“A single twig breaks, but the bundle of twigs is strong.”

-Tecumseh, Shawnee Chief and Warrior

It was the strangest orb they’d come across. Its carapace resembled a giant hamster and was comprised entirely of bags of chips, moldy hot dogs, plastic straws, and chocolate bars – a collection of junk food that it has formed from the contents of MacDonald Street Convenience Store, located a few blocks away from the refinery.

The orb patrolled outside the tiny corner store, winding its way around three cars parked outside its doors. The vehicle’s owners were nowhere in sight, but blood spackled the snow that covered the parking lot.

Bethany shuttered, a chill that had little to do with the icy wind blowing off the mountains.

They were just trying to survive, like we were.

“It has the weakest armor that I’ve come across. You?” Elias asked as he crouched down beside Bethany to study the methodical movement of the oblivious orb.

Bethany glanced at the muscular farmer in his early twenties. He still wore his simple white T-shirt, half-hidden beneath his unzipped plaid jacket. His black cowboy hat covered his short-cropped brown hair, and his stained blue jeans had seen better days. An iron sword from the Arena of Ares rested at his hip, though Bethany knew he could materialize one of pure flame if he desired.

Bethany caught herself staring into his deep emerald eyes a little too long and looked away before he noticed. She heard Emily’s quiet laugh behind her, as her friend say Bethany’s extended gaze.

“They’re… um… usually made of concrete or metal, though the first one I fought was leaves and twigs, and three of us fought one made of pasta. That’s when we first met,” Bethany rambled, her hands suddenly clammy. Emily snorted with amusement, and Bethany elbowed her in the ribs.

“A pasta monster?” Elias asked curiously.

“Yah, in the… in the same grocery store as the Arena of Ares.”

“This God Contest is filled with insane shit. Well, this one is definitely weaker than a pasta monster. I think it’s as good as we’re going to get.”

Bethany nodded her agreement, and Elias signaled the others. Rocky darted from their cover, Harmony and Brandon in tow, and joined them behind the dumpster.

The twins were bundled up in their winter clothing – a mismatch of sweaters, toques, mitts, and boots they’d scavenged from homes over the past week. Priyanka – opposed to their plan to take the twins beyond the safety of the refinery – had taken over an hour to dress them, before Elias had grown impatient with the grandmother and shuffled them out the door.

Anjali had stayed behind to keep her mother-in-law’s mind occupied and to watch over the now three-year-old Jaya. Bethany did not envy the emotional rollercoaster that Anjali was living through with her magically aging daughter.

Jaya’s speech, motor skills, potty training, and temper tantrums were all progressing at an astonishing pace, keeping up with her apparent age. However, once Jaya started to talk, they had quickly learned the magic had another effect.

As Jaya aged, the magic was implanting false memories in Jaya’s mind to fill in the gaps in the life she was missing out on. The toddler had memories of a father that did not exist – a father that was not Anjali’s husband. She would ramble about events that hadn’t happened or toys she never had. She was living another life as she aged – one that remained unseen by those around her – and, often, the memories of her two lives did not sync up.

They were at a loss, helpless in the face of a magic they didn’t understand.

Priyanka had taken over caring for Jaya while Anjali went hunting with Elias. No one blamed Anjali for spending time away from Jaya, though Bethany knew guilt ate away at the mother. Bethany saw the pain and fear in Anjali’s eyes when she saw her child. The infant she had known was gone, and in her place was a stranger.

“Do we get to fight that one?” Brandon asked as he peeked around the dumpster and spotted the junk food monstrosity. He shook his prosthetic leg to dislodge the snow from his boot.

The excited eleven-year-old removed his toque, ran his fingers through his short-cropped blond hair, and swung his backpack off his shoulders. He put on his Saskatchewan Roughriders hat and pulled out a pickle jar filled with eight-inch steel nails that Anjali had found in a refinery maintenance shed.

Elias has been teaching Brandon to shoot the nails with his telekinesis – a magical rifle – and over the last week Brandon’s accuracy remarkably improved.

I wouldn’t want to fight him, even with my enhanced abilities. The kid’s going to be a force to be reckoned with.

“I don’t want to fight it,” countered Harmony. Her single blond braid swung across her back as she shook her head in denial and buried her face into Elias’ shoulder.

“You’re such a scary cat, Harmony,” her twin brother teased.

“Shut up,” Harmony said, her words muffled in Elias’ coat. “I’m not scared. I just… don’t want to lose my friends.”

“I know, Harmony,” Elias said sympathetically. “But you can draw them again when we get home. You need to help your brother with this, okay?”

Harmony looked up at the farmer and reluctantly nodded. She took off her pink glittered shoulder bag and took out three drawings she’d folded in half to fit – a leopard, a monkey, and a knight riding a horse. Each was drawn on a different colored construction paper. She pulled out another dozen smaller drawings – each an eagle the size of her palm – from a side pouch.

Rocky peaked over her shoulder. “You’re getting so good at drawing, Harmony,” he praised, admiring the improvement between each eagle. “I bet the next batch you make will be even better.”

Harmony smiled as she basked in the big man’s compliment and laid the drawings in three neat rows at her feet.

“You know what to do?” Bethany asked encouragingly as she knelt at Harmony and Brandon’s side. “We’re right here if anything goes wrong, but we want you to take it out yourselves, as quickly as you can.”

“We know,” Brandon told her with the indignation that only an eleven-year-old can achieve. “We’ve practiced this at home. Stop babying us.”

“Okay, okay, I trust you,” Bethany smiled, admiring the kids’ bravery. In the wake of their mother’s death, thrust into a world of violence and hardship, they’d had to grow up quickly.

Bethany knew what that was like, and her heart broke for them.

“Ready?” Brandon asked his sister, who nodded hesitantly.

Harmony hovered her hands over the rows of drawings, palms down, and closed her eyes. One-by-one, the drawings peeled off the page like stickers – two dimensional constructs under Harmony’s control. Her friends.

The dozen palm-sized eagle drawings flew around Harmony’s head, which made the child giggle. The older, less refined drawings struggled to stay aloft, their wings askew. One fell and crashed into a snowbank, water soaking into its paper form.

Harmony picked up the drawing-given-life and placed it gingerly in her pocket. It released a quiet squawk of appreciation for the rescue.

Brandon unscrewed the lid on pickle jar, and telekinetically lifted two nails into the air, ready to fire.

“Go!” Harmony commanded her paper army, and her friends headed straight for the trash hamster.

The eagles arrived first, soaring around the monster’s head. They dove into its carapace of garbage, grasping chips and chocolate bars and moldy hot dogs in construction paper talons and ripped them away.

The trash hamster swatted at the fliers, tearing two in half with claws fashioned of empty pop cans. Their torn remains flittered down to rest upon the layer of snow that covered the parking lot, lifeless once more.

This book was originally published on Royal Road. Check it out there for the real experience.

Harmony gasped in outrage. “You monster! They were my friends!”

She pointed aggressively at the hamsters, and the eagles accelerated their efforts as the monkey, leopard, and knight arrived to join the fight. The monkey and leopard jumped onto the hamster’s body, ripping and tearing away bits and pieces as they climbed. The hamster struggled to keep up with the onslaught, but its armor was torn away faster than could be reabsorbed.

They climbed until they reached the creature’s heart – where the orb lay beneath – and they began to tear a hole in its chest. The hamster shifted its mass so the sturdiest of the trash reinforced its core, as it bit down on the knight’s head and tore it away.

The knight collapsed, lifeless.

The eagles joined the monkey and leopard, ripping and tearing until they’d created a small hole in the carapace and exposed the orb.

“Now Brandon!” Harmony shouted.

With a flick of his wrist, Brandon shot the two nails towards the beast. The first missed by an inch, but the second struck the edge of the orb and impaled in its glassy form.

The orb shuttered in silent agony, and it changed its focus from its paper attackers to the two children behind the dumpster.

Bethany formed her hammer of light, ready to defend the children if it attacked.

It never got the chance. Brandon did not slow his assault on the core. Two more nails, and two more after that, flew at the orb. Three missed, imbedded in its carapace, but the fourth struck home. A fracture appeared across the orb’s surface.

His final two shots sealed its fate.

The nails struck the dead center of the orb, and the children gave a whoop of delight as it shattered it into a thousand pieces. The hamster carapace, robbed of its pilot, collapsed into a pile of trash that scattered over the snow.

“Yes!” Harmony exclaimed as she pulled her brother into a tight embrace. Brandon put up a token resistance before finally giving into his only remaining family.

“You two were amazing,” Rocky praised as he gave them a meaty thumbs up. Emily and Elias joined in their celebration as Bethany strolled over to the pile of trash, her hammer still formed in her hands.

Reflected in her hammer’s light were two silver Emporium coins settled atop the snow.

She picked them up, and, as she turned back towards the dumpster, she saw a shimmer on the door of the convenience store.

The shimmer of a God Arena plaque that was not really there.

G.A. 1 – 27, Omoikane

Now we know why the store hasn’t been looted. They entered – they didn’t come back out. Omoikane… he was the god walking with the Authority when I was in God Home. His chief advisor.

Bethany tried to act naturally as she headed back to the celebration. Handing over the coins to Harmony and Brandon with a smile, her eyes flickered to Emily, who saw the silent message and nudged Rocky with her foot.

“You two did so well that the game gave you each a coin,” Bethany applauded, and the children beamed with pride. “Why don’t you talk to Elias about what you want to spend it on, and Emily, Rocky, and I will do the boring work of scavenging this place. “

Harmony and Brandon didn’t hear the last part. They were already bombarding Elias with endless questions as they clutched their hard-earned treasures tightly.

“What’s wrong?” Emily whispered when they were out of earshot.

“The convenience store. It’s an Arena,” replied Bethany softly as she bent and pretended to sort through the orb’s debris. “Omoikane. Did you read about him?”

“He’s a Shinto god of wisdom and intelligence, often asked to provide counsel and guidance to other gods,” Emily recited flawlessly, the knowledge absorbed from the stack of library books they’d acquired. Emily spent her evenings reading to fuel her Infinite Recall.

“A knowledge arena. It must be,” Bethany surmised. “If we win, we could get another riddle – another clue to the location of the orbs. We need this.”

“But we agreed to keep the riddle a secret,” Emily reminded them. “The more people that know about the riddle – about the endgame – the lower our own chances of survival. Are we… are we prepared to risk that for the others?”

“And if we are… are the kids ready for another Arena? Their mother died in the last one,” Rocky added.

They sat in silence as each weighed their options.

Only five victors amongst two hundred and fifty thousand people. Will our allies now still be our allies at the end? An early kindness could doom us as competition grows fierce.

It was a thought grounded in self-centered survival, but Bethany was a pragmatist at heart. She’d had to survive on her own since her mother died. Yet the straightforward logic seemed flawed, even without questioning its morality.

Bethany’s mind drifted to her last session with Diana – floating above Regina as she watched the city fracture into a thousand pieces. A thousand different factions all vying for control and survival. She thought of the figure that stood atop police headquarters and the feeling of dread that had washed over her.

What good is having the orbs if they can be easily taken from us? The three of us can’t do this alone. Our friends – our growing family – at the refinery… we must be able to defend ourselves, not only from the monsters of this world, but from other players. We need to get stronger. We all need to get stronger.

“They should come with us,” Bethany declared, and as she said it out loud, their desperate need for powerful allies solidified in her mind. “If it’s a knowledge arena, and we get a riddle, we’ll deal with the implications. But this game could take years, and we won’t survive long enough to find the orbs without strong and trustworthy people around us. The sooner we build up those allies, the better off we’ll be. And I trust them.”

But how long before the nine of us at the refinery are no longer enough? Where do we find more allies? Zee… Abigail… we haven’t seen them in a week, but will they be friend or foe when we see them next?

Emily and Rocky reluctantly agreed.

“I’ll talk to Elias,” Rocky said, getting to his feet. “Priyanka is going to throw a fit when we get back.”

* * *

“Is everyone ready,” asked Rocky, his hands clammy. “We’re stronger and more experienced than we were a week ago. We can do this! Does everyone have your backpack – food, water, first aid?”

“Yes, sir,” Emily and Bethany said in unison with mock salutes. Harmony and Brandon giggled, still filled with confidence after their victory. Elias rolled his eyes playfully.

“Weapons?”

Emily clenched her fist, and her metal claws appeared. “Never leave home without them!” she laughed. Brandon jangled his jar of nails, and Harmony held up her favorite pencil.

Bethany felt for the ball-peen hammer at her waist – her safety blanket when times were dark.

I feel like my whole life has been lived in the dark. The only light I’ve seen has been the light I’ve found in Regina. In my new friends.

“MacDonald Street Convenience. Who would have thought this place would be an arena?” Rocky said as they approached the front door. “Emily and I come here on our breaks for the Refinery Special. Three bucks for a hotdog and pop, with change between us for a bag of chips to share. Kamal, the owner’s teenage son, always adds onions on mine free of charge.”

“Maybe that’s why I didn’t kiss you before now,” teased Emily, smiling. “Stinky onion breath.”

Rocky grinned, swung her around in his arms, and gave her a deep kiss. “Then I guess I’ll need to make up for all the kisses I missed,” he said, his voice filled with affection.

Harmony sighed at the romantic display while Brandon’s face contorted with disgust. Bethany playfully gagged, and Emily smacked her on the shoulder.

“You just wait, Ms. Fox, until we find a man for you,” Emily whispered in Bethany’s ear. “Maybe a handsome farmer with a fiery… sword?”

Bethany’s heart fluttered. A relationship was a distant wish, long since buried under the tragedy of her life. A relationship mixed with the God Contest like oil and water.

But Emily and Rocky have been so happy this week. At least this death game is working out for someone.

As they crossed the threshold into the Arena, Bethany quickly snuffed the thought out, anxiety settling heavy on her chest as her foot fell upon the worn tiles.

They entered into the unknown, and who knew what they would find inside.

* * *

Officer Delorus Shepherd stared out the window as the police vehicle headed north to MacDonald Street Convenience. Her gun felt heavy on her hip as they sped past abandoned homes and the monsters that patrolled the streets.

Despite the collapse of order in the city, she continued to wear her full police uniform – the short sleeved blue dress shirt under a bullet-proof vest, both worn from two weeks of unending chaos. Her police badge – a circle of golden leaves with a crown and bison and wheat sheaf-marked shield – was still attached prominently to her vest, though as her colleagues fell to the horrors of this world and refugees flooded into their territory, the badge was beginning to feel out of place at Headquarters. She felt like a stranger in her own home.

Delorus caught her reflection in the window. The wrinkles that had started with middle age have grown more prominent in the past few weeks, and the deep bags under her eyes displayed the stress she had carried on her shoulders as she protected the barricade and led patrol teams into the city for supplies. Her toned muscles were sore from constant action, and her red hair and freckles – which gave Delorus found gave her a kindly appearance that helped her bond with members of the public – now seemed faded and frayed.

The man beside her coughed, and Delorus turned to look at him. He was a large man – a muscular bodybuilder that had arrived with a pack of refugees last week. She thought his name was Max Galloway, but it was difficult to keep track of all the unfamiliar faces that now lived in the nooks and crannies of Headquarters. All she knew was the Chief had taken a liking to him, and Max had quickly found himself in Benton’s inner circle.

Behind them, following in a second car with their supplies, were Officer Adrian Wallace and Kim Hilton, the latter of whom Delorus had arrested six times for breaking into businesses, and who had been sitting in their police cells on a seventh charge when the God Contest started. How a woman like Kim Hilton ended up on Benton’s strike team was beyond her understanding.

“Captain Benton, where are we going?” Delorus dared to ask. Sergeant Smith – whom Delorus had little respect for given his history of using excessive force – had plucked her off barricade duty half an hour ago, but had neglected to tell her why.

“You don’t need to know that, Officer,” Sergeant Smith spat, not bothering to hide his disdain for the woman. “Just do what you’re told.”

“How can I be prepared if I don’t know what to prepare for?” Delorus challenged. She was tense, her instincts on high alert, as she looked in the rear-view mirror and into the Chief’s eyes.

There was a flash of annoyance in Benton’s eyes, but it was quickly replaced by a false gentleness that could have fooled most people.

Delorus was not most people. Decades of police work had trained Delorus to observe the little things all around her. Interrogations taught her to catch lies hidden within truth. In her off-hours – which grew fewer with every passing day – she listened to the whispers that echoed through the hallways of Headquarters. Whispers that spoke of the dangers of the world – and of disappearances amongst those sent on missions for the Captain.

There was something foul brewing in her home, and Delorus intended to find out what it was.

“Now, Sergeant, Officer Shephard has every right to know,” Chief Benton began with false cheer. “Tell me, Delorus… what do you know of God Arenas?”