He grunts as I embrace him. 

“I knew it, I knew I wasn’t the only one.” 

For a moment the curse, Kork, the prophecy, it all goes away. 

“Yeh, there are a few earthlings knocking around.” The door bangs with a hefty knock. He starts pushing me towards a side door, the runes above read; 'Those who are about to die entrance'.

“Most drown fast and try to drag you with them.” 

“Am I drowning?” I ask.

“We shall see.”

“What the hell man? Help me get out.” I squirm in his tight grip, but his Neuo far surpasses mine.

“Nah brother, tried that once already. Didn’t work out.” He pulls down his high collar to reveal a gnarly scar wrapped around his neck.

I grab my dagger and he snaps back instantly. His cloak ripples as several long appendages unfold out until he resembles Vishnu. Except not all of the limbs are human.

“Do this right man, that eight-legged freak will put eggs in you. I’ve seen her do it.”

With another bang, the handle starts to turn.

“Then give me something,” I beg.

“There’s no running away from this or I lose my head. So shut up and listen.” The rogue grabs the door and offers it to me.

I’ve survived daemons, the Depths, hunters and heroes. Accepting my fate, I nod as the goons come in to usher us on.

The rogue hauls me through the contestant's door, down the stairs and into a webway towards the arenas. Bars and gates separate the gladiators from each other. In the darkness, I hear rasping and deep growls. 

He glances over his shoulder, before whispering to me. “It’s called the Legend pit because of the unpredictability of each fight. The symbols on the walls create events that can shift a fight in an instant.”

“Which coloured symbol should I go for?”

“I wouldn’t know, they’re random for each fight. Do you have any movement abilities?”

“No.”

“Okay, that’s very bad. Kork can manipulate the way gravity affects him. Expect him to be moving fast. If he gets a hold of you, he will literally tear you apart. So quick feet kid.”

“Seriously? That’s your best advice, quick feet?”

“There’s always the York’s seal. But Kork might be a nicer way to go.”

“Why? I need options.”

“If you can last two minutes, a York House insignia will dangle in the centre. They don’t want good fighters going to waste so it’s a chance to yield. All you have to do is touch it and the fight is over.”

We round a long bend. I peer into a cell beside us. Yellow gems shoot towards me, serrated mandibles clash against the metal. My escorts don’t even flinch and continue to drag me along as the horse sized centipede watches us leave.

So that’s why they call it The Zoo.

“Easy, so just survive till then and grab it."

“It’s a binding contract to the raid's vanguard, strictly enforced.”

“Recruitments down this year then?” I nervously joke.

He shakes his head.

“I’ll grab it, end the fight then skip town,” I say almost giddily, hope remerging.

The rogue gives me a serious look. “Listen to me. You’ll be locked in their dungeon until the raid, then marched out on the frontline in shackles. I’ve been on raids. I’ve seen people caught by sentient plants to be used as voice boxes. Spells that freeze you in time while your mind still works, trapped with the same view forever. This world is an oasis compared to the lands over the edge. Kork will be quick, he’s not a bad guy.”

“I’ll try to remember that while he’s pulling my spine apart.”

I can hear the migrating crowd as they find their seats, like a marching band playing inside your attic. My face begins to sweat, my stomach starts dancing. For once the intense curse helps me focus on something else, distracting my anxiety.

We reach the end, huge wooden doors separating me from death. A portcullis comes down to block my retreat. 

“Don’t take the seal.” The rogue says from behind the metal bars.

“I won’t,” I say.

If it means I’m trapped in a cell until the raid then I can’t save Piia and the tribe. I won’t fail them, I can’t die here.

Something crawls from under my arm, Honey tickles my ribs. With everything going on, I'd forgotten where she sleeps.

“Can you look after my friend?” I ask him.

He takes Honey, eyeing the horrible barnacles consuming her head.

“If I must.”

Trumpets blast as the heavy doors swing out before me. A wash of lights and the roar of the crowd floods me like a worm being dragged into the sunlight.

“...herdddddd!” Yells the announcer.

Damn, I missed my introduction. I walk out on the straw laden floor, the cleaners must be on minimum wage for most of the blood and parts remain. The bottom of the walls are especially dark with stains. The symbols are placed centre of six of the oxidised metallic surfaces. 10 ft up I see the dangling legs of the audience yelling down towards me.

I unsheath Riptail and hold it out in the air, my lack of renown plays out with a chorus of boos. 

“Rut your mums and stupid your Order you plebs!” I shout back.

The boos grow louder. A bottle shatters by my feet, quickly followed by a high-pitched scream as I man hits the arena floor. They take that rule quite seriously then.

“Our unknown tonight will be facing a true Yorkton Elite! Gracing us with his presents in Undercity!” 

“He was banished here!” I yell.

“A marvel so dominant in the city that even the lands’ force can’t hold him down!”

“It’s called gravity! You uneducated smuk!”

“Our Keeper, our Legend! Kork the Defier!” 

The crowd goes mad as the opposing doors swing open. His iridescent armour shines in the spotlight. The dragon's heads on his shoulders are matched with a third that consumes his fathead.

Kork lifts a giant two handed warhammer off his shoulders and slams it down. I feel the immense mass of the weapon as the ground shakes. Weaponless, his arms spread like wings.

“Let the match begin!” Cries the announcer.

I lift Riptail before me, about to cut my palm along its blade when Kork falls towards me. His legs simply leave the ground as if the wall at my back is now the floor. Leaping right, his outstretched arm brushes against me. Thank Mother I wasn't wearing the poncho or I'd be in his clutches. 

Spinning on the spot, I face my opponent who’s now standing sideways on the wall. My brain struggles to process the surreal image as physical laws are ignored. He waves to his fans while I shimmy backwards to the closest symbol. I slash my hand.

Searing blade burns from the fresh blood and catches Kork’s attention. He sees my intentions and drops across the pit again to cut me off. His flight path takes him over the top of the fallen man, only noticing him for the first time, he grabs him mid fall. 

As I predictably dodge in the same manner, Kork tosses the petrified man towards me. Affected by his abilities, he falls as if from height. Quickly gathering speed, I can only turn and brace in the last leaf fall. Riptail’s crimson edge severs the man in half, his two parts hit the walls to erupt the bloodthirsty crowd.

A gong echoes overhead. “The shape of the land!” The announcer yells.

I look and see the dead man’s upper body splattered against a bronze symbol. Standing on the ledge above, a toned man wearing a gauntlet of stone braces himself in a yoga stance.

Kork, being an experienced warrior, takes this distraction to hit me with his full weight. Knocking my sword away and crushing me against the smeared wall. Winded, I repeatedly slap the brown symbol. Over and over, why isn’t anything happening?

Through rainbow fangs, he speaks to me. “A speck like you shouldn’t mock one so great. I forgive your mistake and reward you by keeping my promise.” 

His armoured fist falls like a meteor at my head. 

I crane my neck as if I can dodge it while lifting my arm to intervene.

It snaps back against the wall, sinking into the metal as bones crunch. 

But they aren’t mine.

Kork screams. Releasing me to fall back to the trembling floor. My vambrace is decimated and falls to pieces, revealing the dense coral growth underneath. Unaffected and still itching.

I gather my sword on the run, putting as much distance between me and the now furious gravity giant. 

He falls like an overweight dragon to catch its prey.

Just as he gets close, I drop flat on my back and lift my blade high.

Sparks containing the entire colour spectrum spray off his scales but my blade does no damage.

Kork sweeps up his warhammer on the fly and immediately rebounds for another pass. No longer playing for the crowd. I whip Riptal into full extension, the neon trails surrounding me in a circle. As he gets closer I flings the blade out, only to be deflected by a huge chunk of rock. 

Thud.

A cloud of dust billows over the thick slab that shifts a few inches from the big man’s impact.

“Ha! I hope that hurt, ya fat heather.”

The molten groove on the boulder, left by my blade, explodes as his hammer shatters it. His helmet is cracked open to reveal his rage.

Bollocks.

I turn and run. The arena shifts and changes as my legs pump through valleys and obstacles that erect from the ground. I see the yoga man’s gauntlet radiating an orange glow as he works his Will. 

The sounds of destruction chase me through the rocky gauges as my opponent gives chase. His weapon ploughs through the solid rock like its spring snow. I reach a narrowing valley, a tiny crack at the end offers my only exit towards the wall. Breathing in, my chest just fits. I feel a spray of dust and small shards rain down on me as my cursed arm gets stuck.

Looking around desperately for a solution, a wild laugh echoes through the passage. 

“Trapped like a fiend!” He mocks. Realising he can’t get through, he continues smashing a path towards me. I feel like cattle in a meat processor, the industrial wheels of death rolling closer. I pull my Riptail and say a quick goodbye to my arm. The bronze edge saws into my tricep to trigger my Searing Blade, a limb for my life is a good exchange.