Page 91 of Empire of Wrath and Ruin
The distinction was everything. I thought about that first day—Livia, traumatized by her brother's death and the abuse she’d suffered since, thrown into an arena where survival seemed impossible. I remembered her refusal to give up even when every rational thought screamed surrender. The way she'd looked to me for protection, for guidance, for someone to tell her it would be all right.
I'd tried to be that for her. I'd tried to shield her from the worst of it, to teach her what she needed to know to survive. But somewhere along the way, the roles had reversed. She'd become the one protecting others, the one offering hope when everything seemed lost.
I laced my bracers with steady hands, watching her secure a sword at her side. She looked every inch the gladiator she'd once been—but something far more besides. There was a gravity to her now, a sense of destiny that transformed her from warrior to leader.
She wasn't just fighting for survival anymore. She was fighting for the belief that people could be more than what their circumstances tried to make them. That slaves could become free, that the powerless could change the world, that a frightened child could grow up to be hope incarnate.
"I've loved you since you were small enough to hide behind my cloak," I said, the words coming out rougher than I'd intended. "I've spent half my life trying to protect you from a world that wanted to break you."
She looked up from adjusting her armour, meeting my eyes with that direct gaze that had never wavered, not even in our darkest moments.
"Now I'm terrified," I continued, feeling the weight of truth settle between us. "Not because I think you'll fail—I've never been more proud of anyone in my life. I'm terrified because I love you too much to lose you, and I know that what's coming might take you away from me."
The others had gone still around us, understanding the significance of the moment. This wasn't just about tactics anymore. This was about love and fear and the knowledge that everything we cared about hung in the balance.
Livia stepped closer, reaching up to touch my cheek with one armoured hand. "You never lost me," she said softly. "Not when we were slaves, not when we fought for our freedom, not now. You taught me that family isn't about blood—it's about the people who choose to stand with you when the world falls apart."
She smiled then, and it was like watching the sun rise over a battlefield.
"You're not losing me today, Septimus. You're watching me become everything you believed I could be."
I pulled her into a fierce embrace, armour clanking against armour, feeling the solid reality of her in my arms. The childI'd tried so hard to protect was gone, replaced by a woman who could stand against empires and not be moved.
"Then let's go show them what we learned in their arena," I whispered against her hair. "Let's remind the Empire what happens when slaves refuse to stay chained."
29
The arena's gates yawned open before us like the mouth of some primordial beast, and I walked through them feeling more alive than I had in months. The whispers that had plagued me for so long were still there, scratching at the edges of my mind like rats in the walls, but for the first time since we'd found that cursed crystal, they felt... manageable. Distant. As if the presence of my companions had built a wall between me and the voices that wanted to tear my sanity apart.
The heat hit us like a physical blow—oppressive, stifling, thick with the smell of sand and sweat and the metallic tang of spilled blood. Above us, the crowd's roar crashed down like thunder, sixty thousand throats raised in a sound that seemed to shake the very foundations of the Empire. I could feel their excitement, their bloodlust, their eager anticipation of violence.
I felt... connected.
These men around me—Marcus, Antonius, Septimus, even the prince and Sirrax—they were still largely strangers to me. I'd joined their cause, fought beside them, but I hadn't earned the bonds of brotherhood they shared. Tarshi. My brother. My twin.We had a connection, a bond. My father might be lost, but I had a family now. Here, walking across this sand with Livia at my side, I felt something I'd almost forgotten existed: the possibility of belonging.
It was her presence that did it, the steady warmth of her beside me cutting through the chaos in my mind like a beacon. She'd chosen to stand with me despite what I was becoming, despite the darkness that leaked from my skin like smoke. If someone like her could see something worth saving in me, maybe—just maybe—I wasn't completely lost yet.
We might actually do this, I thought, and for the first time in months, the hope felt real rather than desperate. I might actually be able to save them.
The arena stretched out around us, massive beyond anything I'd imagined. Tiers of marble seats rose up on all sides, filled with citizens in their finest clothes, who had come to watch innocents burn for their entertainment.
But it was the centre of the arena that made my breath catch in my throat.
Cages. Hundreds of them, arranged in neat rows across the sand like some grotesque garden. Each one crammed with Talfen prisoners—men, women, children pressed so tightly together they could barely move. I could see their faces through the bars, hear their voices raised in a low keening that cut through even the crowd's roar. Families clinging to each other, mothers holding children, the old and young alike waiting for death to claim them.
Above us, dragons circled like living storm clouds, their wings beating in perfect synchronization. Even from here, I could see the collars around their throats, glowing faintly with the magic that bound them to the Emperor's will. With the crystal still only a few yards from me, my abilities were magnified, and I could hear the silent screams that pierced the air—not roars oftriumph, but cries of anguish from minds trapped in their own bodies.
The rage that flooded through me at the sound of their suffering was unlike anything I'd felt before—not the cold fury of the shadows, but something burning hot and righteous. These dragons were being forced to participate in genocide, their minds screaming against the atrocity they were about to commit while their bodies remained enslaved to another's will.
I could end their torment. I could free them all.
"Taveth." Livia's voice cut through the haze of anger, grounding me. "Stay with us."
I nodded, forcing myself to focus on the plan rather than the overwhelming urge to tear the crystal from Antonius's pack and attempt the ritual immediately. The crowd needed to see first. They needed to understand what their Emperor truly was before we revealed the truth about his dragons.
The sand beneath our feet was already stained dark in patches—blood from previous games, soaked so deep it would never wash clean. I'd seen arenas before, but nothing like this. Nothing that spoke so clearly of systematic slaughter elevated to an art form.
My hands began to shake as I felt their suffering wash over me in waves. The shadows responded to my distress, writhing around my fingers like living things, and I had to clench my fists to keep them from becoming visible to the crowd. Not yet. I needed to get closer to the centre of the arena, closer to those cages, before I could attempt what might be the most dangerous magic ever worked.
