how Kalace had come back to life, I walked aimlessly around the arena, waiting for something significant to happen. It felt like an eternity of nothing happening. I started to get a little afraid I wouldn't wake up.

"Hello?" God, I hated when people did that in horror movies, but it was freezing, standing in the dark, and I was so tired. I gripped the straps of my backpack, rocking back and forth on my feet, heel to toe. "Yoo-hoo! Anybody haunting?"

A loud noise snapped the air behind me, like a flag whipping in the wind. I twirled around fast, but there was nothing there. Nothing except for a gate ahead, where I'd seen the gladiators enter into the arena in Death's memory.

I begrudgingly trudged closer, noticing how small I was compared to the massive entrance. It was intimidating, to say the least. Squinting my eyes, I looked through the square openings between lattice iron bars, my shoulders stiffening. I felt something stare back.

"I'm going to need some extensive therapy after this," I muttered.

A great scrape of metal grated against my eardrums like nails against a chalkboard. The gate slowly lifted, the loud, chaotic groan of it like a starved monster opening its jaws. I stared down the endless black void, feeling as if it were looming closer.

My skin pebbled at the thought that Death was somewhere here with me. I just had to find him.

My fingers trembled as I summon light in my palm for a flashlight. At least I still had my power with me on this journey, it made me feel safe. Wiping at the cold sweat along my hairline with my other hand, I mustered up the courage to slowly edge closer to the gate.

A quiet, uneven thudding in the distance made me stop in my tracks and look around. I put my hand to my chest, where my heart pounded uncontrollably, too fast to have been that noise, and I thought, maybe I was just hearing things. But when I started to walk again, a clear steady drumming picked up and chills raked down my spine.

I looked down at the orb of light hovering in my trembling fingers, before stepping through the darkness of the gateway.

They wanted a monster. 

My head turned to the side in the dark entrance, Death's voice carrying to me in a soft whisper.

My hand shook uncontrollably, the light in my hand flickering. I felt I had to see where this lead. I could feel the memory creeping closer, just beyond my grasp. I trudged forward through the dark space, though I didn't get much further toward the memory, as a dead silence fell upon the tunnels. The hair at the back of my nape lifted, like a warning.

With the awareness of another's silent steps aligned with mine.

I see you, taunted his voice, directly to me this time.

I whirled around to face the empty hallway, my heart exploding in my chest, my breath the only audible sound in the echoing chamber.

Come to me, little mouse...

The words were like silken caress, unarming me. With every step I took, the drum thudded again, the walls vibrating. I nearly leapt out of my skin as more torches lit beside me, then another, and another, until a long passageway with archways into more passageways unfurled. I felt a pulsing in my chest, pulling me toward a doorway as I stepped into a small stone room.

My breath left me in a rush as I felt him step into me from behind. His large, gloved hand skimmed my bare arm, leaving behind a path of shivers, while his other hand slid possessively in front of my stomach, pressing me back against him. When his gloved fingers slowly reached my bare wrist, he lowered my arm and with it the light within my palm.

Such beautiful light... The mesmerizing lull to his voice made my head lean back against him. His lips traced my hairline to my neck, his fangs scraping against the sensitive skin below my ear, as his hand climbed higher on my stomach, until his fingers wrapped in a vice grip around my throat. I think I'll keep it, he hissed.

Suddenly my whole body locked up, his fingers crushing into my neck as reality snapped into focus. I writhed against him with all my might, but his other arm splayed across my middle like steel, a snake holding its prey tighter in place. The room splotched in patches. Shadows, blackness crawling down from the ceiling and slinking toward us both as he slowly, deliberately choked the life from me.

Don't fight me, he purred at my ear. I grit my teeth together, forcing my fingers into tight fists as the shadows grew heavier on my arms, trying to pull my hands down at my sides.

Tears pushed forcefully from my eyes as something detonated from out of me, my arms snapping free from the darkness in an explosion of power. He released me at once and I grabbed my own throat as I coughed, gasping for air. I didn't look back to see what had happened to him, I just knew I had to run. Run for my life. I burst into a sprint down the hallway, wheezing as I could feel his strength had injured my windpipe.

The air grew stuffier, stale, my hand lifting to cover my nose as a stench unlike any other permeating the air, making it even harder to breathe. It felt like I was breathing through a straw, that burst of power draining me fast. My head turning side to side as every turn looked the same. I made one quick decision after another, desperately trying to find my way back to the arena.

Black fabric whipped past the archway of the tunnel, Death's dark laughter following me wherever I went.

The drumming returned at full force, like an impending doom, growing louder and louder, matching my every running stride. I could see the staircase from which I came up ahead.

I could feel them standing behind me in the darkness of the corridors, just before the gates opened up to fight.

I came to a halt at the bottom of a stairs, as a phantom of a gladiator descending the stairwell. I thought my heart might explode out of my chest. It was Alexandru, his broken armor hanging off one arm, his chest bare, covered in blood from a gash at the center of his chest. 

And I wondered, did they wait for me to join them and rot in their forgotten bones?

Black intricate lines were crawling out from Alexandru's heart, his hair blackening at the roots. I could see the haunting anguish in his face, like a man who had just lost everything, even himself. As staggered down the rest of the steps, darkness filled his eyes.

Or did they follow me, because they knew I would free them?

When I turned over my shoulder, row after row, stood phantoms of Roman gladiators, bloodied, bruised, beaten, dead. They marched forward toward Alexandru, darkness weaving between their bodies as their feet slammed into the ground.

Alexandru had vanished as I spun and tore hard to escape up the steps. Hands clutched my ankles, my bag, and I screamed as I fell. My palms and knees scraped from the impact. They started to drag me down into their hell, my nails splitting open as I gripped at stone. I somehow managed to free my leg and kicked back at the gladiators, my foot shattering their image like a mirage, allowing me time to lurch up and exit the rest of the stairwell. 

Racing toward the gateway from which I came, I practically dove back into the arena, the nightmarish bluish hues of my surroundings feeling like freedom. I staggered through the sand, my hands, arms, and legs all bleeding from injuries, from scratch marks on my skin.

Fatigue hit me hard, my body gave out from under me from sheer exhaustion, and I collapsed into the sand.

Suddenly the arena detonated with sound, a sharp whistling noise, which made me cover my ears. My attention drew to the middle of the arena. A portal appeared in a whirled reflection, a narrow iris, which expanded, as two hands came through and spread outwards.

My mouth fell open. Ace, my Ace, emerged mid-stride from the portal, purple tendrils of magic dissipating in the air around him. He wore modern, sleek clothing, and his stark white hair fell to his shoulders. He snapped closed a pocket watch in his hand and leaned on his cane, giving the arena a quick once over.

"Ah, memories." A small smirk tilting the one side of Ace's mouth, and he turned his attention to me. "You look like you could use a friend, ma chère."

I stared at Ace in awe, unable to formulate a response.

Arching a brow, Ace walked closer to stand in front of me and reached down. I hesitated before grasping his hand, my knees threatening to give out as he helped me climb to my feet.

"Are you real?" I asked in an unsteady voice.

Ace's expression saddened, his fingers lifting to brush my cheek. "You poor girl, you have been through hell. Of course, I am real." Then he pulled me into a tight hug.Something that I'd felt I'd needed for a long, long time, as I sunk into the embrace. 

Ace pulled back, checking his pocket watch briefly. "We have much to talk about , but we must hurry now. Time moves different here, and the Forsaken can track down my..." Ace didn't finish the rest of the sentence as turned, facing the man standing behind him. "Magic," Ace finished.

I moved to Ace's side, thinking it might be Death here with us, but I realized with dread that I was so wrong. 

It was Caito, Guardian of the Unknown.

My time was up.

FJIWIOEJFIOEWIFOEWIOFEWIOJFW WUT DA FOOK M8

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