Page 28 of Ironhold, Trial Two

The creature’s powers surge towards me, tendrils of power flowing into me. Images surround me, in scenes of terror. I see my mother as she was when I was taken by the soldiers, knocked down. Only this time, they do not settle for merely striking her. They descend on her with swords instead, gutting her in front of me.

I cry out at the sight of it, and even as I do so, a sword descends towards my head. I barely weave aside from it in time.

Another image forms, of Rowan and Alaric fighting, and somehow I know they're fighting over me. I see them tear at each other, inflicting grievous wounds. I see them fall dying to the sands. Again, a physical attack comes behind the mental assault, forcing me to parry and run.

Image after image assails me. I am back being punished in Ironhold. I am walking on my way to it, only this time when the young man runs, I am the one dragged from the caravan to be killed for it. I see and feel myself devoured by beasts, executed by soldiers, killed a hundred different ways. The creaturepossessing the gladiator batters at my mind with fear and hate and every insecurity I've ever had.

It shows me an image of myself surrounded by a horde of beasts, but they are not attacking me. Instead they are rampaging through the city, and I know I am the one who has sent them. I watch them tearing into people, and I know I am the one who has instructed them to do so. It shows me an image of me causing so much death, and I scream with it.

I know what it's doing now. Its magic is pushing further and further into me. I can feel my heart beating faster and faster with the horror of it all. I know that this is how it kills, using raw terror as a weapon against those it hunts. And when it has killed me… it shows me those images too. It shows me it wearing my flesh, shows me walking and fighting. It shows me an image of me cutting Naia’s throat, controlled by it completely.

If it hadn't shown me that, maybe I wouldn't have the strength to push back against its attack. As it is, though, I throw everything I have at the creature. I can feel power welling up from inside me, and in that moment, I do not care if it is light or dark or something in between. All I care about is stopping this… thing.

Power flows into the creature and it flees in the face of it, flowing out from the body of the gladiator it has taken. That body crumples to the ground, dead before it hits. Dead long before he stepped into the arena.

The creature flows away from me, and I can feel its fear alongside my own. I know it is afraid of what I am, of the power flowing from me. It acts wildly now, without thought, heading towards the stands of the arena, and the watching crowd.

They scream at the sight of it coming for them. Some have magic, and try to use it, but the creature is moving quickly. It conjures more illusions, images of death and destruction fillingthe stands. I know that it is lashing out blindly, doing whatever it can to cause chaos.

Lady Elara must be here somewhere. Could she help stop this? Will she? I cannot see her, but I hope that she will act soon, because I’m not sure if I can do anything. My power is still pouring out towards the beast, and it is still fleeing from me, throwing terror around it as if trying to confuse the trail followed by a hunter.

People in the stands are trying to flee now. I see a couple of people knocking aside others as they try to get away, and I know it will only be moments before the whole crowd stampedes and they crush one another.

Then Lady Selene stands, holding her arms out wide. Power seems to flow into her, and the wind around her whips her hair this way and that. She brings her hands together, then flings a beam of raw power at the creature.

Its scream as it dies is filled with the horror of a thousand people. It melts like mist before the heat of the sun, burning away so that there is nothing left of it but a few wisps curling up to dissipate in the sky. The whole arena falls silent in the wake of that strike, the illusions fading, the sense of horror flowing away.

In that silence, Lady Selene speaks, pointing at me. “Bring her to me.”

Chapter Seventeen

They make me wait in a locked room somewhere beneath the Colosseum, iron barred doors preventing me from leaving.They have taken my weapons.There is nothing in here, and the only light comes in through a grate high up on the wall. Another grate is located in the middle of the floor.

It is the kind of room where they might kill me and leave no trace.

That thought fills me with fear, and that fear brings back all the images the creature I have just fought threw into my head. They were illusions, they must have been, but they felt real. I saw my friends, my family, being killed over and over, all my deepest fears being brought back to life.

But now I have a new fear: that I will be executed for what I just did. I know that the Aetherian Empire has no love of beast whisperers, and my actions back in the Colosseum resulted in the wraith-like creature being let loose on the crowd, lashing out at the citizens of the city.

I'm not sure how long I have to wait in there. Outside I can hear the sounds of the matches continuing, in an attempt to return events in the arena to normal. The crowd has been terrified, some of them have even been trampled and attacked, but the organizers seem to think that enough bloodshed on the sand will wash that away.

In a lot of ways, that's the point of the games. You have enough people enough violence and enough entertainment and they will ignore everything else.

I pace my prison, looking for a way out, but there is none. If Lady Selene decides to have me killed, then my only hope will be to try to fight through whatever guards are there. Without my weapons I doubt I will have a chance. I feel like one ofthe animals trapped in the beast pens, not knowing what will happen next, caged and contained in spite of my power.

It seems like forever before the door opens, and two figures enter the room. One is Lady Selene. Up close, she is shorter than me, but she gives off such a sense of power that it's easy to forget that. Her eyes have violet irises that seem to carry the promise of her magic. Where most people in the city are skilled in one or two minor talents, it is clear she is a true mistress of magic.

Lord Darius is the other figure to enter. He looks angry, his face set. It is the expression he has when he's about to order a punishment with as little mercy as a rock.

“So,” Lady Selene says. “This is the beast whisperer. Your name is… Lyra, correct?”

Of course, she knows my name. It has been announced to the whole Colosseum.

“Yes, my lady,” I reply.

“You are the reason that a mind-mist wraith was set loose on the spectators of the colosseum.”

“That wasn't meant to be any kind of wraith,” I insist. “I was meant to be fighting another gladiator.”

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