He opened his eyes, but saw nothing. He tried to move his hands but they were tied together behind his back. His body was trembling from the chilling cold and the moisture. What had happened? Where was he? Slowly and painfully, Vreil recalled the memories of what had happened. Someone ambushed him at that damn ladder. He tried to speak, but he coughed instead. When his throat stopped bursting out, he tried again.

“Sting?” he asked, afraid of the answer.

“Vreil,” came Sting’s answer from somewhere in the darkness. “Where are we?”

“I don’t know.” The thought of Ashter shined in Vreil’s dizzy head. “Ashter should be looking for us. I pity the ones who hold us.”

“Nobody is going to find you.” a strict voice echoed in their ears. A hand pulled something from Vreil’s head and now he could see again.

He was in a cave, or a dungeon, underground, surrounded by rocks on three sides and iron bars in front of him. He was in a small cage carved in rocks, which was only big enough to fit one more person. In front of the cage was a man holding a black mask in his hand, probably what was keeping Vreil from seeing before.

Vreil couldn’t see him clearly because of the light coming from the torches behind him, as well as the fact that his eyes were struggling to adjust. All he could see what that the man was normal in size, nothing extravagant. In the cage next to him, he saw Sting, wearing a similar mask. Other than the man, there were no guards.

“This place is unknown even to the palace. They will never find you, not even your bodies,” continued the man.

“Who are you? What do you want from us?” asked Vreil.

“Ignoring the question about his name, the man answered the second one. “You will fight and shed your blood in the arena. If you win, we might let you live.”

“Where is Heartilia?” asked Sting as the thought of the girl came to him.

“You will see her soon.” The man took Sting’s mask off as well and then left, leaving them trapped.

“What are we going to do?” asked Sting after a long silence.

“We must escape somehow. If they make us fight against others in the same situation as us, we can’t kill them.”

“Why not?”

Vreil looked at him shocked. “We can’t kill someone innocent. We’ll be as bad as the ones we are fighting against, the king and his court.”

“You are too kind, Vreil. It will take you down someday.”

“Then at least I will have died following my principles.”

“What do you know about principles?” Sting lashed out.

Vreil stared at Sting surprised. “Excuse me?”

“What do you know about principles?" Sting's voice was gradually getting louder. “You are far too innocent to survive, Vreil, and you know it. We can’t kill them because they are innocent? Do you know how many innocent people die every day? Do you understand what will happen if we die here? We will probably go to war with the elves and all we have done will go to hell! We have to survive no matter what, Vreil. If you can’t handle it, then kill yourself as soon as we are out, but don’t drag me down with you.”

“Really? So you will abandon everything we have been fighting for to survive? Isn’t there anything you put above yourself, Sting? What’s the use of surviving if we lose what we are living for?” Their loud voices echoed around the place.

“I am living for myself. Not for the kingdom, or Ashter or the revolution or whatever. I am just helping out because I feel like it.”

“So you would betray us if you felt like it?”

“My word counts, Vreil. If I say I will help, then I will help. I am not a traitor.”

“Yeah, say that to Black Beard,” Vreil's voice pulsed with hatred at the memory of the man who killed his parents. He looked at Sting, and the other man’s eyes grew bloodshot. His voice came out harsh as he bellowed out,

“That was different!”

“Yeah? How was it different?” Vreil wasn’t blind to the sharpness of his words, but he had no intention of backing down. He too was scared, and angry, and desparate. What the fuck do I have to lose?

Sting didn’t answer immediately. When he did, his voice was down to its normal volume. “I was born in a village at the east of Portsmith. My father was an honest sailor who supported the White House by transporting goods. Of course, he was also a merchant, but his main source of income was the White House. And one day, the White House told him to go through a dangerous route. I have no idea why, but the point is that he had the opportunity to refuse. To keep his family safe. But he believed in his principles, and he agreed to go.”

He took a trembling breath before continuing.

“His ship had no weapons and was easily taken over by pirates. He was killed for being the only one that resisted. I tried to join the White House to avenge him, but they didn’t accept me, fearing that I would betray them for vengeance. So I joined the Black Beard pirates, the ones that killed him, to destroy them from the inside. I was never loyal to them, so shut the fuck up, will you?”

A moment of silence ensued.

“Sting,” said Vreil in a quiet voice, “I know it is difficult to believe me because I was an asshole just now, but I understand how you feel. My parents were also killed by the Black Beard pirates. I avenged them.”

“No, you don’t understand. After I joined and they saw that I was an Arknas, they took me to their leader. He tried to activate all the magic in my body at the same time, like an experiment to give me power. I almost died at that time, and Black Beard told me that when I got more used to using magic we would try again. So I swore to never use magic again, besides support magic, like the kind I had already learned, body strengthening magic, or the aura bullshit that Ashter taught us on the way here.”

“And now that Black Beard is dead, will you keep your oath?”

“Yes. Even if he’s not a danger anymore, there are more people willing to do anything for power. You should be careful too, Vreil.”

“Thank you. I will.”

“Sting?” said Vreil after a pause. “I’m sorry about what I said before.”

“Me too.”

“About that fight, we’ll figure something out.”

The narrative has been stolen; if detected on Amazon, report the infringement.

“Yes. For now, let’s try to escape.”

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Jeffrey stepped out of the throne room and into the first-floor garden. He needed a break. He crossed the garden, full of flowers he had never seen before, and leaned against the short wall lining the edge of the garden, preventing him from falling down. He sighed, looking at the horizon. Linda appeared next to him.

“I didn’t hear you coming,” he said.

“If you had, I would probably have to quit,” she replied with a smile. Behind her warm smile, Jeffrey could see the cold heart of an assassin.

“Are those two still at it?”

“Yes, and it looks like there is still a long way to go.”

“Is it difficult?” he asked suddenly. “I mean, having to lie to those kids.”

“Lying is my job. I’m used to it. It should be harder for you, Heartilia being your daughter.”

“Still, I’m surprised Ashter hasn’t found us out yet.”

“Hmph”, snored Linda. “Don’t overestimate him. As long as he is human, he can be fooled. All humans lie to themselves at some point.”

“Including you?”

Linda stared into his eyes. “Of course, me too. Trust me, he has no idea. The kids could already be Underground now.”

“And you are sure that Heartilia will be unharmed?”

“I already told you a hundred times. Trust me.”

“Why should I trust someone like you?”

“You shouldn’t. If your instinct tells you not to believe me, you are free to tell them everything,” said Linda before turning around and walking back inside. Jeffrey followed her to the throne, where the negotiations were still taking place. He had already decided to put his trust in her.

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Vreil and Sting didn’t have time to plan anything. Some minutes after the man that took their masks off left, four more men, all muscular, appeared. They escorted them through many small, stone corridors, without a single word, until they reached their destination. Vreil and Sting couldn’t do anything with their hands and legs tied together.

The men pushed them through a big iron door and three, even more muscular men showed up. They were in a big, round room surrounded by glass. Behind the glass, there were seats full of elves dressed in fancy clothes. There was a small amount of something that looked like grass in front of every seat. Most elves were eating or sniffing that grass, and all of them looked strange, their pupils enlarged and a stupid grin etched on their faces.

From behind Vreil and Sting, Heartilia walked into the room, accompanied by two more men. Her legs weren’t tied. The guards probably thought it wasn’t necessary.

“Heartilia,” shouted Vreil, “are you okay?”

“Yes, I’m fine,” she replied weakly. “Did they do anything to you?”

“No, no, I’m okay.”

“Ladies and gentlemen,” a soft voice echoed throughout the room. The audience screamed as a man in a stylish suit appeared on a podium that stood out in front of the audience, surrounded by bodyguards, deadpan and scary.

“Today,” continued the man in the suit, “we present you a rare sight. From the Southern Human Kingdom, we have brought you humans!” The audience screamed again, this time even louder.

“They are ready to fight and bleed for you, right here, right now. What do we want to see?”

“BLOOD!” shouted the audience with all the power of their lungs.

“Dear humans,” said the man in the suit, finally addressing them. He was tall and with a lot of hair, painted golden. That golden color was what stood out most about him. “Welcome. This is the Underground arena, a place for fighters. You have our deepest thanks for accepting to fight here for our pleasure.”

“We didn’t accept anything,” shouted Vreil.

“You didn’t have to. Others did for you.”

“Who?” Sting asked in confusion.

“My name is Ceasar,” declared the man, ignoring the question. “Now, my guests,” he turned back to the audience, “what do you want to see? Do you want to see them fight each other, in a heated battle of blood and tears, or team up against our bravest warriors?”

Even though the situation wasn’t really suitable for things like that, Vreil had to recognize that Ceasar was really talented at stirring up the audience. A number of voices rose, but only a few of them were actually responding to Ceasar’s question.

“What is it I hear?” said Ceasar, clearly deciding on his own. “Very well, my friends. Let’s have them fight against our best fighters!” The audience screamed again. What’s wrong with them? Wondered Vreil. They are certainly rich, how can they seem so crazy? What is wrong with this town?

“Now, let me tell you the rules,” said Ceasar.

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Back at the palace, Ashter stepped out of the room and into the garden. He knew he was necessary for the negotiations to proceed properly, but he had instructed Sir Arnold to slow things down until he came back. He had a bad feeling. Reaching the edge of the garden, he cast a search spell on the rooms. The kids should be back by now. Not finding them, he expanded the area of the spell. After reaching the outskirts of the town, he withdrew his magic. He hadn’t found them. They were Underground, or dead.

Ashter stormed into the throne room, interrupting the prince.

“They are Underground,” he said. “Vreil, Sting and Heartilia are Underground.”

Everyone stood up at once, except for the queen. “Didn’t you tell them not to go there, Ashter?” she asked.

“They did not listen to me, or maybe it did not even reach their ears. That does not matter now, Malira. The darkness of this town could swallow them down there. Every minute we waste here makes it easier for them to die.”

“We can help too, if you want,” suggested Snaker, the prime minister. Ashter nodded in agreement, knowing that the prime minister would demand that Ashter return the favor at some point. Still, it was absolutely worth it. Snaker would be hard-pressed to find a favor valuable enough to outweigh Vreil’s life.

“Prepare a unit,” shouted Prince Alexander in a deep voice. The guards that were hiding in the shadows of the room had already left to execute the command. The humans, accompanied by the prince and the prime minister, rushed downstairs to see soldiers come out of a side building.

“Men,” said the prince, “we are going Underground. Our objective is to save the three young humans there. Arrest anyone suspicious, and use deadly force if you need to.”

He got on his horse and ran into town, followed by his soldiers. The prime minister came next to him on his own horse and so did the humans, riding in pairs, after they found their horses.

“It’s too bad your mother can’t be here with us,” said the prime minister to the prince.

“She’s too old, Snaker. Focus on what’s ahead.” Besides the sinkholes scattered around town, there was a tunnel close to the palace that led underground. They decided to use that so they wouldn’t have to leave their horses behind. The prince had almost entered the tunnel when he heard an unexpected sound.

“Wait,” he ordered. Next thing he knew, hordes of terrified elves were running out of the tunnel. Prince Alexander almost got caught in the stampeded, but Ashter pulled him aside at the last minute, horse and all. The prince looked at him. “I’ll remember this, Ashter. Thank you.”

“What is happening down there?” asked the prime minister, trying to raise his voice over the screams of the terrified elves that kept coming out of the tunnel. Suddenly, a roar sounded from inside the tunnel, covering every other sound. Ashter’s eyes widened and he trembled in fear as he recognized the origin of the roar.

“NO!”, he shouted as he ran inside the tunnel at a speed faster than any horse could achieve. The elves, despite their being in a state of panic, stepped aside as he stormed by them, in fear of the primordial, unstable force he emitted.

“What is going on?” shouted the prince. “After him.” There were fewer elves running out of the tunnel now, so he and his soldiers hurried inside.

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Back at the palace, the head butler responsible for taking care of the queen rushed to her side as soon as he heard the roar. “Your Highness,” he said anxiously as he entered the garden of the first floor, where the queen was. In horror, he saw that she had fallen off her chair and was on the ground, trembling.

“My queen!” he yelled and ran at her, forgetting his manner and stature as he struggled to put her back on her chair.

“Run,” she whispered.

“What?” the butler stopped startled. Never before had he sensed fear in the queen’s voice.

“Run,” she whispered again in a weak voice. “He’s here. Run for your life.” Saying that with her last ounce of energy, the queen fainted, perhaps for the last time.

As he was running as fast as he could to get the doctors, the butler thought that it would be a disgrace if those were her final words. What could she, one of the most powerful women in the Land of the Six Kingdoms, possibly be so afraid of?