lyssa [https://imgur.com/VUePKrs.png]

As Bernard vanished from the pits, Lyssa’s growing ire was replaced again by worry. Another game was beginning, some sort of obstacle course with gyrating planks and hanging ropes which swung over roaring waves. It gave her vertigo, just looking at it.

She hadn’t seen Abel in a number of rounds. He’d been given a break before the intermission, it seemed, but now she was wondering if he had succumbed to the wound on his leg. It had looked quite bad.

The chosen spectators climbed up ropes and leapt from plank to plank, their voices and groans amplified and transported through the open air of the arena. She watched their figures half-mindedly, wishing they might fail soon, so the next fight could start. The sooner that happened, the sooner she would know that Abel was safe.

Why am I so worried about him? Lyssa’s thoughts turned to the words Bernard had spoken. He was clearly off his gourd, but a seed of curiosity had been planted in her. Because he’s taking care of Sarah, obviously.

But if this is about Sarah, why am I not thinking about her? She hasn’t even been in one of these games. The stands around her were packed. There were lots of people in the arena. One or two people were standing and walking up the stairways between the aisles, but most were seated, watching the game below with interest, paying no mind to those around them.

Why am I just sitting here? I should be searching for her. Yet she remained seated, lost in her thoughts. The game came to its conclusion: only two had made it to the course’s end. The next competition began, a group of four competitors in a two on two fight. She had began recognizing their faces, especially now that there were so few.

The two she recognized most, those of Bernard and Abel, were not among them.

It’s only natural I’d be more worried about him. He looked as though he was going to bleed out. He’s also in the competition, and he didn’t look as though he was going to give in. And...

And there was a high likelihood, higher as the fights went on, that he would go against someone who had no fear of doing anything it took to win. Someone like Bernard.

Despite being so late in the festivities, most of the fighters still showed little signs of finesse. They circled more than they swung, they gave in at the first sign of blood.

After someone had taken a slice across his arm, he gave up, and once the situation was two on one, the other man gave up.

Then Lyssa was standing in the pit, or so she could only assume. She fell down, footing suddenly unstable, landing onto a moving surface. A stack of marbles a foot tall.

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Find the two red marbles.

She looked around. There were around ten others, all up to their ankles in marbles.

“Seriously?” she said, forgetting her words would carry. The crowds laughed.

She began to wade her hands through the small marbles. They were all black, uniform size and shape. She began crawling forward, using her arms to push the marbles aside, eyes open for any difference, anything brighter than the reflective black surrounding her.

She found it. A red marble three times the size of the others, vivid and polished. She quickly put it in her pocket, hoping the others hadn’t seen.

Thirty seconds passed before someone began whipping marbles. A man with a look on his face that tugged at the strings of her memory, until she finally placed how he looked familiar. He was one of those who had been walking down the arena’s halls with Bernard.

“Quit!” he yelled, tossing the marbles a handful at a time at those nearest to him. They protested, tried throwing them back, but, getting struck, surrendered, vanishing from the pit. Seeing how successful he was, he dragged his feet through the marbles, closer to the next closest person. Lyssa.

“Don’t,” she said warningly.

He grabbed a handful of marbles and prepared to whip them at her, then paused as she raised the red marble in the air.

“You found one?” he asked.

The others all looked over at her.

She swallowed hard. “Yeah.”

“Give it to me.”

“Stop whipping marbles and maybe I will.”

He whipped them anyway. They struck her back, stinging hard, causing her eyes to go wide with the pain. “Stop!”

“Give it to me!” He yelled as he threw more, harder, two of them cracking against the back of her head.

Why do I even care? She tossed the red marble through the air, towards the others, then whispered her surrender. She was sent back to her seat.

She rubbed at her head, wondering if she would be left with bruises, as she watched the rest of the game unfold. The others grouped up on Bernard’s comrade, pelting him with marbles until he quit. Then they quickly turned on one another until only one was left. It seemed none of them cared about finding the second red marble.

The next competition had two men against one another, both wielding short swords. They smiled across the pit. It seems they knew each other.

“Well this works out even better,” one of them said.

They both turned to the crowds, ignoring one another. One of them began calling out, yelling as though his voice wouldn’t reach them otherwise. “Who do you want to win this competition? Someone merciless who is going to kill you on the streets outside this arena? Or someone who is kind and will try to protect you?”

The other man continued, as though it had been rehearsed. “Abel is going to win this tournament. He’s going to fight until the end, not because he wants to win, but because he’s a good person who wants to put on a show for all of you.”

“Bernard...” the first man paused a moment, “Bernard killed Brian. He was our close friend and he didn’t deserve to get killed, not by an asshole like that guy. Abel was injured during his fight with the tiger, all of you saw it!”

The second man came in again, “His leg was torn apart, so what did Bernard do? He pushed him down the stairs during the intermission, trying to injure him even more and ensure his victory!”

The crowds were rumbling. Lyssa heard a few voices around her agreeing that Abel was their favorite to win, that they had heard about Bernard’s act already.

“There is enough death in this city. We didn’t come here to kill one another, we came here to escape the outside world and have fun. So that’s what we’re going to do.”

“Is that okay with all of you?”

The crowds cheered.

“So in the name of entertainment,” the first man began, lifting his sword, “Let us see who the better man is.”