“Life is nothing but a competition to be the criminal rather than the victim.”

Bertrand Russel, British Philosopher

“What do you need, Smith?” asked Chief Anthony Benton as he strode through the corridors of Police Headquarters, stepping over refugees and dodging around errant children.

He forced himself to wear the confident smile that had taken him so far in life, though it was little more than a mask.

There were over two thousand Regina residents now huddled behind their walls, crowded into every nook and cranny they could find. These desperate people had arrived in droves over the past two weeks of the God Contest, and more arrived each day.

In those first few days, the influx had been a boon. They had managed to secure a two-block radius around Headquarters, though it had cost them dearly. A quarter of his officers had perished in their efforts to drive back the monsters and hold onto their small piece of safety. Benton had conscripted every able-bodied man and woman from the refugees to replenish their forces. The militia now stood watch atop the makeshift barricade around their edge of their territory, hastily constructed from abandoned cars, buses, and garbage trucks. Casualties in the militia were common, yet for every person that fell, ten more arrived at their doorsteps.

Their stories were always the same – scared people who had hidden in their homes, praying they would wake from the nightmare. In the end, starvation, illness, monsters, or simple, unescapable fear had caused them to abandon their final, desperate hold on the familiar for a chance at survival. Those who didn’t find a quick death on the monster-infested streets found their way here, into the arms of their historic protectors.

Officer Smith waited for an opportune moment before responding to Benton’s tart question. He’d learned quickly that it was unhealthy to interrupt the Chief in the midst of his contemplations.

“We think we found one, sir,” Officer Smith answered after the Chief had given a small chocolate bar to a small child and her grandmother. “An Arena.”

Benton’s mouth crested in a genuine smile. He liked Smith. In Benton’s short tenure as Chief, the officer had been a nuisance– constantly in the news for use of excessive force. Yet Benton had resisted calls to terminate him from the service, and for that, Smith had given him unquestioning loyalty. It was the combination of aggression and loyalty that Benton had suddenly found so valuable when the God Contest commenced.

“A man arrived this morning, his stomach ripped open,” Smith continued. “His family tried to loot their neighbourhood convenience store for food. His family went inside while he waited in the car, and…”

“And they never came back out,” Benton finished. “And instead of going inside to save them, he fled and made his way to us.”

“Yes, sir,” confirmed Smith. “He was delirious when he reached our wall, his guts hanging out and whatnot. He kept asking to file a missing person report.”

“I take it you persuaded this man to tell you where the convenience store was?”

“It’s in the northeast,” Smith confirmed. “We’ll know its exact location in a day or two. He provided sufficient details before he succumbed… to his injuries, of course.”

“Of course,” replied Benton. Smith always knew what was necessary. “Prepare a strike team. Hilton, Wallace, and Galloway. I’ll lead. We depart once you pinpoint its location. Oh, and include Officer Shepherd as well. Its time she earned a talent of her own.”

A sour expression crested Smith’s face. Delores Shepherd was a veteran of the service, but she’d been an outspoken critic of Smith’s use of excessive force. Her elevated morales were a detriment to their cause, yet Smith didn’t argue with the Chief. Once Benton set his mind to something, it was a rare person who could convince him to change course.

Benton dismissed Smith and returned to his office. Locking the door and shutting the blinds, he opened his office safe with his six-digit code. Inside were his firearms, five dozen boxes of ammunition he’d diverted from their communal stores, two hundred thousand dollars in now-useless cash, and a small ornate box, the contents of which were more valuable than anything else inside the safe.

“This will be my fifth Arena,” Benton whispered as he sat at his desk and lovingly stroked the flower carving on the box’s lid. His knuckled knocked on the table, a nervous habit he’d picked up years ago that came out when he was deep in thought.

He kept knowledge of god arenas they’d discovered a tightly held secret. He rotated the strike team, so no single officer grew too powerful. There was no sense letting anyone else rival him in power. There was no need to risk anyone else learning what he had learned.

Knock. Knock. Knock.

He opened the box. Inside were two silver coins and fragile scroll, yellowed with age. He’d won the scroll in his first arena – a knowledge arena – and he’d done everything in his power to keep it a secret. Ever since that day, he’d been desperate to locate a second knowledge arena, that he may learn more about the path of victory. After all, there would only be a few who survived this ordeal, and in the God Contest, knowledge was power.

Knock. Knock. Knock.

“I’m a survivor,” Chief Benton muttered. “I’ve always been a survivor, and these scrolls are the key to it all. Fire, Water, Earth, Wood, Metal. I’ll find every last one. And may god have mercy on those who stand in my way.”

Knock. Knock. Knock.

* * *

Bethany sprinted down the hallway of her childhood home, fear driving her into the deep darkness that stretched on endlessly.

The obsidian floor beneath her bare feet fractured and a fiery glow flooded from the cracks, as if unleashing the bowels of hell itself.

Photographs of her father and grandmother hung carelessly above identical bookshelves that repeated, over and over, in an endless loop as she ran from the man at her back.

It all felt so familiar.

Knock. Knock. Knock.

The knock came from behind her. She ran faster, and the photographs began to chant.

In the depths of the world lay five keys, that together unlock your fondest desire

One is of fire, of the heart, hidden power in the crowded strife

One is of water, of the blood, hidden power in loneliness

The words were familiar, but she didn’t have time to focus on them. Beneath her feet, the cracks grew, and it took every ounce of her enhanced agility to keep herself from falling as she ran.

Knock! Knock! Knock!

The man at her back grew closer. He was right behind her. If she slowed down, he would catch her and drag her back. Back to her tormented life.

The voices of her father and grandmother joined with a hundred copies of the same as the world around her filled with the terrible symphony.

One is of earth, of the skin, roaming free from chains

One is of wood, of the lungs, breathing life into the world

One is of metal, of the bones, bound in the depths

When all five are brought together, your life shall begin anew

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

“Shut up! Shut up! Why won’t you shut up!” Bethany screamed. Behind her, mountainous footsteps shook the floor, and Bethany had to leap between fragments of the floor, lest she plummet into the hell below.

She looked up and saw a ten-year-old child in blue jeans and a frilled pink shirt casually sitting on top of a bookshelf. She seemed so out of place. Brown hair tied back in a ponytail, the child’s white, pupilless eyes held a look of disappointment.

Bethany ran past her, unable to spare the moment to warn the child of the approaching danger.

The photos and bookshelves repeated the riddle in the darkness as the footsteps grew closer. The same child appeared ahead of her when the bookshelves repeated themselves.

“You can flee for all eternity and never reach the end of your nightmare,” the child instructed, as if Bethany were an errant student. “You need to see beyond its surface. See this dream for what it truly is and take control. Remember your lessons.”

“Diana?” whispered Bethany, her heart pounding. Fear clouded her thoughts, but she forced herself to take control.

She slowed her frantic leaps between the fragments of floor. The footsteps behind grew closer. Her heart felt like it would leap out of her chest.

“Breathe, Bethany,” Diane said calmly, ignoring the oncoming terror.

“It’s a dream. Just a dream,” Bethany uttered, the fog clearing from her mind. “A nightmare, but it’s not real.”

“You are close,” Diane replied. “Break yourself free from the terror, Bethany Fox, and we shall continue the lesson.”

Bethany stopped her frantic flight and took a deep breath to calm her heart. “It’s my mind. I am in control. I am its center. I am the dream,” she chanted, over and over until she felt herself gain control.

She opened her eyes and saw her father’s face, his features distorted so he filled the entire hallway from wall to wall.

“Knock. Knock…,” her father said, until Bethany snapped her fingers. The image of her father froze in place. The photographs on the wall stopped their chant and the hellscape below grew cold and silent.

“Very good, Bethany,” Diana said as she leapt off the bookshelf and strolled over to inspect Bethany’s father’s face. “God, he really is an ugly man, isn’t he?”

“Ugly on the outside. Ugly on the inside,” Bethany agreed, her heart calming as the nightmare-fueled fear began to fade. “But it’s just a dream.”

“Not just a dream,” Diana reminded her. “You must see beyond the dream, to the knowledge contained beneath its surface. Now, like we practiced.”

Bethany’s Oracle Eye began to glow, and the power of the Spiritual Bridge entered her.

The image of her father began to flicker.

“What does the flicker mean?” Diana asked, testing her.

“That it’s entirely a construct of my own emotions and thoughts,” she recited from the lessons Diana had been drilling into her over the past week. “And therefore nothing more than a distraction.”

Bethany waved her hand, and the image of her father disappeared. Despite herself, she breathed a sigh of relief.

“What else?” Diana prompted.

Bethany looked at her surroundings. With a flick of her wrist, she removed the bookshelves, the photographs, and even the walls, until all that was left was the fractured floor stretching endlessly into the darkness.

“I had this same nightmare when I first arrived in Regina,” Bethany contemplated. “The only difference between the two is the fractured floor.”

“And what does that mean?”

“That the floor is important,” concluded Bethany. “But how can cracks be important?”

“You need to open your eyes, Bethany Fox,” instructed Diana. “Consider the problem from all possible angles, as you would a riddle.”

Bethany knelt beside one of the cracks and stared into its depths.

She’d expected the stench of sulfur and brimstone, yet the air was only slightly dusty, bordering on sterile. The fiery light she had taken for hellfire didn’t have the flicker of flame, but rather a steady, artificial glow. There was no heat, and the faint sound from beneath was familiar to her.

“Is that… traffic?” Bethany muttered. “And the glow is from… stoplights? It’s a road. There’s a city beneath our feet.”

The fractured floor stretched on for miles.

“I’ll wake up long before I can search all these cracks,” Bethany said, looking to Diana for guidance.

“All angles,” Diana repeated simply, pointing towards the black sky.

“But how can I… Diana, can I… fly in a dream?”

“It’s your dream,” Diana answered with a shrug.

Bethany closed her eyes and visualized white angel wings sprouting from her back. She felt her skin begin to stretch and warp. There was no pain – only a faint tickle where her new wings touched her back.

Opening her eyes, she stretched her feathered wings wide, as if she were a preening swan.

“This is amazing,” Bethany whispered with giddiness. She flapped her new wings and soared into the air, twirling on the breeze as she rose higher and higher, until she was a thousand feet above the earth. It was exhilarating.

“You’re quite agile with those wings,” Diana praised as she soared alongside her. Her guide had no wings. Instead, she sat cross-legged on empty air and effortlessly kept up with her student. “But you didn’t need to go to such creative lengths. You could have moved yourself here with a simple thought.”

“But then I would have missed all this,” Bethany sighed with pleasure as she completed a backflip before coming to a stop beside her guide. “How’d I do?”

“Decent, for your first time,” Diana commended. “You may want to consider picking a winged talent reward if you get a chance.”

Bethany beamed with delight. “I can earn these wings in the God Contest? In the real world?” she asked excitedly.

“Yes, but not until much later,” Diana explained. “And there are multiple kinds of wings – bird, bat, sugar glider, and multiple kinds of insects. But we’re not here for a flying lesson, Bethany. You need to focus. All dreams are fleeting, and you could wake at any moment, so time is always of the essence.”

“Sorry, I know,” Bethany said apologetically, and bottled her excitement up for later. She stared down at the floor below and found herself looking at the entire city. The fractures in the floor resembled the map of Regina that Officer Shepherd had given her when she had first arrived in the city, lost and alone.

Bethany waved her hand, and the floor disappeared, revealing the entirety of the city. She could see houses, parks, shops, and factories, and the roads glowed with the red of traffic lights. Except for the roads, the city was dim and dark, save for a few brightly illuminated sections of the city.

“Curious,” Diana observed as she floated around Bethany. “You’re doing well. Keep going.”

“But this is everything,” said Bethany, confused. “It’s just a poorly lit, three-dimensional model of Regina.”

“Angles are about more than the physical vantage points, Bethany,” offered Diana. “Try advancing the dream.”

“Advance the dream? You haven’t taught me that yet,” Bethany said uncertainly.

“I didn’t teach you how to fly either, yet here you are,” smiled Diana supportively. “Don’t overthink it. Dreams are as much about instinct as intention.”

Bethany sighed. She had grown fond of her guide, but Diana’s training approach was more trial-and-error and half-answers than it was actual instruction. Bethany had asked about her methods, but all Diana said was her creator was the Goddess of Foresight and Prophesy, so half-answers were to be expected.

Bethany stared down at the city below and let her instincts guide her. She stretched out her arm and pinched the air, then twisted her wrist as if she were moving the hands on a grandfather clock.

A single, terrible crack echoed across the darkness.

When Bethany was eight, she’d stepped onto a frozen lake, only for the ice to fracture beneath her. She would never forget the loud crack that cut through everything else as the tortured lake protested her weight, or the way her stomach lurched a fraction of a second before the ice gave way and she had plummeted into its bitter cold waters.

The crack that filled the darkness of her dream was a haunting resemblance to the crack of the lake on that cold, winter day, and Bethany feared it held the same warning.

The city below her fractured, and fragments of the city began to drift apart, as if the city were Pangea torn apart. By the time Bethany had made a full rotation with her wrist, the city had divided into a thousand pieces. Five distinct quadrants were brightly illuminated, with thousands of dark, scattered islands floating between them. As she watched, several of the small islands were absorbed into the quadrants, and a dozen more sank into the depths and disappeared.

“Now discern its meaning,” said Diana expectantly.

Bethany studied the resulting archipelago in silence.

“Regina will – or is – fracturing,” Bethany eventually answered. “Not literally. I mean the survivors are joining together to different factions – thousands of them, though a few are far larger than the others. Our faction is here.”

Bethany circled her finger in the air, and the oil refinery in the northeastern corner of the city – the place that had become her home – was highlighted. It was nestled along the great stone wall that now surrounded the city. Right now, on the second floor of the head office building, Bethnay lay in her office-turned-bedroom, dreaming this dream.

“We’re a small faction – there are only nine of us, including three children – so our light is dim. There must be a thousand such groups like that, but these five…”

Bethany highlighted the five brightest fragments of the city – the Regina International Airport, the University of Regina, the Royal Canadian Mounted Police Academy, the Legislative Building, and Regina Police Headquarters.

“… are the ones where survivors are gathering in droves to seek shelter. That’s why they shine so brightly. More people, more light.”

Bethany soared closer to Police Headquarters. Its territory stretched two blocks out in all directions from Headquarters. A small figure stood atop the building. He wore a pressed police uniform and carried himself with confidence and charisma, yet there was something in his demeanor that made Bethany’s stomach churn.

“He’s the leader of this faction,” Bethany said. “And the light is the territory they control. It’s the same with the others.”

“Why do you dream of this?” prompted Diana to drive the lesson home.

“Conflict,” Bethany whispered. “Soon, the city’s resources will run out. Rocky, Emily, and I have been scavenging for the past week, and already it has grown more difficult. Every day, there is less and less to find. These larger factions must have thousands of mouths to feed. What happens when scavenging no longer sustains them? Will the city turn on each other, or band together?”

“The history of your species tells you which is more likely,” Diana said sadly. “You need to be prepared, Bethany Fox. War is coming. You must know which are your allies, and which are your enemies, if you want to survive what is to come.”

A resounding crack – ten times more powerful than the one which fragmented the city – ripped apart the starry sky above them, and Bethany felt a chill far deeper than any icy waters could convey.

“If any of us want to survive,” Diana murmured, her pupilless white eyes fixed on the smallest fragment of sky as Bethany’s dream ended. “For war comes for us all.”