Marisar looked at me in a way I thought might be his species’ way of conveying confusion. “You don’t know the story of the Sun god?"

“I’m not from around here."

“Where are you from?” Gronch asked from the area to my right, dispelling my idea that the sections were assigned based on some numbering system. The half-orc looked at the Selenian with disbelief. “You realize that she ain’t even told anyone her name, right? Not even the slavers know.”

“My name,” I hissed, “is none of your business, half-orc.” I spat the last part out in sheer annoyance. Orcs and I had rarely gotten along. They never respected anyone. Half the time not even themselves. The vehemence of my current twelve-year-old posh voice, unfortunately, couldn’t quite convey the level of intimidation I would have liked. I honestly probably looked more like an angry mouse to Gronch than a pissed-off Diamond cored-queen. At least the half-orc was visibly shocked. Not scared, but I’d take what I could get.

Before Gronch could collect himself and, by the increasing redness in his face, explode with indignation, Marisar started speaking.

“The Sun Setting Festival is a story of the great love between the Sun God, Asoras, and the Moon Goddess, Lunaria.

The Sun God was known for his passion and strength. He ruled the day and brought forth daylight with the heat of his brilliance. Within his fiery heart, there burned a longing—an uncontrollable yearning to touch the unending darkness of the night, to cast his burning gaze on the moon’s soft glow.”

Marisar told the story as if reading it from a book, which I suspected he was, in a way. I wondered how many times he’d read the story. And to whom.

“One night, the Sun God didn’t go to sleep. He stayed and he waited. He waited for the moon to rise. And, there she was with the rising moon. The Moon Goddess, ethereal and serene with a luminescent beauty, also desired love. She harbored a silent ache, you see. She loved the Sun God and dreamt about the day they would meet.

And on that day, they did meet. For a fleeting moment, the heavens held their breath, captivated by the forbidden love of sun and moon.

But alas, their union was not meant to last. As dawn approached, the Sun God knew he must return to his domain, lest the world be plunged into eternal darkness. With a heavy heart, he bid farewell to his beloved, promising to cherish the memory of their brief encounter for all eternity.

And so, the Sun God returned to his place in the sky while the Moon Goddess lingered in the fading night. Though they were destined to forever remain apart, their love would endure, a timeless tale whispered among the stars. Ever since then, the people of the Caelos Kingdom have always celebrated their love during the Sun Setting Festival.”

I just looked at him, somewhat irritated, though I couldn’t tell if it was at myself or Marisar. I had not asked him for the entire mythology, only to explain what the festival was. And he still had not done that. I was about to ask him to explain the festival when he continued.

“The festival itself is hosted once a year for two weeks. Everyone participates, and the Kingdom opens its borders to other reigns in the region.” He gurgled, and his voice went up a pitch. I still couldn’t get used to that sound. There was no water, so why did it sound like he was drowning? “Every year, the Arena puts on shows depicting historical events where slaves like us, I've heard the slaves are referred to as Meats, are used to play the side that lost. The villains. I have never been in the capital, which is where we are now, but the Arena Festival shows are well-known.”

I swallowed down the building sense of foreboding. “When did the festival start?”

Marisar shrugged. “I’m not sure. It felt as if I was in that box for so long.”

None of that sounded good.

“NO!” a man screamed, and my head snapped away from Marisar, toward the commotion. “This is not what you said!” He looked accusatorily at Chella. “You said I’d be fighting, like a gladiator.”

Chella shrugged. “You will be. If you’re good enough, you might even win.”

“The gods curse you, slaver. And your family. I hope you all bur-” The man’s slave tattoo flashed, and he folded to the ground as if all the bones in his body had been removed. Two other men stood next to the fallen body, their eyes downcast and lifeless. Defeated. All three of the men looked sickly, too skinny to put up much of a defense. Or attack. I guessed that was the reason why they were picked for the Festival.

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“Sacrifices,” Marisar whispered, his voice low enough that I could just barely hear him.

The small man with the bulbous head started shouting at Chella. “Madam Chella,” his face was turning almost as blue as Marisar’s, “please explain to me how I am to bring this man to the arena now. I certainly cannot carry him.” Chella just shrugged, turning to the rest of us.

“The rest of you get into your beds. There are wards around each of your beds to protect against other slaves. You are all warned, do not attempt to cross into another’s bed. It will not end well for you,” the giantess said, ignoring the shouting man until his face turned a shade of purple. She sighed and bent, grabbing the unconscious slave by the ankle. “Let’s go.” She dragged him to a crack in the wall and tapped it twice. A door opened inward and into the barracks; the rooms beyond were illuminated by torches many times stronger than the spheres of light attribute energy floating around us. She, the bulbous-headed man, Dralos, and the four slaves vanished down the pathway. There was a click, and the door closed. Thirty seconds later the balls of light winked out of existence, and we were plunged into darkness.

I didn’t sleep that night. Based on what Marisar had told me, I knew I’d be called up before the end of the festival. That’s what Chella had been warning me about when I chose to fight.

An hour before the lights turned back on, I finally finished my second heart ring.

“Rise and shine, Meatheads,” Darlos cackled as the balls hovering overhead flashed on and a dim white light flooded the damp underground area. I opened my eyes, still sitting on my bed with legs crossed, stabilizing my new heart ring. The center of the underground was still empty, the personal areas creating the outer rim. However, where there had been nothing by the stairs that we had entered through, thick steel bars now blocked our path, along with two crates, the insides of which I could only speculate. “I’ve brought you some presents. Over 'ere,” he slapped the first crate. “We got y'all some food. If you can call it that. And over there,” he motioned to the other crate a few feet away, “some training weapons. If ya ain’t called up as one of them sacrifices, we expect ya to win. If ya win enough coins for us, maybe we do you a lil' favor. Spice up those disgusting personal areas.” His yellow eyes betrayed the niceties in his words for the lie they were. I didn’t know what would happen if I brought in a lot of coins, but I knew it wasn’t the favorable situation the lizard slaver was trying to hold over our heads. Though by the looks on the faces of the others, others like Gronch, not everyone caught the glint in the lizard’s cruel eyes.

“What in the Gods’ anus,” a different, new voice shouted, this one female. I hadn’t realized there’d been another female slave sent to the arenas. I stood from the bed and peered around the ring of personal areas for the voice, as did many others. After a while, I saw her. Her, and the corpse which still twitched next to her bed.

Dralos tutted. “There’re always one or two of them folks that don’t listen to the rules. I don’t much care what y'all do down here, but we ain’t allowing ya to kill each other. That’s like stealin' from us. And we dun like when people try to steal from us.” He opened the first crate, dumping it on the grimy floor. A few dozen small balls tumbled out from it. Their exteriors were translucent, showing thick brown goop clomping and sloshing around inside. “Everyone gets a single ball. One. If ya try to steal it, well, you can join your friend in the shits.”

No one moved at first; though one person did eventually take a tentative step forward. I couldn’t tell who, or what, it was due to the limited light, but after seeing nothing happen to the first person, the entire underground of slaves instantly cascaded upon the food balls like starving dogs. Even Marisar ran forward to grab one of the spherical containers of the debatably edible slosh.

I didn’t move. There would be one waiting for me at the end anyway. I could tell that Dralos wasn’t done. I doubted the lizard would have come all the way to the Underground if that was all he meant to tell us. There were subordinates for that. He was here because he was taking pleasure in it and that meant the worst was yet to come.

When the number of people scrambling for food lessened, he continued.

“As many of you heard yesterday, the Festival of the Setting Sun is happening right now. Three of your compatriots fought last night. Unfortunately for them, none of them won. Fortunately for me, I already knew they wouldn’t and made some good coin!” He let out a loud, cruel haw of a laugh. “Today, we will be picking another ten of you. But, this time, with some variety.” His last words were said to the crowd of slaves. His eyes, however, never left me.

My suspicion regarding Dralos’ species was instantly confirmed. The way those yellow eyes expressed a hatred for me, the way he talked and walked, those eerie green scales. The way he seemed to want me dead the moment I reached the second heart ring.

Dralos was likely dragon-born, one of the only races in existence I knew to instinctively despise Lunaries. Which meant the more I increased my lunar prowess, the more he’d come to despise me. I needed to figure out a way to kill him and fast if I wanted any chance of marking it out of here alive, assuming I survived being selected as a sacrifice.

He called out the names of seven people, then walked around, grabbing the other two by the arms and shoving them toward the door the other slaves had left through the other day. Finally, last and certainly least in his eyes, he stopped in front of me.

“You’re last,” he said. “Let’s go.”