The overseers had a sick sense of entertainment.
I learned that the morning after the thirteen races arrived.
The bell rang. The grey paste came.
But instead of the mines, we were herded to a different part of the compound.
A pit.
A circle of stone walls with torches burning at the edges.
The guards stood at the top, looking down like gods watching insects fight.
The slaves were pushed inside. Humans. Beast kin. Scale touched.
All of us together in one space.
"New game," the head overseer announced. His voice echoed off the stone.
"Winner gets extra rations for a week. Loser..."
He didn't finish. He didn't have to.
"First match. Crowley. Erson. You're up."
Two figures stepped into the pit.
The first was a demon with Red skin and Horns curving back from his forehead like twisted branches.
His name was Crowley. I heard the guards whisper it with fear and respect.
The second was an angel. White wings. Feathers missing in patches.
But still white. Still bright. His name was Erson.
They stood at opposite ends of the pit. Not looking at each other. Not looking at anyone.
"You two know the rules," the overseer said. "Fight till one can't stand. Winner gets privileges."
Crowley cracked his neck. "I don't need privileges."
Erson smiled. A gentle smile. The kind that made my skin crawl.
"Then why are you here, demon?"
"To settle something."
"Ah." Erson's smile widened. "That."
They moved.
No warning. No signal. Just violence.
Crowley lunged first. His claws came out black, sharp, dripping with something that smoked when it hit the ground.
Erson dodged. Floated back on his broken wings. Not flying. Gliding.
"Fast," Crowley said.
"Fast enough."
They circled each other.
The crowd of slaves pressed against the walls.
No one wanted to be near the center.
I watched from the edge. My hand on the pick I had hidden in my trousers. Just in case.
"You know what your kind did to mine," Crowley said.
"I know what your kind did to mine."
"Then we're even."
"We're nowhere near even."
Erson attacked. A blade of light formed in his hand. Not metal. Something else. Something that hummed when it moved.
Crowley blocked with his claws. Light and darkness clashed. Sparks flew. The slaves screamed. The guards cheered.
They fought for what felt like hours. Maybe it was. Maybe time stopped in that pit.
Crowley landed blows. Deep scratches on Erson's chest. White feathers fell to the ground, turning grey as they touched the dirt.
Erson landed blows. Cuts on Crowley's arms. Red blood mixed with the dust.
Neither fell. Neither yielded.
"You're stronger than I remember," Crowley said, breathing hard.
"You're weaker."
"I'm older."
"We're both older."
Erson stepped back. Lowered his blade of light.
"This is pointless."
"Agreed."
They looked at each other. Something passed between them. Understanding. Or maybe resignation.
"We'll finish this another time," Crowley said.
"Another time."
They walked to opposite ends of the pit. Sat down. Refused to fight.
The overseer's face turned red.
"Fight!"
No response.
"FIGHT!"
Crowley picked at his claws. Erson preened his feathers.
The overseer cursed. "Fine. Both of you. Special quarters. No privileges."
They didn't care.
The rest of the matches were less interesting.
Beast-kin against scale touched. Stone skin against shadow walker. Slave against slave.
Humans died. Other races died. The guards cheered.
I watched. Memorized faces. Added names to my mental list.
When it was over, the survivors were herded back to the mines. Work didn't stop just because people were dead.
In the evening, I went back to hunting Shadow Walkers.
I had just killed one when I realized another had been following me. Waiting. Watching.
It struck from behind. Its claws sliced across my back.
Pain exploded through me like fire. I dropped to my knees, blood pouring down my spine.
Then
Fire.
Raging, golden fire.
Makena appeared like a storm, her blade already drawn.
She moved faster than I'd ever seen her a blur of golden light and fury. One strike. Clean. Precise.
The Shadow Walker fell. Dead.
She dropped to her knees beside me, her hands pressing against my wound.
"Stay with me, little ghost. Stay with me."
Her golden eyes were wet. Her hands were shaking.
But she held on.
And so did i.