"Livia!" Antonius appeared above me, his shield providing cover as I scrambled to my feet. "We're losing too many!"
He was right. Of our original twelve, only seven remained standing. The other team had lost more to the dragon, but they still outnumbered us now. I saw Marcus finally regain his feet, but his movements were sluggish, his face pale from blood loss.
"Fall back!" Marcus called, his voice hoarse. "Regroup by the western wall!"
But as we tried to retreat, the other team pressed their advantage. I saw pure panic flash across Marcus's face as herealized what we all knew - we were losing. The carefully laid plans, all our training, it meant nothing in the face of exhaustion and terror and the chaos of real battle.
The dragon roared again, and this time I felt something different in our connection - a desperate urgency that matched my own. Time was running out. Soon there would be no one left to help me free it, and all of this would have been for nothing.
I looked up at Drusus again, saw him leaning forward in his seat, eyes bright with bloodlust as he watched us die. The memory of his hands on me, his weight pinning me down, his whispered threats about what would happen if I didn't comply... The rage that filled me then was almost blinding.
Marcus caught my eye across the arena. Blood covered half his face, and real fear showed in his expression for the first time since I'd known him. He knew we were all going to die here, knew there was nothing he could do to save us.
I gripped my sword tighter, felt the weight of the hammer at my belt. It had to be now, ready or not. Better to die trying than wait until I was already dead.
But before I could move, a different kind of scream cut through the arena - not the excited bloodlust of spectators, but pure terror. My head snapped up toward the stands just as the first horns began to sound from the city walls. Not the brass performance horns of the arena, but the deep, resonant warning horns that hadn't been heard in a generation.
"Talfen!" The cry went up from somewhere in the western stands. "The demons are here!"
For a heartbeat, everything seemed to freeze. Then, beyond the arena walls, orange light began to paint the darkening sky. Not the last rays of sunset - this was the angry glow of a city burning.
The stillness shattered. Panic erupted in the stands as thousands of people tried to move at once. The wooden benches,already groaning under the weight of too many spectators drawn by the promise of a dragon fight, began to crack. Screams of terror mixed with the sounds of splintering wood and the deeper rumble of stone shifting beneath too much strain.
"They'll kill us all!" someone shrieked. "The demons are coming to eat our souls!"
The imperial soldiers stationed around the arena tried to maintain order, but they were caught between their duty to defend the city and the surge of humanity trying to escape. I watched as one was lifted off his feet by the crowd, his white uniform disappearing under a sea of bodies before he was pushed, screaming, over the arena wall. He landed with a sickening crunch not twenty paces from us.
The dragon's head snapped around at the movement. Before the soldier could even try to stand, those massive jaws closed around him, armor and all. The crunch of metal and bone was lost under the crescendo of panic from above.
More people were falling now as the crowds pushed against the safety barriers. They fell like rain, hitting the sand with terrible finality. The dragon's tail whipped back and forth, catching some before they even landed. Those that survived the fall lay broken and moaning, or tried to crawl toward the arena gates, only to be trampled by others who fell after them.
"The gates!" Marcus shouted, but his voice was nearly lost in the chaos. "Get away from the gates!"
I saw what he meant - the massive arena gates were shuddering under the weight of the crowd trying to force their way through. The iron hinges screamed in protest, ancient wood starting to splinter. If they broke, thousands would pour into the arena floor.
Our opponents seemed to have forgotten us entirely, their weapons hanging loose as they stared up at the disintegrating spectacle above. More horns sounded from the city, closer now.The orange glow had become a red glare that turned the clouds themselves to blood. Smoke began to drift over the arena walls, bringing with it the acrid smell of burning wood and something else - something that made the hair on the back of my neck stand up.
"They're inside the walls!" The cry came from the imperial box, where the nobles who had been so comfortably watching us die were now fighting each other to reach the private exits. "The Talfen are inside the city!"
I saw Drusus trying to maintain his dignity as he retreated, but one of his own guards shoved him aside in their panic to escape. He stumbled, catching himself on the rail, and our eyes met across the distance. The fear in his face sent a thrill of satisfaction through me, even amid the chaos.
The dragon's chains rattled as it strained upward, nostrils flaring at the scent of smoke and terror. Its wings half-opened despite the restraints, casting strange shadows in the firelight that now illuminated the arena more brightly than day. Those golden eyes seemed to glow with reflected flames, and steam poured from between its teeth as it tasted the panic in the air.
"Livia!" Septimus appeared at my side, his face streaked with blood and sand. His hand went to the hammer at his belt. "If we're going to do it, it has to be now!"
He was right. The chaos above was the perfect distraction, but it was also our biggest threat. Already the crowd's panic was turning to violence as people fought over the limited exits. More sections of seating were giving way under the strain. Soon the arena floor would become a death trap as more and more people fell or jumped to escape whatever horrors were occurring in the city.
More horns sounded, but these were different - harsh, discordant notes that set my teeth on edge. The Talfen war horns, made from the bones of their victims, if the storieswere true. They seemed to cut through the human screams like knives, and each blast brought fresh waves of panic.
"The demons are coming!" "They'll take our souls!" "Run! Run while you still can!"
The crowd's fear became something almost physical, a wave of terror that swept through the stands like a living thing. More people began deliberately jumping into the arena rather than risk being trapped above. They landed all around us, some dying instantly, others crawling or staggering toward the gates, heedless of the dragon or the armed gladiators in their desperation to escape.
Above us, the noble box finally gave way completely, spilling its richly dressed occupants onto the sand like scattered jewels. The dragon's head snapped around at the movement, but even its appetite seemed momentarily checked by the sheer scale of the chaos unfolding around us.
The remaining gladiators had begun to retreat toward the arena walls, all thoughts of combat forgotten as survival instinct took over. Even Marcus looked lost, his sword pointed uselessly at the ground as he watched his carefully planned battle dissolve into something far more terrifying.
I didn't hesitate. While everyone else stared at the chaos above, I sprinted toward the nearest column. Septimus was right, this was the moment I needed. Behind me, someone shouted my name - Marcus perhaps, or one of the others - but their voices were lost in the cacophony of screams and splintering wood from above.
