Despite feeling like a fantasy concubine, draped in gems and golden chains, the viewing window onto the arena looks like something out of the movie Minority Report.
Translucent screens float and shuffle along the convex and bulging window. They run what I assume are stats of the hopefuls. Some of the smaller screens are zoomed in on a set of stone doors. The arena seems to be built of the same lava rock that Kitaico’s cave was.
Given the large windows, I assumed it would be an underwater battleground…but it’s not. There are puddles of bubbling water, like the hot springs Kitaico took me to.
The arena is smaller than I expected. I don’t know why I thought it would be like The Hunger Games, where they had a basically unlimited expanse of space, but it’s much more like a Roman gladiator pit. There are a few large plants and piles of rocks and debris scattered throughout.
To the farthest side opposite our large window, the crater opens into the ocean, waves lapping at the black sand. The open water spreads out as far as my eyes can see beyond that.
Beneath us are rows and rows of bubbled windows.
And here we sit at the top, in box seats to the bloodbath. My stomach twists, not wanting to bear the gruesome ritual these people hold dear.
Once I let the grisly thought leave my mind, I realize something else about the space. The entire arena appears to be in a long-dead volcanic crater. The Andjin have carved out their homes in this rocky mountain, running tunnels and rooms like ants in a hill.
Yiskku comes back and takes a seat in the chair next to me, sandwiching me between her and the chancellor.
Some dissonant instrument sounds as she once again grabs my hand.
“Are you ready?” she whispers, eyes glued to the screens with the doors.
“No.”
Despite my protest, my attention is drawn to the screens as the heavy double doors swing wide.
Four males, all so different, stand tall. The screen lights up with Kitaico’s face, and he winces as a bright pink light washes over him.
Just as if it’s his cue, the chancellor rises from his seat and confidently approaches the floating screens. Grabbing a small circular disk, he places it over the column of his throat.
“May the hopefuls bring honor to their families. We thank them for their sacrifice.” His voice booms through the hidden speakers in the room. “May the best male overcome his opponents. At the signal, you have five minutes to take your starting positions.”
Kitaico’s face, visible through the screen, displays complete resolve. But so do the faces of his companions.
One of them, right beside Kitaico, stands out because of his immense size. His biceps are unbelievably huge, larger than my entire waist. There’s a cruelty to his face as he smiles for the cameras. It’s so incredibly unnerving that I look away. I can feel his gaze burning holes at me through the holo screens.
“That’s Aekaz,” Yiskku whispers in my ear. “His muscles draw the blood away from his brain, do not worry.”
For as much as I want to laugh, I can’t. Stupid or not, he is impressively terrifying.
A single note comes through the loudspeakers again, and my heart is filled with dread as the arena goes black and all the lights are shut off. A measured beeping, I assume to count down the time, picks up its pace.
When the tone sounds so fast that it becomes constant, the lights return and the arena is empty, save for the brute of an Andjin standing in exactly the same place as before.
For a moment I assume the worst, that he’s somehow already killed everyone, until Yiskku whispers, “They’re hiding in plain sight,” and points to a few of the outcroppings of rocks and brush that dot the arena.
I see nothing until Aekaz rushes the rocky pile to his left. When he grabs the smallest of the hopeful’s neck, the little one’s skin shifts back to his normal green color. He thrashes in his grip, his longer head tentacles reaching back up for Aekaz’s throat.
When the tip of one appendage skirts by Aekaz’s lips, he opens his mouth and bites down. His fangs sink into the muscular tube of flesh.
The sound of his screams reverberates in my ears as I witness the slow decay of the limb, the venom spreading like an ominous darkness. His anguished cries make it seem almost compassionate when Aekaz snaps his neck. The green body drops to the black ground, his head lifelessly bouncing off the pile of rocks as he does.
I knew the Andjin venom was deadly…but I didn’t realize it was that incredibly gruesome.
Aekaz licks his fang as he steps over the fallen hopeful’s corpse, pulling his shoulders back as he searches for his next target.
He walks slowly and deliberately through the battleground. His nostrils flare as he stalks, stopping at any place that appears it might make a good hiding spot.
I lean into Yiskku and ask, “Why is it taking so long? He seems to have found the first male easily.”
She pulls her lips back over her petite fangs, her face incredulous.
“His camouflage was terrible. Could you really not see him?”
“Nope, guess my human eyeballs just suck,” I pout.
“Kitaico and Roinsi are much better in the art of evasion than poor Guion was,” she says sadly.
“Why didn’t Aekaz hide?”
“It’s the way of things, the hopeful deemed the strongest hunts the others. It is a point of pride among our males to win at a disadvantage.”
“I’m over male pride.” I slump further into my seat.
I wish I was strong enough to look away from the screens, but I can’t. As Aekaz throws boulders bigger than a midsize sedan around the arena, I’m transfixed.
Where are you, Kitaico?
Unfortunately, even I can spot him when the burned tip of his foretentacle, the one I shot off, comes into the camera’s frame.
