The world is quiet. I don’t know if the Drak are still chanting. Or laughing. I don’t know if they are in awe or uncertain.
It doesn’t matter, because in my mind, there is only me, the darkness inside, and my adversary. The corrupt power of a thousand lost lives rips into my soul.
My vision blinks, fading away softly.
She will be my undoing.
17
Lina
What the hell are they?
My hand covers my mouth as the terrifying beasts called men spill each other’s blood and tear into each other’s flesh.
I can’t tell them apart. I don’t know which of the two monsters is the original claimer. Which is the one they called betrayer?
Which would be a better… owner? My stomach churns.
It makes no difference. There is no way out of this situation. I will have to live at the mercy of one of these two men, and this fight is simply showcasing how deeply I will be vulnerable.
I’d heard rumors of the cult warriors being more than human. Something… else. I thought they were rumors, like the tales that they were scelped humans.
Other rumors say they are cannibals out of necessity. Rather than starve, they feast on the flesh of humans. Tonight, I saw them drink blood. Will these men feed on me in that way?
Still others claim they are a radical religion that is too dangerous to let thrive—that is what I always believed. But this?—
Teeth elongate into fangs. Eyes glow.
They are not men.
Their bodies slam into each other. Blow after blow.
Cracks of bone.
Splatters of blood.
Ripping of flesh.
And screams of pain and rage alike.
The evidence that stares me right in the face here and now, says they are literal monsters. Demons.
My mind spins into nothing but fear and darkness, until I’m clawing away from the beastly men battling just feet from me. I don’t know what I’m doing, where I’m going, or what I’m grabbing.
“Get her out of here,” a harsh feminine voice says, then I’m kicked in the head by a golden sandal and sent flying to the ground with a groan.
I land on my back and scramble around to continue watching the horrible fight.
One of the fighters jerks his attention to me, eyes wide, only for a fist to land right on his temple in the next moment.
He crashes to the ground with a horrible crunch, and the cheers grow louder.
When the victor speaks, it is not a human voice but something utterly alien. “You will not touch what is mine.”
I blink rapidly, limbs numb.
I am grabbed by another set of hands and forced to my feet. The woman wearing a brown garment guides me away from the fighting to an open area where the circle of men shouts at the fighters, still visible but distant.
