Sinister status

*Unknown words* Once again the voice booms through the arena, I don’t know what was said, but the light of the torches are fading a bit. I would have thought it a coincidence if the words spoken did not sound like the whispers I heard when I began sinking in the floor.

I am not the only one to have thought of that as 6 of the others quickly inspect the floor to see if they are sinking. The other 3 are talking between them while remaining wary of me and the others. What I can understand from that is that the 6 that looked at the ground were abducted with the same method as mine, while the 3 to my left either knew each other before or decided to unite themselves.

It is what I wanted to do too, but a thug was there to find shit with me and caused me to nearly kill him. That is not the best plan to form a group, the thug in question is seated against a wall.

The words said through the arena are becoming weirder and weirder, I don’t know how to describe the sensation though. It is as if it is becoming more and more complex, syllables are more and more complicated to understand, but not because I can’t understand them, but rather because the brain is not used or not supposed to understand it. A bit like foreign pronunciation.

But the more time passes, the less light there is, and it is becoming a concern as le torches are still burning without issue, it is the light they emit that seems to become lesser each second.

The center of the pit was already dark, but now I can’t see it all because of the darkness. Wait. I think I saw something there, in the middle of the pit. I crouch to better see if something is there with a background light, and indeed there is. I see forms moving, just barely visible, but the diminishing light prevents me from seeing more than some outlines until I can’t see anything there anymore.

I am near a torch already, I stand up and keep an eye for the center, I don’t know what is there, but it was not before the robbed guy began incanting whatever those words are. Time passes, and after what must have been 20 minutes of chanting, the torch lights up to my own height in front of me and on my sides.

The rest of the arena is just utter darkness, I barely see the torches across the arena, the thing in the center must somehow absorb it from the air. Suddenly there is a scream, which belongs to one of the women, and it is quickly followed by other shouts and screams.

I can only guess as to why they do so, until I see a tendril coming from the darkness. I can’t see the limit between tendril and the air around it, the thing is so dark it absorbs the light around it. It is as if the thing is made of shadows.

But that is not the case, I kick some sand towards it, and sure enough the sand hits it. It’s not some illusion then, I take my screwdriver out and prepare to dodge if the thing suddenly rushes me.

Instead of doing so, after having been hit by the sand, it stopped for several seconds before descending to the sand and sinking in it like a snake would. I see the trail of sand rising where it passes through. Is it trying to get to me unseen?

I crouch a bit, changing my grip on the screwdriver to be able to plunge it through the tendril at a moment’s notice. I wait until the tendril’s trail is close enough to stab the trail. The tendrils shake and unearth, trying to grab me, but I step on it and force the screwdriver to rip through one side of the tendril.

The sound that followed was… terrifying. I don’t know what that thing is, but I made it angry. Several tendrils sprout from the one I just stabbed, they divide with no regard to volume and separate like worms doing mitosis at 300x speed.

In but a moment I am grabbed, arms, legs, waist, I am covered in as much tendrils as a mummy would have bandages. I am lifted and brought into the darkness, no doubt towards the thing to which all these tendrils belong.

Once again I feel my heart racing, my ears are ringing, my hands are sweating, which makes my grip on the screwdriver difficult. I don’t resist the grab, I don’t move at all until I sense the motion stop.

I close my eyes and focus on my breathing, smell and the sensations on my skin. When I smell the odor of blood and feel a breath on my cheek, I move as fast as I can, the movement is sudden enough to surprise the thing in front of me, and I feel my screwdriver stabbing deep into something.

The tendrils nearly crush me from every direction, I try to keep my grip on the screwdriver to dig a burrow in the flesh of this thing, but I fail when I am not only pushed away from it, but also launched through the air and impact the wall of the pit.

The back of my head and my back hit the wall, I am dizzy and have some back pain, but nothing seems to be broken. I stand up, but the dizziness makes me unable to keep my balance without using the wall to stay upright.

I am close to a torch, but still in the darkness. My ears are ringing so much I can’t even hear myself breathe. The dizziness gets worse though, and I can’t stay on my feet. I place a knee to the ground, as ready as I currently can to fight my death. I am having vertigo now, and I feel myself shaking, I think I have more than a benign head trauma.

I touch the rear of my head and feel blood there, that’s not a good sign. My vision is beginning to fade despite my eyes being wide open. I see a tendril slowly creeping to me on the wall to my left. I don’t turn my head to look at it, I observe it with my peripheral view. I think I will lose consciousness soon, so before it happens I will resist as much as I can.

I wait a bit and then hurry to grab the tendril and scrape it against the wall as hard as I can. There is a bit of its black blood on the wall, so I damaged it, but not as much as I would have wanted. And in no time I am forced against the ground and immobilized. My body hurts as I am once again flung, but this time against the ground face first.

I nearly lose consciousness at that moment, but the pain keeps me awake for a bit longer. Wait, why am I hurting from everywhere? I am sitting against the wall now, I feel cold, hot, sore, and thirsty. I look at my hands and legs, my body is lacerated, and I don’t know why until I see the tendrils coming back.

Those are the same as before, except for the fang-like thorns along their length. A little heads-up on the death by a thousand cuts, huh? I think to myself before finally letting the exhaustion and anemia take my consciousness.

-

The preparations for this decade’s ritual were simpler than I thought. It is a great honor to be the one to organize the ritual to find a host for a young Teneren. I will also be the one to teach the host, and if it is a young one I could probably make an useful servant of them.

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The first batch will be ready soon, I do hope the host will be human though, it would be a hassle if it is once again a Lamius. I wait some time for all 10 of the soon-to-be sacrifices to be brought here, but I am surprised when two seem to have an argument. It happens sometimes, but when one headbutts the other and crushes his windpipe in swift movements, I am left without words.

The ritual to summon is made so we only get innocent people, those who never committed murder. Those who kill sentients are tainted and unsuitable hosts for Tenerens. To not ruin two candidates at the same time I signal the two guards to go and prevent the death of the one on the ground. If he can survive until he is killed by the Teneren there will be no problem.

The irony of the situation is lost on me when the one to injure the other actually saves him from his imminent choking. The surprise of having someone who can both take and save a life in a minute makes me look at him closely.

His clothes are simple, all black, big coat and pants to resist the cold. His shoes are weird, but seem adapted to the cold too. His face is average, and the way his expression stays blank is destabilizing, even the guards seem to feel it. Instead of taking the guy to the ground like they should have, they are trying to push the other to act first. What cowards, I signal them to just return to their post, and they do so without hesitation.

Nothing of note happened after that, the last preparations for the ritual is readied, the last candidates for this batch are made to enter, and the pit is closed. I announce the beginning of the summoning and the summoners soon get to work. Many resources are given through portals to other worlds, some are burnt and some thrown between the realms' limitations.

It takes less than half an hour to finish the chant, and the abyss that is the pit is now darker than a moonless night. We can hear the creams of the candidates down there, the first to die. The only one who will not shout before dying is no doubt the one which got his windpipe crushed.

The second batch is ready, we will need to send them blindfolded, only the first batch has the honor of seeing the summoning happen. The others will just live the effects to their last. But just before the next group is sent in, a growl sounds in the stadium. Not a human one.

Could one of those of the first batch actually hurt the Teneren? How could it be? Even the just born ones can eradicate a whole knight party, so how could someone unarmed hurt it? A face flashes through my mind, the guy who nearly killed another candidate. Could he? But how?

A second after the growl’s end, a *thud* is heard at the same time as a *crack*. I try to peek to see if I can see something down there. But even after using {See Through Darkness} I am unable to find anything, not even the shoes of what is down there.

If the Teneren was angered, be it because someone hurt it, or did anything else that could anger it, we have nothing to do about it. There is just less chance of the Teneren choosing a host this time. It is generally bad for us, but we can’t really do anything about it.

I give the signal to send the second batch of candidates, and seconds later they scream and shout for help like those before them. We prepared as many candidates as there are days in a year, that is to say 410. And we need to send them all in before the spell’s effects wear off and the Teneren is forced out of our world.

Nothing of interest will happen before the end of the spell anyway, those who gathered here already wanted to see the ritual and its activation. Some are already gone, they may come back to see if a host was chosen or not, while others stay here to chat to pass their time.

I must stay here as I am this year’s coordinator, my role is mainly done. I prepared all that was necessary for the summoning, prepared candidates, and in case a host is chosen, all is ready to start the initiation.

I gesture to one of my employees to go prepare two rooms, they go do so while I signal to let the 7th batch enter. It will take at least 2 hours to finish here, the candidates will all be used up by then, but the spell will only end around that time. And I hope the Teneren will be appeased by then, because I don’t want to have to shoulder the consequences of returning an angered young to its realm. I could be sent there just to appease them, and I don’t fathom it as something pleasant.

I signal the batches to go one after the other, making sure the previous one has had time to be examined in its entirety. While I wait before sending in the next batch, I think about the benefits I could acquire from this, as well as what I will do if none is chosen.

If I get a host, then my rank will rise to that of an elder in the coming years. I could gain access to information reserved for hosts and the clan's core members. If I do it right, I could achieve a peak 6th or even enter the 7th grade! With this kind of might I would become one of the powerhouses of the clan. I could push my researches higher in priority and have resources sent to me.

And if no host is chosen, my efforts will still be rewarded, but even then I would still have difficulties to achieve mid 5th grade. I would still be a senior member in the clan, but that would be it. I would have more chances trying to find resources outside for my research than staying here.

I let my mind wander to wait for the spell to end, the last batch was sent some time ago, and I can sense the spell begin to destabilize. Light slowly regains its capacity to exist in the pit, the torches are the first to be visible again. Some are already extinguished, others are nearing their end.

A few seconds later the red sand is visible underneath, it is no longer the whitish yellow it was before. The Teneren must have been really angered to massacre the candidates in such a manner.

Instead of bringing them to its core and eating them big bites, it seems to have mauled and shredded them before doing so. If not, the blood would have pooled in the center of the pit instead of being nearly everywhere.

I can now spot some forgotten pieces of limbs here and there, a finger there, an ear here. The darkness from the Teneren’s world has yet to subside from the pit’s center, I hear people coming back, not minding the noise they make while talking with their friends.

Seconds slowly tick away, darkness let’s place to light at a slow pace, but I am more than happy when I see the feet and then legs of someone appear from the darkness. It is said that the association with a host is… painful. It is no wonder that the one experiencing such a thing would faint.

I exit before the darkness completely disappears to go down as soon as possible, the door is opened and I am accompanied by the guards to take the host to the infirmary. I stop when I see the face of the host, it is him, the one from the first batch. The one nearly killed another candidate.

I stop completely, letting the guards do their work. one of them did not put enough energy in his force armor and lost an arm because of the Teneren. The rest still take the host with them, and I walk behind them.

We don’t know what the criterias are for becoming a Teneren’s host. All we know is that they need to be young enough to have opportunities, not have killed a member of their race, and not to be crippled.

What I know though, is that hosts are often taken from the last candidates. The clan has existed for centuries, and the hosts' information are registered to help prepare better batches. I read the registries and I know nearly all of the hosts came from the 2 last batches sent in.

It is not the first time a host comes from an early batch, but those recorded to come from them are said to be highly attracted to destruction. Some of them even hurt the clan by killing other members or destroying parts of our territory.

It seems I have drawn the short stick here, if I am not careful with how I bring up this host, I might lose my life instead of getting to live like a king.