And that’s as far as my plan goes.
I bolt through the Macella Quarter, which is eerily empty. That tells me one thing: the Games are on. Citizens are watching noxiors get bloodied and annihilated in the Arena. My heart pumps faster, fueling the energy in my legs, and I increase my speed. My shoulder burns from the scuffle with Crixus, but I don’t care. A lot of discomfort is about to come my way over the next few hours and days as my body deteriorates. No use letting that bother me now.
I reach the tiro entrance to the training grounds. The thing about the training grounds is that they always let people in. You have to earn your citizenship to get out.
“Hey, it’s Icarus!” one of the guards remarks as I arrive. He must not know that Crixus and the other tirones were trying to kill me mere minutes ago.
I put on a grin. “I’m craving a fight today. Let me in?”
One guard laughs. “The crowd will freak out. You’re going to obliterate those Spores.” He unlocks the gate and I dart inside, a chill settling in my gut at his words.
I pop my head into the barracks since they’re the first thing I pass, but, as I expected, they’re empty. All except two noxiors sleeping. A few others train in the sparring area, but I blast by. The closer I get to the Arena corridor, the louder the cheering.
Then I hear a child’s scream.
I veer that way and crash against the double gates, frantically peering through to the fire-lit sand.
There they are—all the Adelphoi children, huddled in a circle near the center of the Arena. Erik and Stranna guard the perimeter of the circle as best they can. They went to sleep in the Real World, and now they’re here, fighting. Likely about to die again. I finally see the beasts they’re up against.
Three coal-black lions with thick chains for manes instead of hair. One lunges and Erik swipes at it with a mistblade. The blade gets tangled in the chains. The lion bares its teeth—double rows like a shark’s—and clamps down on Erik’s arm. It tugs him forward, and he falls to the sand, still swiping at the creature despite his yells of pain.
One child disappears. Then another. Waking up in the Real World as an attempt to escape this attack. But only two. Several others blink hard, but to no avail. They’re too old. Unless they’re Adelphoi, if they’re killed here . . .
I shake the bars, hollering for a tiro to let me in. But there isn’t a tiro since they usually let the noxiors through and then go back to their own business. There’s no reason to stick around unless they want to watch the massacre.
No one in their right mind should want to watch this.
The crowd cheers. The same crowd that shows up, desperately hoping their child’s name will be called and they can have a sweet teary reunion on the sand. They don’t mind watching other people’s children die.
Luc allowed this. He most likely called for this. Instead of reuniting these kids with their parents, he’s deemed them enemies because they can no longer wake up and serve him in the Real World. They’re useless to him.
It’s never been about saving kids—it’s only ever been about using them. A low I didn’t think he’d stoop to. But I also see the sick brilliance in his leadership—he created fear of the Adelphoi in the citizens, while also pacifying citizens by returning their “lost” children. He leads with fear and love. And the concoction somehow creates loyalty.
All this slaughter because the Adelphoi tried to kill his father.
This retaliation of his . . . it’s not justice. It’s vengeance. And vengeance is an ugly thing.
I shove key after key into the padlock holding the gates together. One of them has to fit. These are Crixus’s keys, and he’s the big guy in charge. But maybe he has another key ring somewhere—on his belt or something.
A lion gets one of the kids by the leg. She screams and swats at it. Stranna leaps on the lion’s back and thrusts her sword in between its lips, trying to pry its jaw open. It releases the little girl and spins to snap at Stranna.
“Let me through!” I shout, hoping someone—anyone—will hear. I start over on the keys.
“You’ll only get yourself killed,” someone yells from behind me. I turn briefly and see nothing but a few green noxiors, cowering and watching. Then a figure enters the corridor at the far end.
Crixus. He defeated the Minotaur already.
Time’s up.
I turn back to the gates and abandon the keys. Fists versus metal will lose every time. Though I’ve already created a troll and a Minotaur, I feel as though my nightmist well is full. Overflowing.
I close my eyes and focus my emotions into a creature, pouring everything out in a feral yell. A storm of mist bursts from me, growling and roaring. The gates burst to pieces, and I break away from the mist to cover my face as metal pieces pelt me. Then I see my creation.
A dragon.
It fills the entry tunnel, trapped halfway in the Arena and partway in the training area. Its tail thrashes, and screams rise from behind me. I leap over a sweep of its tail as it tries to wiggle through the tight hole. Stones break. Dust falls. I barrel forward and try shoving the beast from the rear. It roars. I pray it’s not trying to eat the children.
But a dragon was what I’d pictured—not a flesh-hungry monster like Smaug but more the Norbert type with a little more obedience. I shove again, and the dragon claws at the ground, sending clods of dirt and sand spraying back into my face.
Finally it bursts through the tunnel with a crumble of stone. I snag its tail on its way through, and it pulls me free of the rubble.
And then we’re in the Arena. The crowd screams, first from terror, but now they spot me.
“Icarus!” The screeches turn frenzied—obsessed—like fans at a rock concert. They’re not bothered at all by this sickening display of entertainment.
The three coal-black lions back away from the dragon, swatting at him like house cats. He snaps at them. Children run to huddle behind Stranna and a wounded Erik. The dragon swivels its head toward them.
Don’t attack, I mentally command, a little helplessly, since I have no control over the beast. It comes down to when it was formed, not a command afterward. I hope I gave it enough thought before setting it loose from my mind.
It sticks its tongue out at the kids but doesn’t try to eat them. It would have been comical if everything wasn’t so dire.
“Get on!” I yell at them, gesturing and stumbling through the sand.
Stranna spots me and her eyes widen. “Cain?”
Tirones enter the Arena behind me, Crixus at the head.
“Get them on the dragon!” I bellow.
