Young Writers Society

Lyrth was terrified and did his very best to hide it. After sheathing Vendryck, the temporary joy that had come with a battle faded, and the fear and despair that came with this place doubled. The gigantic humanoid mass of darkness didn’t help much either.

He knew the giant of darkness floating before them had been Harry, but somehow they felt very different. Was this his true form? Or was it another being that Harry was the vessel to? Either way, it was clear that Lyrth and the others were very much at the mercy of these two siblings.

But strangely, he felt the tiniest bit comforted as he peered closer at the dark titan; still, Harry’s apparent signature color remained, crackling through the mass of black, and shining persistently out through the darkness being’s eyes. His friend hadn’t gone completely. At least, he hoped so.

Lyrth nearly jumped out of his skin when a powerful voice began speaking in his mind, "The gate is opened. Frost, step through first. Felix Orestika, you are next. Zolyrth Dustkarn, you may follow. The Icy shield will keep you alive, but jump quickly if you wish to remain that way."

He assumed Frost was Jennifer, because of the whole ice powers thing. But what about Rune? Jennifer soon answered his question, but it struck him as odd that the darkness being hadn’t addressed Rune directly as they did with him and Felix. His wonderings were interrupted by Felix jumping into the now dark, seemingly bottomless entrance.

Lyrth stared apprehensively down into the massive pit. He glanced back at Rune worriedly, wondering if it was a good idea to just leave him collapsed on the ground up here all alone. He resigned himself to sticking with the plan and reluctantly walked out onto the ice bridge. He tightened Vendryck’s sheath, praying it wouldn’t come loose in the fall, and jumped, squeezing his eyes as tight as he could.

Wind buffeted his face as he fell, somehow making him even more cold than before. He fell for so long that he acclimated to the situation, and opened his eyes. Not that it mattered much, since all he could see was pitch black. Suddenly, Lyrth felt himself slowing, as if falling into a million goose-feather pillows, until he came to a complete stop.

He attempted to look around, but his nightvision had not yet adjusted. Lyrth gazed in the direction he assumed was up, deciding to wait for the others before moving around at all.

Jennifer watched as Lyrth also made the jump and she breathed a sigh of relief. This was one of the parts she was worried. Inside the maze, things would be a lot easier until they made their way to the actual ending. That was the second thing that they had to worry about.

She turned towards Rune, the only one still standing there and sent him another mental message.

Okay, now I'm going down, and as soon as that is done, the shield will weaken, just don't freak out, it should keep you safe long enough for Harry to transform back, and then Harry will take you through the regular entrance with the lava pit. You're secret should be safe, at any rate no one downstairs will see you didn't use the door.

With that, Jennifer let herself fall. She could've dived down, but she could use the tiny bit of extra time to take a much needed moment to calm The Frost. The last thing she needed to do was accidentally assume her true form and vaporize the trio they'd worked hard to protect this far.

Soon, she was hitting the slow falling spells and she glided down to a step, spreading her wings slightly to maintain balance.

"We're almost in the maze, hold on for a few minutes, you two while Rune and Harry make their way down. Harry's got to quickly transform himself back. "

The Darkness watched as Orestika and Dustkarn made their way down. Now, they had to transform back without causing reality to have a meltdown. This would be fun. The Darkness, concentrated, allowing the energy that formed them to slowly dissipate out and form a small funnel cloud. Soon their eyes began to glow brightly, and a blinding light spread out across the entire plain as they turned into world's brightest lighthouse.

And then the feeling of reality at his fingertips vanished, and soon the Hydranian body that Harry used on a daily basis reformed, sucking the darkness back into itself like a high powered vacuum cleaner and soon it was Harry floating in his normal form, flapping his wings to stay airborne. Below them, the door began to close.

"Rune, jump, on the count of five. If my calculations are correct, you will the first stage of this door, three nanoseconds after it closes and fall normally through it like any of these souls would. I hope you trust me cause those souls will be coming back very soon.

As he said, it Jennifer's shield, which had begun cracking slowly, completely fizzled, leaving only a rapidly melting ice bridge.

"Five, four, three, two,one..."

Rune somehow managed to get to his feet when Jennifer told him what to do next. His body felt light, and the entire scene felt so distant. Rune had to ground himself in the moment by watching Harry's transformation and listening to his instructions.

He made his way to the very edge of the ice shield as Harry started talking. When the shield cracked and Harry counted down, Rune forced his legs to get ready to jump.

Harry got to zero.

Rune jumped.

Harry watched as Rune managed to get through just as the gateway closed. He breathed a sigh of relief. If that timing had been missed up by even a tiny bit...he probably shouldn't be thinking that.

Bracing himself for the lava below, Harry let himself fall. The heat stung a little, it always did, but he was far too used to it to bother reacting. The cold, on the hand was comforting. It reminded him of his first home, a long time ago in a place far away from this hellscape. And then before he knew it, he was bouncing on top of the metal spikes. The instant kill switch also went off.

He felt the familiar tingle of the electric backlash of the kill switch failing to register a soul to sever and then the prickling of the metal. As many times as people had tried to stab him, that was a feeling Harry was not going to ever get used to. He opened a mini portal through the twenty seventh dimension and dropped down and through the portal into the maze itself. As he'd expected it was still in the state of being a giant black hole of nothingness but he could see the dark tunnel reading to the maze's first ring was slowly forming.

"So, here we are, at the start of the maze. We're finally in this thing. So, yeah, pretty simple to get through this part, we just have to complete the maze and at the end, we can do the procedure to get you guys to the regular land of the dead, and from there we can open portals that can take you through, without killing you," said Jennifer.

"Yup, so, there's going to be seven levels to this maze, this first two will be quite easy, they're meant to be pretty easy challenges, the next two will be a little more tough, but also passable, then number five and six get to the point of being called near impossible but its still doable. The last one though, uhh, its designed to be impossible, getting through that is what will decide whether this is a success or not. But we'll cross that bridge when we get to it. Literally in this case," said Harry. "Also, keep in mind, the maze is sentient so the challenges are likely to reflect memories of your past, not necessarily bad ones, just places you guys now, and challenges suited to your abilities. There's not telling whose memories it will pick for which challenge, but it will be one of you three."

"So, let's get going then," said Harry. He went first in the small corridor. The familiar sensation of passing into a pocket dimension rippled through him and then he was standing in some sort of arena.

When Harry dropped from above, Lyrth followed his eyes to a dark tunnel. His forehead wrinkled in confusion, and he strained his eyes trying to remember where he had seen it before. The memory was cloudy, hard to recall. He was distracted by Jennifer and Harry explaining how the maze would work. Lyrth felt the tiniest spark of pride in his chest- he had made it this far.

"So, here we are, at the start of the maze. We're finally in this thing. So, yeah, pretty simple to get through this part, we just have to complete the maze and at the end, we can do the procedure to get you guys to the regular land of the dead, and from there we can open portals that can take you through, without killing you," said Jennifer. Lyrth nearly cracked his neck, turning it so quickly to look at Jennifer. The land of the dead… perhaps the answers he was seeking lay there. Even more, motivation to get out of this damned situation.

“Also, keep in mind, the maze is sentient so the challenges are likely to reflect memories of your past, not necessarily bad ones, just places you guys know, and challenges suited to your abilities. There's no telling who's memories it will pick for which challenge, but it will be one of you three,” Now Harry was speaking. Lyrth swallowed nervously. He’d had enough of stirring up the past outside of the maze.

Even as that last thought swirled through his mind, the memory related to the tunnel entrance clicked into place. Lyrth’s heart sank. How many times had he been dragged from that tunnel, bleeding and barely alive? How many times had he stood, newly patched up, in front of that tunnel, begging with the guards not to make him go? Well, the begging had been temporary. Once he realized that all he’d get for it was a blow that should have killed any ten-year-old who wasn’t Lyrth, he had stopped and tried to focus on his strategies for staying alive. Truthfully, it was only luck, his natural drow battle craze, and the magic Orfin had used to curb his sunlight sensitivity that kept him alive through those six long years.

Still denying that this was even a possibility, he raced after Harry through the tunnel. Instantly, he was bathed in intense heat. He stared up at the sky. As it had always been. Mercilessly blue, no clouds to offer the sweet hope of rain. The sun beat down cruelly as if it was reminding us of our place. Filthy, lowly slaves. Gladiator is a generous term for you children of the soil, you children of dirty blood. When you die, I will burn your bodies away into nothingness. Lyrth had imagined it screaming those words down at him more than once. He slowly lowered his eyes from the sky and gave in to the mix of feelings rising within him. This was it. “The Crimson Arena…” He said breathlessly.

The battleground itself was an oval shape, two hundred and eighty feet long, and one hundred and fifty feet wide. The floor was stone, but it was covered in a few inches of sand. If you looked closely through the sand, some of the stone was a dark, ominous color in the shape of little pools.

The walls, also made of gray stone surrounding them, were fifteen feet tall. There were two exits, the one they had just come from, and one directly across the arena, which was blocked by bars. Spikes dyed red and turned rusty jutted out from the walls, waiting for some unlucky soul to trip backward. In between those spikes, life-saving weapons and armor and healing potions were mounted. They were put there to taunt them. The only way to survive the arena was to get a weapon, but if you ran for one, and someone shoved you off balance and into a spike, it was all over. Lyrth felt his stomach churning as he remembered the triumph of ripping Vendryck from the wall, and how he had shoved someone’s still warm body impaled on a spike out of the way, so he could get back out onto the field. He hadn’t known Vendryck’s story when he picked him; he had just thought, as a ten-year-old does, that it looked cool.

Beyond those walls, tiers of seating rose. Now, just as they had been then, the seats were filling with thousands upon thousands of spectators. In a few minutes, they would be seated, and begin demanding the blood they paid for. Above them, the arena had covering to provide the visitors with shade. They only extended to the end of the seats, leaving the gladiators vulnerable to the elements. If you looked at the walls behind the last spectator seats, you would see massive statues of gargoyles and lions and dragons, sneering and snarling. As a boy, Lyrth had peered up at them, wishing that they would come alive and kill all the people in the stands to set him free.

A strange rush of excitement and horror flooded his veins. The person he had been in the arena had not been someone he was proud of. The person in the arena had to make some choices that had chipped away at his sanity and his morality. The person in the arena had come to love the killing. Lyrth hated that person, hated him more than he hated his captors, more than he hated his mother, more than he hated the faceless spectators even.

The person in the arena had never left Lyrth- he had stayed hidden, for when Lyrth stumbled and needed to be someone more to save his life. The person in the arena and Lyrth were one- and he hated it. And he loved it. That was his greatest shame, his darkest secret. He had learned to love battle. To love violence and blood and the hideous glory of being the last one standing on the field, and hearing the spectators roar for more, for more of him. It felt like he could never escape the monster that he had been in this arena. He felt that he deserved this endless torment, for not truly wanting to escape that monster.

Lyrth scanned the floor of the arena again before his eyes stopped on one bloodstain near the middle. It was smaller than the others. He moved quickly and quietly over to it, and knelt down. Squeezing the pendant around his neck so tightly that it almost cut into his fingers, he pressed his right palm into the bloodstain. “Jiak promikse. Jiak promikse jiak’ll gimb lat agayn. Naog mattern nalkren gujat khe taks.” The orcish rolled off his tongue with an agonizing bittersweet feeling.

He stood up, dusting the sand from his hands as he made his way back to the entrance where Harry was standing. “This is the Crimson Arena. It’s from my memories. We had better be on our guard. Nothing good has ever happened here, my friend.” Lyrth smiled sadly as he called Harry a friend. It was partly truth, partly Lyrth hoping it was still true. The giant of darkness that Harry had transformed into had shaken him, but he hoped that the person he spoke to now was still the Harry that Lyrth was beginning to see as a friend.

Rune had survived the fall.

Before he had time to decide if Harry and Jennifer were going to do anything about his secret, the group moved into the first part of the maze. Before he saw what it was, he tried to guess what his own challenge would be. The cult, maybe? The woods surrounding it? The maze could turn his current quest into a challenge if it wanted to be especially difficult. Finix and Ignis knew he hadn't made much progress with it-

They stepped into the arena.

As Lyrth gazed at the arena with recognition on his face, Rune scanned it for anything that seemed familiar. Nothing did. This had to be Lyrth's challenge, and he hated how relieved that made him feel. He had never like gladiatorial combat. It put the work of monster hunters on display in a way that had always felt wrong. Even a necromancer knew treating death as a game never ended well.

"Are we going to be fighting something?" Rune asked. He still felt weak from their last battle, but he had to help Lyrth however he could.

As Felix fell he felt a sudden jolt as he hit some invisible force causing his fall to slow. hitting the ground he walked into, a sunny day in the arena?

glancing around he saw Rune and Lyrth, walking over to them he continued looking around the great stadium
"Are we going to be fighting something?" Rune asked

"I'd assume so." Felix answered, "none of this rings a bell in my memory so I suppose this must be from one of you?"

The arena began to get more and more detailed the longer they stood there, and Harry could clearly see that it was affecting Lyrth the most as he whispered a name, probably remembering whatever this place was. Judging by the expressions Lyrth's face was going through, this was not a happy place. Nor did its name sound particularly friendly either.

And then Lyrth touched something in the middle and made a promise. It wasn't the language he usually spoke and Harry almost felt like it was wrong that he was hearing this. He decided bringing that up was definitely not something he should be doing. And then Lyrth introduced the place.

“This is the Crimson Arena. It’s from my memories. We had better be on our guard. Nothing good has ever happened here, my friend.”

Harry couldn't help the smile in response. Lyrth was taking the image of his true form a lot better than most. That he could still call Harry a friend was not something that happened too often, especially when mortals were concerned.

"Well, let's try and change that around today then, friend," said Harry, with a wink. "I have a feeling this challenge should be one of the easier ones y'all have to run into today. Although I do get what you mean. This is merely the reflection of your memories, a place that the maze manifests, none of this is truly real. But even the image of this place does reek of...not great things."

As if on cue, the challenge they would have to face arrived, or more like the challengers that they would have to face made their appearance. Twenty identical looking armored beings. Harry instantly recognized them as constructs of the maze themselves, apparently the guardians inside the maze itself would not be needed for this challenge. That was an interesting decision on the part of the maze, but on the bright side, it meant he know knew exactly what they were going to have to do in order to beat this challenge.

Jennifer stood behind Harry as the beings stepped out from the walls of the arena, warping out of it like they were somehow all part of the wall itself. They stood at just around seven feet tall, and appeared to be made of something like marble although she knew very well, that was far from the truth. They were clad in full armor, which was quite predictably midnight black, and in the style of ancient combat armor you'd find on a young planet like Earth. They all carried gleaming four foot long broadswords complete with wicked looking edges.

"Okay, that's not quite what I was expecting, but uhh, this should actually be not too bad for us," said Harry, "what we've got here as maze constructs, these things are pretty much like light projections that you can pretty much pass right through besides the swords and the hands. Those are very real, and will definitely hurt you. So, in essence, to get past, we have to disarm them of those swords. There's no other way to get rid of the constructs, so don't waste time trying to blast through them or do anything to injure them. Best way, is to use any of the millions of disarming techniques, and uhh, don't get hit by those swords...they will do some damage."

"Yup, the maze is starting out with something it doesn't do too often, looks like its time for some old fashioned combat here, but at least its pretty straightforward," said Jennifer, "I hope you guys are all packing a blade of some sort, cause you're going to need it." She drew her twin daggers as she did see said that. They were a pretty unusual design for daggers. Eighteen inch long curved blades, that were startlingly pink. The grip was made of sklarion hide, also dyed pink, and the hilt was in the shape of a large red rose. Most people would mistake it for a ceremonial dagger of some sort, but the serrated blades of those daggers had seen more combat than all the armies of the current universe combined.

"Well, its a four to one fight," said Harry, "that's a little unfair. For the maze anyway. We have a bit of advantage I'd say. Now I say Lyrth with a pretty wicked blade. That's a very beautiful sword you have there, and I think Felix was doing something with knives, but Rune, do you have one of those, cause I would not recommend going into this fight unarmed, cause you know, unlike the remnants from earlier, these things are just light, you wouldn't be able to control them. And I do happen to carry a backup knife."

Harry turned to face the constructs and tapped his palm, the familiar feeling of his swords sheathed form sliding into his hand. It didn't look like match, just a long thin metallic tube with a small button embedded into it. He pressed the button.

The weapon sprang to life with a delightful hiss as it grew to its full two and a half feet. It had always been a ridiculously light sword, and not having used this particular weapon for combat in a few years now, he was pleasantly reminded of how much more mobile this was compared to his much heftier main weapon. The cyan blade glowed with the runes emblazoned across it. Writing in Ancient Hydranese that spelled out its name: Carciluvana etra iciclasa. The Frosted Shadow. It was one of the few blades of its kind, with two additional blades in a darker blue flanking the main. The hilt looked like a relatively simple rectangular plate, but attached on either side were two wicked saw blades, both of which could spin on command. The pommel with its three protruding spikes, the point of the main blade which was a large triangle with another triangle cut out of it all made sure that anyone who saw that particular blade recognized exactly who its owner was.

Harry allowed himself a smile. It had been a while since he'd taken old Shadow out for a spin. Considering it was the first non standard issue sword he'd ever used, it was a sword that had been with him for a long time. It deserved a bit more attention that he tended to give it.

He raised the sword as he sank into a very well practiced crouch, stretching his arms out as he got ready for a good ol' swordfight.

Lyrth listened closely as Harry explained how they would defeat the armor-clad warriors. How unfortunate. The spikes won’t do us any good. “...but Rune, do you have one of those, cause I would not recommend going into this fight unarmed, cause you know, unlike the remnants from earlier, these things are just light, you wouldn't be able to control them. And I do happen to carry a backup knife." Lyrth glanced at Harry and Rune before gesturing to the weapons mounted on the walls. “There’s plenty extra if you prefer something other than a dagger.”

He unsheathed Vendryck, preparing himself for the barrage of questions relating to their current surroundings. “What the hell are we doing here?” Vendryck asked, a hint of fear evident in his voice. “It’s a long story. We are not currently in the real arena, but-” Lyrth was cut off as the spectators that he assumed the maze was including for max emotional destruction began to roar, yelling for the fight to begin.

Muscle memory kicked in as Lyrth responded to their cries, charging towards the fighters. This was the way of the arena- gladiators were puppets to the demanding crowd, and defying them meant certain death. Frankly, this sort of battle worried him- his fighting style relied on weakening his opponents physically by dealing massive amounts of damage over long periods of time- not brute force. Well, his usual fighting style at least. He preferred not to use the full extent of Vendryck’s ability, especially not against living opponents. But here, in the Crimson Arena, against enemies who were not truly alive, in this place where he had never held back, he was hard pressed not to use it.

In the end, it was simply instinct that sent Lyrth charging into battle. He rushed the first warrior, leaping into the air to meet its height. Adrenaline coursed through his body as one of Vendryck’s blades met the broadsword with a resounding clash. Lyrth rolled back to the ground, his very bones reverberating with the power of the hit. He grimaced. So his suspicions had been correct.

Everything about these opponents made them impossible to defeat. Normal disarming techniques were rendered almost useless, because they all depended on the enemy’s wrist being pressured until it was impossible to hold onto their weapon. In effect, the only way to defeat these monsters was to somehow knock their broadswords from their grasp using pure power, or cut off their hands. “Rekh-terr,” This time it was Vendryck who cursed their opponents, “We’ll have to use it,” He muttered.

“I know,” Lyrth dodged a devastating swing from his opponent.

“You didn’t handle it well last time,” Vendryck reminded him. Lyrth’s face curled into a scowl, “I know.”

“Are you sure you want to use it?” They dodged yet another powerful hit, just barely ducking out of the way in time. Lyrth tried to cut through the apparition’s armor, hoping against all odds. His blade hissed through empty air.

“It’s not like we have much of a choice, do we?” Lyrth lashed out, frustration and fear coloring his tone. Vendryck fell silent for a few moments, “Get ready.”

Lyrth gritted his teeth, preparing himself for the searing pain that always accompanied spirit bonding with Vendryck. The black glow that shone gently from Vendryck burst into flames of the same color, and surged up his arm over his body, turning slightly purple as Vendryck’s black spirit meshed with Lyrth’s. Soon he was completely encased in a raging inferno. The pain lasted just long enough for Lyrth to wonder if he made it through, before fading into an intoxicating feeling of power. The flames remained, flickering along Lyrth’s body like an unholy halo.

He smiled, and swung Vendryck with renewed vigor. He spun, jamming one of Vendrycks’ blades between the hilt of his opponent’s broadsword and his hand, then applying a monstrous amount of pressure. The sword flew from the warrior’s hand, landing on the floor with a clatter. The armored apparition shimmered, and disappeared, as if he had been evaporated by the glaring sun above them.

He turned now to the next fighter, unleashing a flurry of blows accompanied by a vicious snarl, his eyes burning with violent fervor. Lyrth pressed the illusion back into the wall until it was between two rusting spikes. He cackled, forcing the being’s hand to smash into the side of one of the spikes. Lyrth split the hilt of its blade in two, effectively disarming him and sending him back to wherever he had come from.

The madness had begun to set in. Vendryck thrummed uneasily, sensing that his curse was beginning to affect Lyrth. The same curse that chained him into the form of a weapon also granted him the ability to merge souls with his wielder, giving them great power for a short time. If the wielder bonded for too long, they would begin to be affected by battle craze and lose all reason and morality. Vendryck estimated that Lyrth had a few more minutes before he succumbed to the curse. Plenty of time.

Lyrth danced away from the spikes, raising his arms towards the spectators. This was the only part of the arena he had missed; the glory of the crowd roaring his name, the battle craze heightening his senses. He knew that Vendryck's curse was affecting him, but the blood pumping through his veins whispered only that every fallen foe was another letter of his name carved in the annals of history. He whipped back towards two more opponents now approaching him and grinned.

Rune had never liked things that couldn't die.

He also didn't like things that needed physical weapons instead of magic, but he was more concerned about these enemies not being able to succumb to any part of his magic. He couldn't heal them in ways their bodies weren't supposed to heal.

Harry, Jennifer, and Lyrth all seemed at home. The extra dagger might have been an option for a weapon, but it looked like it'd be hard to get it mid-fight.

Just as some of the constructs noticed him, Rune darted over to the weapons rack and grabbed a sword. It felt wrong and unfamiliar in his hands. He didn't like how weapons felt when he picked them up, and didn't like how their weight was usually more steady than his own.

But he didn't really have an option.

"I'm good with a weapon," he said.

Now he just had to disarm them.

As one of the constructs came towards him, Rune whacked it on its wrists. Unsurprisingly, it didn't let go of its weapon. That was too easy and too convenient. Groaning, he rushed back and kept his eye on the other constructs. There were twenty in total and five in their group, so it looked like he was in charge of four. He could handle that many opponents.

...If he figured out how to disarm them.

He eyed the weapons rack again.

Throwing his sword and tradition to the side, Rune ran back over to it. He had a totally stupid idea in his head right now, but it was his only idea. He grabbed a shield from the rack and spun back around. The enemy closest to him stuck out its sword towards his lighter side. Rune turned just enough so it slid right through two of his ribs.

He grinned.

"Nice try," he said, now just inches in front of it.

He slammed the bottom of the shield down on the construct's wrist with as much force as he possibly could. The wrist gave a very satisfying snap, and the enemy fell with its sword still sticking out of Rune's ribs.

He quickly removed it, hoping only Harry or Jennifer would have noticed in the fight.

...Now he just had to deal with the other three.

Harry had said the only way to defeat these warriors was to disarm them, Felix was very skilled with his knives, but he’d gotten this far and he wasn’t in the mood to take risks.

So sprinting over to the edge of the arena and running along with it just out of range of those deadly spear points, surveying the weapons, grabbing a bow and quiver of arrows he bent the bow and advanced on his adversaries.

Three of the warriors seemed to have noticed them, the closest one was hunched down advancing slowly with his sword at hip height, occasionally swinging it back and forth in front of him, it looked like it was trying to push Felix into a corner soon Felix would have to back into the spears to stay out of range of the sweeping weapon.

Fortunately for Felix, a circle doesn’t have corners, jumping onto the highest spear to his left he ran quickly along the tops of the spears and then leaped, landing in a roll behind the hulking Warrior.

When the Warrior turned around Felix had gotten close enough to be out of range of its sword, slightly confused the giant being tried to grab Felix in its stone-hard handsas it loosened its grip on its sword to try and grab Him, Felix took out his knives and lodging them in the things palms pried the sword out of its hands in a quick movement before the thing could realize what was happening, stepping back from the being, he watched it disintegrate before his eyes.

“Ok so, partly solid illusion,” Felix said looking at where it had been “I wonder if Harry would share some of these wonderful hospitality spells with me”
Hearing the sound of another warrior behind him Felix turned, ducked and shot another arrow as one of the other warriors swung its sword over Felix’s head.

Sprinting out of the way of another sweep, Felix noticed with dismay that the arrow he had shot in panic had gone straight for the thing’s chest, and then through it and broke as it hit the ground.

Turning around Felix also saw that the other warrior had come up and was now in the way of his escape from the sneaky one.

Not. Good.

Harry watched as one by one everyone engaged their opponents. Rune managed to help himself to one of the many weapons in the area and Harry turned away to focus on the opponents.



Jennifer spun the blades of her daggers as she eyed the things in front of her. This would be a nice break from all the battles she'd fought recently. This was where the basics were important and she could use the refreshed course as well as a break from blasting everything with lightning and fire or taking out opponents at lightning speeds before they could blink. She stretched out here arms and swung them a few times to get her joints loose and pounced towards two of the creatures.

The first one swung its sword in a wide arc towards her neck and she ducked, rolling under the blade and passing right through it body as the second creature sliced towards her from the other side. The creatures ended up crossing blades as she spun around to face them. She smiled.



Harry jumped from foot to foot in his crouch as one of the creatures headed for him. The arena, the familiar weight of the Shadow in his hands and arena around them reminded him of too many long forgotten memories. Memories that he usually buried deep within, now awakened by the enchantments he himself had cast.

As the first creature swung its sword down at him, Harry was suddenly thrust back millions of centuries into the past, back when he was a child, barely six years old and fighting for his life. He raised his sword out of pure instinct, the power of his opponents swing causing his blade to vibrate. Harry's eyes widened before he realized it was the creature's blade vibrating with the force of hitting Harry's block. He shook his head. He couldn't start hallucinating now of all times.



The two constructs charged here once again, and this time she went on the offensive, feinting towards the first one's head with one knife while the other darted out to the stomach of the second. The second construct met her knife with its sword, the sword bending at the impact of her knife, while the second one raised its sword to block a knife that was never there.

Jennifer guided the knife sharply down, going under the sword blade and whacking the handguard of the sword with its hilt. The impact sent the sword flying out of the constructs hand and the creature evaporated into the nothingness it had come from. She ducked away from another attack by the second construct, bringing up both her knives to parry its swipe.



Harry tried to gather himself as he exchanged blows with the construct in front of him. The pattern of slash, parry, slash, parry rang in his mind like a long forgotten tune as he remembered the constant clanging of swords around him, punctuated by the cries of pain and the occasional terrified scream of a dying fighter.

He let out a yell of frustration and charged forward, moving the Shadow through the air with deadly speed as he turned on the offensive, breaking the monotonous pattern of attack and block until he was actively pushing the construct back as he let loose a flurry of uncoordinated attacks, slashing and hacking with a barbaric lack of technique that would've made his long dead teacher roll in her grave. In the end, his power proved too much for the construct as one of this faster slashed managed to shatter its sword in two before the resulting blow knocked the sword from the constructs hand. It dissolved.

Harry leaned against the wall he'd backed the construct into and caught his breath. Calm down Harry. Etra Gijvarn is long behind you. Long behind you. Stop hacking like a fool and take down the rest of these things like you were taught. Harry took a long steadying breath and turned to face three constructs that were currently eyeing him.



Jennifer charged the construct, diving at the last second to slide right through its lower half before coming up behind. As soon as the creature turned, she was on the offensive, slashing with both her knives, pink blades creating a beautiful and deadly pattern in the darkness.

The construct was quickly overwhelmed, and soon she was slamming her knives against the hilt of its sword, cracking its fist as the sword tumbled out of its grasp. Two down. Two to go

She charged towards the nearest construct.



Harry charged the three constructs with a vengeance. In one fluid motion, he slashed at the one in the center, slamming its sword to the side as he turned to face the one on the left. To the constructs credit, it managed to hold onto its sword. Harry ducked undernearth attack of the third one as he rolled backwards, kicking the third construct in its hand as he did so. The sword went flying out of its hand to clatter on the floor. As it disappeared, Harry got to his feet

He turned to the other two with a smile on his face. The Frosted Shadow seemed to hiss in delight as it swung through the air towards his opponents. At least the sword was at home in this cursed arena.

820 words

Lyrth charged towards the closest two opponents, adrenaline coursing through his veins. As one of the fighters swung at his head, he ducked, sliding across the sandy floor and sending dust billowing up around him. Its heavy sword hit the ground with a resounding thud. Lyrth shot up, taking the split-second opportunity to slam his full weight onto the sword and forcing the apparition to lose its grip on the weapon. It clattered to the ground and his opponent shimmered before disappearing in the warm wind.

Lyrth could feel his mind straining under the stress of another soul. “Vendryck, hold it back just a little longer.” He muttered, sensing that their time was coming to an end. He leaped at another warrior, and their swords met with a clash. A stabbing pain shot through Lyrth’s forearm as the shock from the collision shook his very bones. Wincing, he forced himself to continue, matching the illusion blow for blow. It was disheartening to know that this thing didn’t grow weary or feel the shock of each impact. But this was hardly a test of Lyrth’s ability. He had fought opponents in this ring that forced him onto his knees and made him long for the Underdark again.

He danced out of reach of the warrior, then dashed so quickly forward that it had no time to react. He smashed open its wrist, purple and black flame engulfing it before crumbling away into the sand. His vision began to blur, and as he looked over his companions and their enemies, the distinction between them grew dim. Vendryck sensed his resolve wavering, “Lyrth, we don’t have any more time. I’m ending it.” Silence. Vendryck panicked and quickly reabsorbed his soul into the confines of the scimitar.

Lyrth’s vision sharpened and he took a deep breath. “Thanks.” He spun around, hoping to defeat a few more enemies before the end of this trial, even without Vendryck’s help.

Three more enemies to go. Rune had been lucky—no one who didn't already know his secret had noticed that he had intentionally let the construct run him through. But that luck might not last, and Rune wasn't going to risk his secret being revealed when it somehow hadn't already been.

He eyed the last three constructs.

He wasn't sure how to get the very last one taken care of, but he did have an idea for how to get rid of two of them. He darted between the two that were closest together. Both of the constructs raised their swords. Just before they would have hit Rune, Rune jumped out of the way. One sword whacked into the other construct's wrist, easily disarming it. The other scrapped the first construct's side.

The two remaining constructs—including the one he had just tricked into attacking its kin—turned to face him.

Now that he had already done the maneuver once, it wasn't hard for Rune to replicate it. He did exactly what he had before. The results were almost identical. The previously uninvolved construct's wrist was broken, while the original one was scrapped across its side again.

Now there was only one.

Felix jumped over the arm of a warrior as it tried to grab him, just one to go.
After he defeated the first one, two others had trapped him luckily a loud scraping sound from across the arena-He only had a second to glance over but it seemed to come from Runes area-Felix had shifted to Fox form and darted between the legs of the closest one, changing back He grabbed a sword from the wall and wedged it in between the warrior’s palm and sword, then when the other one came over to grab Felix, He simply dodged out of the way and the warrior’s hand pushed against the sword which dislodged the giant sword and turned the warrior to nothingness.

Now there was just one more to go, and though Felix racked his brain, He couldn’t think of a single maneuver to get the sword out of its hand, at the moment he was just dodging around trying to stall, maybe if he waited long enough Harry, or Jennifer would come and deal with it.
Then again Rune seemed to be handling himself and if he was fine surely Felix could deal with this himself.

Finely he ran over to the wall and grabbed four bows and a couple of mean-looking spears, an idea had been brewing but He didn’t have high hopes of it succeeding.
Taking the bowstrings off three of the bows he tied them together tied one end to the wall then ran over till it was taut and tied that end to a spear which he stuck in the cracks in the ground -hopefully it would hold- the warrior was getting closer now, he had to work fast, using the last bowstring he tied the spears together then shoved them on the bowstring and started pulling.

The warrior would reach him in just a few more large steps and he couldn’t pull any farther making sure his aim was right.
He let go.
There was a whistle and the spears shot away from him and the bowstrings and hit the warrior directly in the hand, it stumbled back and nearly dropped its sword, but it didn’t, Felix just had time to let go of the breath he was holding, when the spear he had stuck in the ground to hold his makeshift giant bow popped out of the ground (as the bowstring flipped back and forth after al the energy was released) swung back, the forward hitting the unaware warrior in the palm before it had time to regain its hold on the sword.

But Felix barely heard the sound of its sword crash to the ground or see it disappear, as the spear flung back, it had whipped around and the tip hit him, he crumpled to the ground holding with his over were the spear point had hit his left ribcage.

Fine, He admitted to himself maybe I could use some help.