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The arena had thinned. Where once there had been dozens of initiates, now only scattered figures remained. Most lay broken on the stone floor, their bodies twisted and still, their blood mingling with the black ichor of the beasts. The air reeked of iron and smoke, of the copper bite of death. Emil stumbled forward, every muscle screaming. His shirt was shredded, his skin streaked with cuts and bruises. His side burned where claws had raked across him. His sword felt twice as heavy now, each swing threatening to pull him down into the same darkness that had claimed so many already. Mira kept close, her dagger flashing as she struck down a limping beast that dragged itself toward them. She said nothing, but Emil could see the exhaustion in the way her chest heaved, the tremor in her hand
- Writer
