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The light of the dying sun painted the alabaster walls of the colosseum in splashes of scarlet. Blood was dripping from the tall, looming structures. Nobody’s blood. Drift’s blood. It was accented in the glittering light overhead, droplets of red splashing down upon the harsh, marble floor.
Scott blinked and the blood was gone. Hues of orange, pink, and yellow filtered in through the white columns, golden light streaming a path ahead. A path right towards the long drop that led into the arena.
“Scott?”
Cleo. Scott glanced over, the all too familiar mask of polite confusion overtaking his face.
“Cleo!” he exclaimed, his lips tugging into a disarming smile. “How are you?”
The raise of Cleo’s brows gave him a small inkling that she wasn’t convinced by his act. Strange. Most everybody had fallen for it hook line and sinker.
Not Cleo.
Never Cleo.
…What?
“I’m fine,” she answered briskly, sending a quick glance over her shoulder behind her. “Look, we need to solidify who we’re going to vote for.”
Scott looked past Cleo to where Abolish and Nikos were standing, their figures outlined in the golden light. He could hear Nikos’ loud, boisterous laugh clear as day even from the distance between them.
“I need to talk to Shelby.” He realized it as he spoke—he had missed his chance to learn what information Shelby had gathered. He had lost his head in the clouds and now they didn’t know what side Shelby was on and who to vote for.
Damn it, Scott, get it together.
Ever since he had been killed by that minotaur in the maze, something hadn’t been right with him. He was at least self aware enough to realize this. Now to do something about it before it destroyed him.
Cleo shook her head, mouth straightening into a rigid line. “It’s too late for that. We’re voting any second now.”
Scott felt his teeth clench, felt his jaw fall off its hinges and crash to the ground in a messy heap of blood and bone.
Irritation ran its course in his veins, settling—as always—right directly on top of his chest. His diaphragm refused to contract. He could not breathe.
The rich ringing of a bell with the same cadence as one to announce a passing filled his ears and his forearm gave a sharp stab of pain.
Cleo was gone. Drift stood close by, the cold lanterns floating overhead giving her skin the pale glow of death.
Her blood began to seep down the columns once more.
Scott brought his forearm up to his face, eyes narrowing at the options etched into his skin. Who was he going to vote for? Apo? One of the bridge people? Nikos, even?
He didn’t realize he had made his choice until the ink disappeared from his arm. He blinked, staring at what little remnants of his vote remained: The slight pink hue that his forearm had adapted from the spontaneous tattoo. The guilt at sentencing one of his fellow champions to death.
Nobody’s voice drifted from up ahead, near the precipice of the stands. Scott looked up and felt a droplet of Artemis’ champion’s blood hit one of his exposed shoulders. Cleo stood across from him, arms crossed and face revealing nothing.
“So, who’d you end up voting for?” Drift asked, and Scott glanced over as she picked her way closer to him through the stairs.
Scott shrugged, offering her an airy smile. “Apo and Sausage,” he lied. “Apo was the obvious choice and it’d be best if we could pit her against one of her allies.”
Drift nodded, eyes widening. “I voted for Apo too. Apo and Owen. Like you mentioned earlier, we really need to take down that giant group.”
“Team meeting!”
Scott glanced over at Cleo and Nobody, frowning slightly. Cleo was ushering Abolish and Nikos over to their general area, and Martyn gestured for Scott and Drift to come down to them.
Unease coiled in Scott’s chest.
Breath was something of the past.
“There can’t be much time before the votes are revealed,” Drift said as they climbed down the stairs, her voice adapting a nervous tone. “Whatever Cleo wants to talk about, it’ll be too late.”
They reached the others and Scott couldn’t find the energy to work up a response, instead turning his full attention to Shelby when she began to talk.
“Apo’s using her immunity token.”
A hushed silence fell upon the gathered champions, which was promptly broken by a shrug and Abolish’s unconcerned voice.
“Well, we already knew that would happen. There was no way she wasn’t going to use it when everyone’s out to get her.” He then sent a glance around, uncertainty marring the usual indifference in his gaze. “Right?”
“Right,” Scott agreed, meeting his eyes. It was embarrassingly hard to tear his eyes away from Abolish’s. They were just so pretty.
Shelby shook her head. “Not everyone. The Featherholders would never vote for one of their own.”
Scott ignored the irritation curling in his chest at him being wrong. He hated being wrong. He had half the mind to argue his case but Cleo beat him to it.
“Funny you should mention that,” Cleo said, eyes narrowing sharply on Shelby. “You were hanging around those bridge dwellers for an awfully long time.”
Shelby stared at her, mouth agape but no words issuing from her lips. “I—”
Huge golden words in a sprawling font appeared in front of Scott’s face, momentarily halting the soon to be argument between Cleo and Shelby.
Apokuna used an immunity blessing.
Well, damn.
Shelby threw her hands up. “See! I tried to warn you!”
“See,” Martyn snickered, then sent a glance around, mouth straightening into a rigid line. “Cause she can’t see—you know what, just forget it.”
“Your warning was a little late!” Cleo growled. “Couldn’t you have—I dunno—told us this before everyone voted for her!?”
“I’m sorry for trying to help!”
In replacement of the declaration of immunity, a variety of people’s faces began to shuffle through Scott’s vision. He saw his in the mix, standing out amidst the others with his cotton white hair. Now that he noticed, his face seemed to be there quite a lot.
He didn’t feel good about that one bit.
The flashing faces began to decrease in speed, creeping by until they finally settled on Nikos. His name briefly flashed in front of Scott’s eyes beneath the row of faces in white this time.
“Well,” Nobody said. “No surprise there, really.”
Nikos’ laugh was rapacious. “Finally! A challenge!”
The heads began to flash by again, Nikos’ face gone from the pool. There seemed to be considerably less people without the tally of his votes.
The one Scott really noticed was Abolish. At one point there were four different Abolish faces in front of him and dread grappled with the unease crushing his chest. Once more, the faces began to slow until they came to a crawl. It landed on Abolish, stopping dead.
Scott was about to open his mouth to say something to Abolish, before the name suddenly changed and a new face was in the center.
His face.
Oh, Aeolus. No.
A dead silence hung over the group like a heavy veil. Slowly, Scott raised his gaze to meet Nikos’, to find that Nikos already had his dark eyes trained on him.
He said nothing. No boisterous remark, no welcome of a challenge.
Because Scott wasn’t a challenge.
This wasn’t a fight. This was an execution. And everyone there would be witness to it.
A hand on his shoulder. He shrugged it off, Abolish’ warm touch turning into hot iron.
He didn’t break eye contact with the champion of Zeus. He just stared, searching for the subtle hint of… something. Anything. The tenseness of his jaw, the way his shoulders were pulled taut. The strange look reflected in his eyes. Something Scott had never seen in a man such as him.
Unease.
Uncertainty.
Fear.
It made Scott’s heart stop beating, made the breath catch in his throat and his lungs retract into his ribs. He swallowed drily, a metallic taste on his tongue.
A steely expression solidified over Nikos face and gone was the brief, passing moment of vulnerability. Like it had never happened.
Had it happened? Or was Scott simply going mad? His life dissolving into one big play where the characters revealed those emotions to an enraptured audience. Where the two allies would have to fight to death for the entertainment of the malevolent gods watching overhead and slowly break apart afterward.
Where the two lovers were doomed for failure in every sense of the word.
And then that dark gaze was staring at him from across the arena.
Scott didn’t even react to the shift in locations. Nikos eyes were impossibly grounding.
Shouts of encouragement rained down upon both of them, hitting Scott with the force of a truck. They slammed into his shoulders, cut deep into his ribs, shattered all the bones in his body. His knees threatened to buckle under the weight of the pressure of those spectating above, under the weight of Aeolus’ expectant eyes trained carefully upon their champion.
Nikos stood bravely, as usual, amidst the meteorites of expectations crashing to the ground.
Scott sucked in a breath.
His chest expanded.
His lungs gave a grateful sigh of relief.
What was he doing? He couldn’t be acting like this. He couldn’t be this pathetic in front of an audience such as this.
He was going to die. He might as well put all he was good for into making it worthwhile.
And then his years of practice took over. He threw on a nervous, yet charming smile, and waved to the cheering audience. He ignored the panicked look in Abolish’s eyes, the way his chalk white fingers curled around the edge of the step leading into the arena.
It was all part of the show, of course. Abolish was just so excited to see how this would turn out!
Scott fully intended to give him a showing he could never forget.
He spared Nikos a look. The champion of Zeus looked a little taken aback by Scott’s sudden change in attitude. A slight frown was playing on his bearded face, brows knit in concentration while his eyes roved Scott for something that Scott couldn’t quite name.
He tilted his head back to the night sky, briefly letting his eyes flutter shut as the overwhelming power of multiple godly abilities washed over him all at once.
Wordlessly, he selected one, reopening his eyes. The stars twinkled overhead in a kaleidoscope of purples and blues and pinks. The galaxy danced before his very eyes and Scott had half the mind to propel himself upwards. To run away from his responsibilities, to abandon this role he was subjected to play. To return to the stars where he belonged.
Instead he breathed in deeply through his nose and out his mouth, returning his gaze to Nikos across the arena from him. The viola materialized in his hand, the bow in his other.
A flash of surprise crossed Nikos face at the instrument that seemingly appeared from nothing.
“Well?” he called, voice gruff and impatient. “Are you ready to fight yet?”
Scott tilted his head at the champion of Zeus, pretending to consider this for a moment. “I’m ready whenever you are.” He accompanied this with a flirtatious wink that was sure to give Nikos even the slightest millisecond of doubt.
In that fraction of a moment that he had bought himself, Scott brought the viola up to his collar in his left hand, his right automatically forming a grip on the bow that he instinctively knew was correct.
He knew how to play many instruments, it all came with being a performer. The viola was always his favorite.
A rush of silence blew through the crowd as the hair hit the strings. A collective intake of breath as he began his melancholy piece so audible even the crickets stopped to listen.
He shut his eyes, drawing his elbow back with a flourish, sensing Nikos’ attack before it arrived. He spun out of the way, shooting his bow back across the strings with a dramatic double-stop chord, his finger sliding down the neck until it hit the wooden scroll in a glissando.
The hairs on his arms stood straight up. He propelled himself away just as a blinding bolt of lightning struck the place he had just been. He turned himself around midair, using his control over the air at his feet to soften his fall, and held a sustained A with all the vibrato he could muster.
Scott gracefully landed on the ground, lifting his gaze back up to Nikos. Frustration was ebbing at Zeus’ champion’s eyes already, his jaw so tight it looked ready to fall right off.
Nikos raised his hand and electricity crackled in the air around Scott. He jumped back as a bolt struck the ground he had previously been, the flash momentarily blinding him. That was the opportunity Nikos had been striving for.
The air around Scott crackled as another bolt hit a foot away, Niko appearing this time in its wake. Scott could have tried to sidestep Nikos’ attack, but nobody liked a fight of pure evasion, did they? He stayed where he was, pretending to be rooted in place by shock, and just barely was able to bring his viola up to shield the blow before he was slamming into the opposite wall with enough force to shatter his bones into nothing but dust.
His vision was black. His ears were ringing. His throat closing up.
No, it was fine.
It was all part of the show.
Pain corroded his mind, taking over his very being. His head felt it was being cleaved down the middle with a dull axe, his spine was being twisted into a ball by a very talented balloon artist. One arm was soaking wet. Agony was the only way to describe it.
But it was fine! This was going exactly as planned.
He tried to force his eyes open, but it felt like Nikos was repeatedly slamming his skull with the blunt end of that axe he carried around. Maybe he was. Who knew.
Then there was a soft voice by his ear. “Stay down, pretty one. I’ll make it quick.”
Scott stilled.
No! This wasn’t how it was supposed to happen!
If he couldn’t entertain, then what was he good for? He was just a useless waste of space with no real reason to even be here!? He didn’t need to be revived, he deserved death if this was the best he could do!
Using all the self loathing he could muster, Scott blindly flung himself away from Nikos, to the opposite side of the arena. He landed a little less gracefully than earlier, but he didn’t fall. And he could see again. The throbbing in his head lessened just enough for him to be able to focus, his spine seemed to correct itself just enough for him to move efficiently.
This must be Cleo’s power at work. That viola hadn’t come from thin air; he had summoned the instrument with the power that she had bestowed upon him and he had accepted. Abolish and Shelby had also offered him their blessings, but really, what was he going to do with a sword and a coin flip?
So he had chosen Cleo’s. There was something familiar about it. Something he couldn’t quite place.
He straightened himself, dropping the ruined viola at his feet, along with the snapped bow. The destroyed instrument disappeared in a blink, leaving just the grimy sand of the arena floor beneath him.
Scott glanced up at Nikos’ amused laugh. “There we go! Finally, some challenge!”
Scott offered him a slight smile, ignoring the blood that he could taste in his mouth. “Didn’t expect that, huh?”
“I can’t say I did!”
Nikos then charged towards him, axe raised and feet thundering against the solid ground. Scott ran at him, and moments before impact, threw his hand into the air. Immediately, a cacophony of winds engulfed the two of them, sweeping away the bolt of lightning that arced down upon Scott.
He darted to the side, the wind whistling past his ears, his hair flying about in his wake. Using his first ability, he propelled himself upward out of the miniature storm devoid of rain and thunder. For a second, he was floating. All eyes were on him. Just like they were supposed to be.
He pulled his bow from his back, notching an arrow, and drew his elbow backwards.
His timing was impeccable.
The wind storm ended just as his height peaked and Nikos suddenly became visible again. He let the arrow fly, guiding it with what little control over the winds he had left after his stunt.
He knew what was going to happen. That doesn't mean he was any less surprised when it actually did.
Nikos caught the arrow without turning to look at Scott. He glanced at it, then watched as Scott dropped back down to the ground, eyes tracking his descent. He raised a bolt of lightning, and—Scott—just having expended all of his power at the moment, let himself free fall through the sky. He let the bolt hit him, closed his eyes as the electricity surged through his body, absorbed the agonizing pain of having all his nerves lit aflame.
He hit the ground with a resounding thud, his spine once more curling into the fetal position, his head splitting in two right down the middle.
He laid there for a moment, wondering why he had not yet respawned. Why he was still alive.
Because he did have a little wind power left. He could have twisted out of the way, could have lessened the force of the attack. This fight had dragged on for long enough. That was the climax, the turning point of the fight. Scott had almost caught Nikos by surprise, but Nikos being the skilled fighter he was, turned the tables right back on Scott.
It would have been perfect.
So why was Scott still breathing?
Heavy footsteps slowly walked up to him until Nikos’ perfect face was looming overhead, blotting out the dancing stars in the sky. Scott peered up at him wordlessly, waiting for Nikos to make the first move.
“Why didn’t you dodge that?” His voice was heavily accented and he fought to keep it low, but the accusation in his words was clear as day.
Scott blinked at him. That was the last thing he expected Nikos to say. He thought he would merely congratulate him for attempting to fight him and not give up, and then end his misery with a swift blow to the head. Not… this!
“I… couldn’t,” Scott replied, the pain in his head slowly picking apart his brain until it was nothing but a bunch of scrambled nonsense.
“Bullshit,” Nikos muttered, glaring down at Scott. “Get up, we’re going again.”
“What are they going to think?” Scott didn’t make it clear who he was referring to as ‘they’. Nikos apparently didn’t need specification.
“Who cares what they think? Get up.”
Well, it wouldn’t be a very good show if Scott just laid there the whole time while he and Nikos argued.
“Fine.”
He attempted to push himself up. His vision flipped upside down and then decided to spin in a circle. He felt like throwing up.
Nikos apparently got impatient with him and hauled him to his feet, even taking the care to avoid his bloody arm. “There,” he said, taking a few steps away from Scott. “Now we fight.”
Scott swayed where he stood, just staring at Nikos. “Nikos, I really don’t think I—”
“Now we fight!”
Scott stifled a groan and backed up from Nikos with shaky legs, the adrenaline suddenly sinking from his body. The pain returned full force, the healing spell from the viola fading into reminiscences of the past, and Scott really just wanted to lay down and die.
All in all he was doing just great.
His arm throbbed relentlessly from where it hung at his side and he didn’t dare look down at it, the blood spattering the ground wherever he stood enough of an indication for him.
Nikos raised another lightning bolt but froze in that position, obviously waiting for Scott to make the first move.
Scott risked a glance back up at the other champions. Their eyes were glued on the two in the arena, but their hushed voices of confusion could reach Scott’s pain muddled ears even from all the way up there. He briefly met Abolish’s glowing, orange gaze. He had to tear himself away before he got lost.
They were growing distracted. Scott wasn’t doing a good enough job. Fine, if Nikos wanted a fight, then he was getting a fight.
Scott raised his eyes back to Nikos. “I’m ready whenever you are.”
“Good. Go.”
Scott flung himself at Nikos, unsheathing the sword that he barely knew how to use from his belt. He dived at the taller man, slashing a low arc with the sharp blade.
Nikos easily sidestepped him and swung his bolt unlike the projectile that it was.
Scott barely had the time to duck beneath the attack, his vision giving a sharp turn to the left, everything tinted with a sickly shade of green. He darted around Nikos, aiming for his neck with the tip of his blade.
Nikos blocked the sword with his own weapon and for a moment the two champions were locked in a standstill. Nikos’ strength won out pretty quickly and Scott was forced to jump back as the lightning bolt came swinging towards him with the force of a semi.
He didn’t realize how heavily he had been breathing until then. Rivulets of sweat snaked their way down his face and pooled at his collarbone. His chest heaved up and down with the oxygen that he just couldn’t quite get in.
Nikos was attacking once more and Scott couldn’t quite find the strength to jump out of the way of the weapon. It slashed across his torso, but instead of tearing the flesh and sending blood flying, he twisted it to the side and it merely slammed into his ribs with the bone shattering strength of an ox.
He stumbled backwards, his uninjured hand coming up to clutch at his side, pain sending bright stars popping in and out of his vision. His breath came out as a trembling wheeze as he staggered away as far as his suddenly heavy legs would allow.
Nikos advanced, a surprising irritation shining in his face. “Fight better.”
Scott glared at him. “If I could, I would, trust me. Not everyone can be built like a gladiator.”
“Build does not matter when it comes to combat!” Nikos exclaimed, gesturing to his own perfectly sculpted body. Yeah, easy for him to say. “What matters is how well you fight!”
“How well you fight depends largely on your physique,” Scott argued, some strange part of him uncaring if the audience was growing bored from their arguments.
Nikos shook his head. “I’ve fought many exciting fights with men as small as you.”
“Men as small as me?” Scott asked, somewhat insulted. “What’s that supposed to mean?”
“Not important.” Nikos waved him off. “What is important is the fight. You make first move.”
Scott groaned. “Look, Nikos, we both know I’m not gonna win this. Why don’t you just kill me and this can all be over, okay?”
Nikos scowled at him. “It’s not a real fight if you give up. I would be no victor. Attack me right now or I attack you.”
“Attack me, then.” Scott crossed his arms, ignoring the fresh wave of agony in his elbow, and raised his brows at Nikos in the most annoying way he could manage.
“Only if you fight back.”
Scott felt his arms drop back down to his sides. “You’re really damn persistent, you know that?”
The slight glimmer of a smile tugged at the edge of Nikos’ mouth. “I could say the same about you, pretty one. Well?”
“Fine. Whatever, have it your way, then.”
Scott turned on his heel and strode away from Nikos the best he could, subtly using the small control that he had retained over the winds to keep him moving. He didn’t look up at the audience. He couldn’t. Not when he knew he wouldn’t be able to keep up that winning smile that his fans adored so.
Without turning to look at Nikos, he dramatically raised a hand and let it hover in the air at about the same altitude of his head. For a moment, he allowed a rush of silence to befall the arena in anticipation, using this brief time for recollection. He let his eyes flutter shut, and then reopened them, spinning on his heel to face Nikos. At that very second, hundreds of bushes materialized from nothing on the forlorn, sandy ground.
Scott stood amidst them, the thorns brushing his feet and ankles, but they drew no blood. In fact, the most violent sensation they caused was a slight tickling.
Nikos, on the other hand, was taken completely by surprise. He had jumped back in shock, only to run right into more of those poisonous berries. A slight wince was the only indication of pain that the toxin drew out of him, but Scott knew he wouldn’t last long after what happened during the last fight. Drift had died within seconds of Cleo summoning this attack.
He had nothing left up his sleeve, nothing left to fight Nikos with. If this didn’t finish him off, then Scott would accept his inevitable death with grace.
With a shout from Nikos, the air around Scott crackled and lightning began to rain down upon him on all sides. It decimated the bushes, leaving charred, cracked earth in its wake. In moments, the only remnants of Scott’s last resort were a few scattered here and there, but nothing nearly substantial enough to cause any damage to Nikos.
Oh well. Scott didn’t really have any chance to start with.
The last crack of lightning hit the ground right in front of Scott’s eyes and then he was being slammed against the ground. He didn’t resist, letting himself go limp as a ragdoll as his head banged off of the blackened dirt.
A heavy pressure sat right on his chest, firmly keeping him glued to the sandy floor. That pressure was none other than Nikos, who had Scott’s very own blade pressed right against his jugular.
Scott found himself leaning into the stinging of the sword as it grazed the delicate skin of his neck, an odd comfort of familiarity in the pain. Maybe he would be able to rake his neck across the blade and end it himself. This fight had dragged on far too long, much longer than any of the other fights had. It was time to be done.
Nikos studied him for a moment, the sharp edge of the sword still pressing tight against his throat. “Why do you wish to die?”
Scott stared at him, slightly taken aback by the question. “I don’t.”
“Then why don’t you fight back?”
“I did. I used the attack that ended Drift in moments. It’s not my fault you’re stronger than her.”
Nikos shook his head, a low growl emitting from the back of his throat. “That’s not it. You knew I would be able to counter that attack easily. Why did you choose it?”
“It was my last resort!” Scott protested. “I literally don’t have anything else!”
“You do.”
“No, I don’t!”
“You could have turned into that goat.”
Scott glared up at him. “You really think that me turning into a goat would help?”
Nikos shrugged. “It was worth a shot.”
“No, it wasn’t. What are you waiting for? You won. Kill me.”
Nikos sent a brief glance over his shoulder at the audience as if noticing them for the first time. His eyes then returned to Scott, confliction evident in his dark gaze. “It doesn’t count as a duel if you don’t want to win.”
This again? Fine, maybe Scott could salvage this.
“Okay, fine, I’ll actually fight you this time, deal?”
Nikos hesitated for a moment, scanning Scott as if searching for falsities, but eventually he relented, standing up. He extended a hand, which Scott accepted and gripped tight as Nikos pulled him to his feet.
In that motion, Scott accumulated a small amount of force with the winds behind the hand wielding the sword and promptly drove it straight into his own stomach. To any outsider from afar, it would look as if Nikos had decided to stab him then and there of his own accord.
Scott didn’t like sharing the spotlight, but if it was to get him out of this godforsaken arena, then sobeit.
A collective gasp rang out from the audience as the blood began to soak the translucent cloth of Scott’s toga. The strength from his legs was gone and he collapsed against a silent Nikos, a strong arm wrapping around his back without hesitation to keep him from falling.
Blood was pooling in his mouth and he couldn’t breath. It felt his ribs were constricting into his lungs, puncturing them with the sharp edges of alabaster bone. He tried to speak. Speak what, he didn’t know. The only thing that left his mouth was a gargled bunch of half words with nothing intelligible in the mix.
Nikos’ arm tightened around his back and his gruff voice was suddenly a rumble in Scott’s ear. It was strangely soothing, like it could put him right to sleep. Well, that was what he wanted, wasn’t it?
“Don’t talk now. You’ve done enough.”
There was an anger there that Scott couldn’t quite place, but Nikos’ gentle grip on him seemed anything but angry. Huh.
Scott fully slumped in his warm embrace, eyes flitting closed, and then he was gone from the world.