The Arena was carved deep into a cavern, far below the main floors of the Castle. A roughly circular chamber with a high, domed ceiling.

  Aria paced back and forth, the feeling of being free of her cage, her chains leaving her with an infinite sense of energy. How badly she wanted to move.

  Her eyes scanned the jagged, black basalt walls. In-between its high peaks, her audience watched from the catwalk.

  Lord Marshal Dane stood out, with his piercing blue eyes that watched her carefully. His delicate, and pale face appeared as displeased as ever, and she wondered if he had ever smiled.

  Next to him was the Dark Lord, laughing softly as the Rune Woman spoke. It was a surprising sight. Aria rarely saw the young woman, and her coming and going from the Castle always seemed to be shrouded in secrecy. Even amongst the Night Lord’s inner circle, she kept her hood over her head and low, her face painted with black runes.

  All to hide her identity, no doubt. ‘Why’, wasn’t something she understood. It wasn’t as if Aria had anyone to tell, and she doubted many of the Night Lord’s human or daemon dregs had much to gain by running to the Light and telling all.

  Unless they are merciful, she thought. But mercy was a game for cowards.

  Aria heard the familiar sound of the enemy gate opening across from her. The slow, clanking grind of chains being pulled as the door lifted.

  An excited chatter broke out from the Night Lord’s Conclave. A sweep with her eyes revealed a number of high-ranking members; High Legates, Praetors, and Justicars— all eager to watch her perform.

  She took in a deep breath, steeling the adrenaline that coursed through her.

  What will they have me slay today?

  The Night Lord had made it clear the day she was brought there against her will that she was not his captive, but his ally— and so his wealth of knowledge using the Dark, as well as Dane’s abilities with blades, were open to her from the beginning. Her studies, from combat to knowledge, were all she had to hold onto in life, and the moment her opponent stepped onto the black sand of the arena, she would unleash all she had learned.

  The spectators erupted with excitement as her opponent came into view. The Dracolisk snapped its jaws, attempting to launch forward but denied by its muscled Handlers that yanked back on its chain.

  I know how that feels, Friend.

  Aria ceased her pacing, facing her opponent with both swords drawn.

  It was no taller than a large hound, with a sleek body covered in dark scales that shimmered with a slick iridescence. At the end of its lithe frame was a serpentine tail tipped with venom. Its draconic head shook wildly as its Handlers began to remove the chains. A forked tongue licked out, its green eyes staring at her with focused intensity.

  Eager for my blood, are you?

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  She noted its horns, one of which looked charred where the top half had been cut. It was a Daemonifer fresh from battle.

  I will take great pleasure in killing you.

  The chains dropped, and all of her senses narrowed to the threat in front of her.

  The Dracolisk dashed to its right, dissolving into an inky cloud.

  Aria’s eyes peeled around the arena, her feet moving her in a circle before noticing a faint shimmer.

  There you are!

  She dashed forward as it dropped its camouflage to unleash a barrage of green fire.

  With Shadow Step, Aria dodged the flames, appearing at its side in a blink. Her swords lashed out in a flurry of strikes, meeting the hard exterior of the Dracolisk’s tail as it blocked her attacks.

  With an enraged roar, the ground flooded with misted-green miasma, withering around the sand, seeking to burn and rot her skin.

  Aria leaped over its back with a flip, dashing backwards as the Toxic Mist just nipped her feet.

  Landing outside of the mist’s range, she enacted Wraith’s Deflection— the dark barrier appearing and absorbing the mist.

  More flames were spat in her direction, and the Dracolisk gathered a dark cloud around its body.

  Where do you think you’re going?

  She danced forward, her thin and long blades turning into a dark blur as she parried several clawed attacks.

  With her flurry of strikes, she removed each claw, the sound of its pained cry so loud it vibrated through the sand. The darkness gathering around her was all that was visible as she moved as if jumping through time, dancing and slashing from one side to the next.

  She came to a stop just in front, her back towards her latest victim. A hushed silence overcame the crowd, followed by the distinct sound of the Dracolisk falling apart, one slice at a time.

  Its head landed with a final thud, just near her boots.

  Applause lit up the arena, each of the high-ranking members of the Dark Lord’s Conclave on their feet and shouting with glee.

  Her eyes found the Night Lord, and she raised a brow.

  A Dracolisk? Really?

  She could kill several at once and not even break a sweat.

  He inclined his head before whispering something to Rune Woman at his side.

  Never once in all of her trials and showcases of skill did she receive praise from him—much less Dane— but if he were taking her outside for the first time, perhaps she had finally impressed. It felt like an achievement, but the thought that nothing good would come of it lingered, and soured any personal gratification.

  Tomorrow.

  She would have to do something. Escape would certainly be the first thing on her mind, but how much freedom would she really get? The Dark Lord would not take such a risk unless he knew her chances were little to none.

  What does he have up his sleeve? She was scared to find out.