Clara was thrown off the ground. She slammed into a wall. A rush of panic welled in her. Her head throbbed from the impact, streaks of colors blurring her vision. She whipped her arm up, aiming her flashlight at the shadows.

The beast flew at her, tongue bursting out of its bloodied mouth. She swung the scimitar in a curve, slitting its throat. It coughed, hands clawing at its neck before collapsing in a heap. She waited for the dizziness to pass.

When she was ready, she rushed to the obelisk. There was a deafening bang somewhere in the coliseum. A pillar had been broken.

She gave her own obelisk a kick. “You’ve no idea how much trouble you’ve put me through!”

It really did look like a piece of the night sky. There were sigils carved from the top to the bottom. It wasn’t just the blackstone draining aether from the surroundings. The sigils must have worked in conjunction with it.

Giving the pillar another kick, she put the flashlight between her teeth. She removed the flap from the disc bomb, slapped it on the blackstone and pressed the button with an immense sense of satisfaction.

The bomb ticked like a time clock. She spun, running as far away from the obelisk as she could. Five seconds away. Four seconds away. Three seconds away.

“If I die here,” Clara said, swinging her blade as if to strike an invisible enemy. “It’s all your fault, Naaji!”

The obelisk exploded in a shower of stones. She paused to catch a breath, safe from the falling rocks. There was a growl in the shadows somewhere to her left and before she could move, a rabid creature lunged at her.  

It bit her leg, setting her skin on fire. Clara toppled over to the ground. The pain was unbearable. It robbed her of the scream in her throat, of the strength in her limbs. The scimitar clattered to the floor, landing between two seats. The torch rolled just out of reach, bouncing the light in front of her. It showed her what she wasn’t supposed to look at.

Her leg was bent at an unnatural angle, a pale bone visible from flaps of shredded skin. The beast slurped at the crimson pool and the tattered fabric of her trousers.

A white haze blinded her. Tears stung her eyes. She did not let them fall. She’d sworn not to cry, not ever since her mother had passed away. Reaching for Rai’s gun, she took aim at the beast, right between its eyes. The gun flashed and a bang resonated. The beast thudded on the floor.

Pure agony knifed at her nerves, poking and skewering her leg. She lay there for some time, blinking at the shadows, breathing through clenched teeth.

"Are you mocking me, Naaji?" she said,an edge of bitterness to her voice.   

How utterly foolish she was. She was speaking to a dead man, blaming him for her own actions. She needed to move. Her blood would attract the other beasts. Gathering the little strength she was left with, she picked up the flashlight and crawled towards the seat in search of the scimitar. She found it lying amidst a pile of bones.

Clara stabbed the scimitar on the ground, using it to push herself to her knees. Struggling to breathe, she mapped out a path in her mind.

She had a goal: to reach the arena past the walls. She would be safe there. She tricked her mind into believing that flagrant lie, that false hope. Slowly, Clara stood on one leg. She staggered forward, dragging her broken leg, leaving a wet trail behind her.

She made it across three tiers before tripping on the ground. Dust particles nibbled at her face. She forced herself to sit. Resting her pounding head against the side of a seat, she raised her good leg, bending it at the knee.  

The ground shook as another pillar crumbled. Rai roared in the distance. His voice was almost unrecognizable. More banging noises echoed. Was he pounding his fists into the obelisks?

She dropped the scimitar next to her. Someone was yelling her name. She glanced at the approaching light.

“Clara!”

Tamer leaned over her, golden eyes wide with worry, brow crimpled in dread. He stared at her leg and expelled a breath.

 “It’s not that awful,” she said.

“It’s not?” His face had gone pale.

She was afraid of looking at her leg, afraid of seeing what was left of it. So she didn’t look. “Need to get over the walls.”

“Clara…”

 “The walls…need to—”

“No, Clara. You need to stay still.” Tamer held her shoulders and lifted her chin. She refused to meet his gaze. Instead, she looked at a spot over his shoulder.

“I’m sorry.” He brushed the sticky strands of hair out of her forehead.  “I should have come with you.”

Why was he apologizing? It wasn’t his fault. The creature had come out of nowhere and taken a chunk of her leg with it. She’d made sure it had paid for it with its life.

“I’m sorry,” he repeated.

She clutched his white shirt, felt the rips and holes made by claws, and touched the wetness of blood. Gently, she pressed her fingers on the stains on his ribs. Tamer’s jaw tightened. He removed her hand from his shirt.

Clara opened her mouth to tell him he didn’t have to take care of her. He needed help too.  

“Don’t speak.” He squeezed her hand then took the gun out of her pocket. “Stay here.”

She followed the path of his boots. There was a loud crack, a pained cry, a strangled growl. The beam of light flashed before her eyes. One beast fell, streams of a sticky substance oozing out of the hole on its chest. It stared at her, mouth open, a filthy hand stretched towards her, knobby fingers gripping empty air.

In that moment,—in that split of a second—the angles of its face, the outlines of its jaws, and the groove of its cheeks reminded her of a human once beautiful and whole. Then is shuddered and the hollowness of its eyes turned misty.

The coliseum teetered. The scent of copper and rust was sickening. Clara screw her eyes shut. She licked her parched lips. She was thirsty and tired and sleepy. She slid down lower, her back close to the ground.

Footsteps stopped beside her. A warm hand brushed her cheek. Threads of darkness weaved around her.

Can you hear me?

She felt weightless, the pain all but gone. The darkness parted and from the gaps, floating images materialized.

Eryx! Eryx!

Brilliant light dazzled her eyes. She was sitting in a field of grass. There were patches of daisies riding a breeze. Above, the blue sky stretched to the horizon.

Over here!

The bright sunlight, the blue sky, the white flowers…they all seemed familiar to her. There should have been a horse too. There, she heard it: the high-pitched neigh from Benji as a servant guided it away.

Yes, now!

A figure towered over her. She looked up at a lovely face, at the crown of red hair haloed by the sun.

“Mother.”

Her mother touched her hand—the one bruised at the elbow because she’d fallen off the horse—and drew her to her arms. It’s all right. It’s all right. It’s all right, her mother told her. Tears streamed down Clara’s cheeks. She’d promised not to cry. She’d promised. But this wasn’t herself. Here, she was so small, a six-year old child.

The images vanished. The voices faded. She was in a desert now. The sky was black and moonless. The sand was white and pure like fallen slow. There were dunes, dozens of them, all made of crystal.

A whirl of mist drifted to her, spinning and crackling. It seemed to emit energy. She tried to grab it but the mist twirled away from her fingers. There was a presence in it, one that was ancient and powerful. It became heavy, circling her but not quite touching her.

 “It’s you,” she said. “Naaji’s entity.”

One tendril swept the sand at her feet. Lines became shapes, shapes became symbols. Circles and triangles. Stars and spirals.

She knelt down. “I don’t understand.”

They morphed to letters and words, numbers and codes. They dribbled like molten wax. She could not read them. Her eyes ached and watered.

“Tell me,” she said. “What do they mean?”

Two ghostly hands touched her head, burning hot. A voice spoke in her mind, a terrible wail like a thousand nails scratching at glass. Clara pressed her palms to her ears. White light poured out of the mist. It slithered into her, scorching her skin.

She screamed. The voice spoke of light and shadows, of Naaji and Afreet. Streams of light lapped at her body. She was burning, melting, becoming ash and yet her body was intact. Pain scraped at her.

“Please, stop it!”

It told her about the seals and the ghilan, the beginning and the end. The light burned brighter, poisoning her, destroying her. She begged it to stop. To silence the truth. To end the pain.

The darkness came. She did not resist it.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Sorry for the long wait. I've been struggling to get over an awful bout of writer's block. On a good note (or a bad note if you don't want it to end), there are only a few chapters left! I hope you'll continue to support the book until the very end. Every vote, every comment is much appreciated :)