"I did not know what I was expecting from you, Cain. But it wasn't that!" He laughed, taking a sip from the liquid sloshing in his cup. The air stank of some type of alcohol that I didn’t recognize.

Leaning into the wall, I listened to the steady drip of blood hitting the concrete floor. Underneath the stadium, the crowd sounded like a muffled roar.

"Don't you have other matches to watch?" I asked.

"I've seen Driftskull fight who knows how many times! The bitch has gotten boring," Lifdol huffed. "I came to let you know that all my fighters get healing services for free. I didn't expect you to make it past the first fight, so I didn't see a reason to tell you. But color me surprised!"

My head thumped against the wall as I chuckled. "No increasing my debt every fight, so I stay here forever?"

He was quiet, and the air felt heavy. "Forever is too long for us fucked mortals. A single moment could change everything." He paused before sighing and slapping me on the back. I winced, jolting forward. "Go get fixed up. I'm looking forward to what you do next."

***

Two days later, I finally left my room to escape the ants that had begun to crawl across my skin. Wandering through the city found them persistent, so I pushed through the grating sound of people and moved towards the distant crashing of waves.

The buildings around me grew further apart, and the ground grew wet. The smell of salt mixed with watered dirt squelched around my feet. Faint yelling drowned out by the sea complemented the sound of wheels dragging through the mud, and heavy grunts and footsteps were weighed down by what I assumed to be cargo.

I slipped away from the noises, moving to the right to avoid what seemed to be the main docks. The breeze from the ocean felt good on my overheated skin.

From the inside, I had felt like I was continuously burning ever since my flames had upgraded. It was as if I had not finished the job, and the heat pulsed against the thin membrane of my skin, demanding to be let out. The feeling was similar to when I had swallowed something too hot, and the burn spread across my chest and turned into a fiery ache. Only it was ten times worse. Every nook and cranny of my body was consumed. Yet, I found I did not mind it.

The pyromaniac walked gleefully two steps behind me, the skin over his face stretched tight.

The sounds of the docks now mostly faded, I stepped towards the water, feet suddenly sinking into sand. I kept walking forward until the waves began to lap at my ankles.

A cold touch to my elbow had me flipping around, stepping back into the water while my hand groped for my missing knife. Icy water splashed up my legs. At my reaction, a dry chuckle left the man I hadn't even heard approach.

"I mean no harm," he told me.

Still unnerved, I considered ignoring him and leaving. "What do you want?" I decided.

"Nothing, nothing. What one wants, never gets," he replied and laughed again before the sound trailed into a quiet cough.

I made to move around him, attempting to follow the shoreline. But, again, he grabbed my wrist, his hand too fast to dodge. I hissed at the feel, colder than the sea that had since turned my feet numb.

"Let go of me."

"Why don't you join me for a bit? Not long, not long." Without an answer, he pulled me further into the waves. There was no way to resist; his overwhelming strength simply made me follow him. I had no weapon, and the naked feeling filled me with apprehension. I could use my flames against him, but the priest silently shook his head at the thought.

There didn't seem to be any immediate danger, but I felt more trapped by the man's hand than when I had been in Davion's catacombs.

As the water began to reach my sternum, I heard the creaking of wood disturbed by the waves. The man pushed me in front of him, nudging me to enter the boat that had been floating in the water. I placed my hands on its damp rim, struggling to pull myself over the edge as it tipped.

The boat's appearance made me think the man came from the sea, and that he was about to drag me back in with him. He climbed into the small boat after me, sighing as he settled across from where I sat.

Placing oars in my hands, he urged me on. "Come, let's go. No time to waste."

"Where are we going? Why?" I asked, feeling like a petulant child. Nerves still lit up like fireworks under my skin, and I wondered if this strange man just wanted to take me somewhere quieter so he could kill me.

"I'll bring you back, don't worry." He laughed, I suspected at me. "Unless you don't want to come back here. I don't see why you would want to." He paused as if he were holding his breath. "Ha! Don't think you can see why either!"

I sighed and began to row as he cackled. Despite everything, my raging heart began to slow, and my head cleared just a little. This man didn’t have any apparent reason to kill me, and I was positive I’d done nothing to him.

Stolen from its rightful place, this narrative is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.

The pyromaniac didn’t share my feelings, and he snarled and fled as soon as I touched the water. As I was now completely surrounded by the ocean, I didn't see him returning anytime soon.

No harmful intent—that I could sense—was coming from the older man, but I still didn't exactly trust that conclusion since he had snuck up on me so easily. It was clear that he was more skilled than I was.

I seemed to row on and on, and the man didn’t utter a word where he sat. And, despite all my improvements, my arms began to falter, and I hardly made any progress. The waves were too violent to breach, and all I could do was fight against the pull back to shore.

Saltwater pricked my skin, accompanying the sting of my chapped lips.

"Stop," the man finally told me; I had almost forgotten he was there. Letting the oars fall, I pushed back the stringy wet hair that clung to my skin.

"What's the point of this?"

"Must there be a point?" he asked back.

"What else could drive us to do the things we do?" I responded, frustrated. I didn't know him, didn't know why he'd brought me out here, and didn't know if all he wanted was to play mind games with me.

"Why do you let the flames burn you from the inside? Why do you kill the ones you do, and let others die in front of you? Why do you get back up again?" He leaned forward towards me, wood creaking, and I still could not catch his scent.

What a game of questions we had begun.

I thought over his words, ignoring the fact that he knew such things about me. I was attempting to accept that this man would not be figured out. "...survival. And something else I don't understand," I told him.

He didn't respond, letting the water rock us back and forth. The air felt clear out here, so far away from the land.

"Who are you?" I asked.

Again, he stayed silent. His hand brushed over the boat's rim before I heard it drop to the water below. The ripples he made were disturbing, unnatural, and almost shockingly powerful. It was a power I could feel in my chest, where the cold seeped through.

"The sea is larger than you can sense. No matter how far you go, you won't ever reach the end. Just like your flames, yet you attempt to hold it all within you. Why?" The man didn't seem as if he was really waiting for me to answer. "Your fire has no consistency. It is impalpable, and yet it destroys everything it touches. But you still exist—fascinating."

I sighed, letting my head fall back. He was a man of no answers, and I didn't see a point in asking any more questions. Perhaps he was just another of my hallucinations.

Suddenly, he lunged towards me, rocking the boat as he gripped my shoulder. "Remember," he told me, more urgent than I assumed he could be, "you must remember. The sea and fire are both means of escape. They both cannot be tamed, yet you attempt to. Even I cannot see your future."

He pushed back from me as suddenly as he had grabbed me. Heavily, he sat back on the boat's bench. "I look forward to watching your flames explode. What a day that will be."

I opened my mouth to respond, only to be greeted with a flood of salty water. I kicked my legs, sputtering and coughing as I broke through the surface of the ocean. The boat was gone, and so was the man. I had dropped into the frigid water—or, more likely—I had wandered out into the sea following some confusing hallucination. That would explain why I couldn't sense the man any longer.

I knew I couldn't dismiss it so easily, though. This wasn't earth; the man's foreboding words had seeped into me and filled me with trepidation.

Floating in the water, I let the waves push me back and forth for just a moment. For once since the fight, I couldn't sense my flames—such an odd feeling. The rocking motion of the sea was almost relaxing.

But I could feel my muscles begin to twitch, stiffening from the cold. If I stayed longer, I knew I would be lulled to sleep at the bottom of the sea. Some part of me considered the idea.

I made it back to shore even with the waves pulling me backward, enticing me to their embrace.

A means of escape.

My legs were unsteady beneath me, and I let myself fall to the sand, water lapping at my feet.

The walk back to Lifdol's building was spent in a daze, and I only remembered using [Map Line] to make it back. Still drenched, my shirt stuck to my skin, and I could feel water constantly drip down my neck. Inside, I used a hand along the walls to guide myself, dizziness making my head swirl. It was cold when I raised a hand to touch it.

Heavy steps from behind me turned a corner, and I forced myself to move on, my room only a few paces away. The noises caught up to me, and a loud voice raised in greeting.

"What, Cain? Did you go for a swim?" Lifdol laughed, and I turned towards him.

"Did you need something?" I felt irritated; no part of me wanted to talk to the man.

"Actually, yes," he grabbed my wrist lightning quick, too out of sorts to avoid it, and shoved a balled-up piece of fabric into my hand. "Many spectators questioned your blindness, feeling right fucking displeased. Wanted refunds, of all things! Saying things like, 'I won't be lied to,' and we asked if they stayed for the rest of the matches, and they all did, didn't they?"

I rolled my neck, cracking it.

"Anyways, I assured them you're blind as the dead, but you'll need to wear that blindfold to avoid any more of this shit," he finished. I could hear the smile in his voice as he said, "It'll help your persona."

"Right," I clipped, shoving the strip of cloth into my pocket. "Is that it?"

Lifdol stilled, and I wondered what kind of look he was giving me. "You look like shit. Get it together, 'cause there's no mercy in The Pit."

I sighed. "You almost sound like you’re worried about me,” I said, and he snorted. It sounded ridiculous to me too. “I was planning to get some rest, but then you stopped me."

"I won't keep you then," he replied, his voice already fading down the hallway.

There was a dangerous edge to his "friendly" act. Lifdol seemed like the man who focused hard on gain, and I had no doubt that he'd get rid of me in a second if I didn't make him money. Of course, that is if I didn't fuck up and die in the next match.

Despite my wet state, I grabbed spare clothes from my room and went to the basement, where there were pools of water meant for washing. It cost nothing to let flames radiate from my palms, heating up the water.

My body was still cold from the ocean, and it left me feeling off-kilter. However, in the heated water, my interior gradually began to warm as if the flames were gaining back the ground that had been stolen. It started in my gut and spread outwards, heating up until my blood began to boil.

I didn't stay long, wary of my surroundings. Then, back in my room, I examined the blindfold Lifdol had given me, running my fingers over the coarse fabric.

Essentially, I was now no better than a racehorse.