𝗪𝗔𝗜𝗧 𝗙𝗢𝗥 𝗠𝗘 ━━ l. valdez

iii ━━ we broke all the pieces, but still want to play the game

05. chapter three

━━━━━━━━ ( 💫 ) ━━━━━━━━

( leo's pov )

THIS WAS NOT MY IDEA OF MEETING THE FAMILY.

From what I heard, meeting your girlfriend's family meant an uncomfortable dinner—not being chased by four metal ladies with spears while they produced what sounded like a Super Bowl crowd mixed with feedback.

I wasn't sure whether I preferred the uncomfortable dinner, or the death run.

We ran, tripping over stones, leaping over crumbled walls, dodging around columns and informational placards. Behind us, Nike's chariot wheels rumbled and her horses whinnied.

Every time I thought about slowing down, the metal ladies screamed again–what had Nike called them? Nikai? Nikettes?–filling me with terror.

I hated being filled with terror. It was embarrassing.

"There!" Camille sprinted towards a kind of trench between two earthen walls with a stone archway above. It reminded me of those tunnels that football teams run through when they enter the field. "That's the entrance to the old Olympic stadium. It's called the crypt!"

"Not a good name!" Leo yelled.

"Why are we going there?" Frank called. "If that's where she wants us–"

The Nikettes screamed again and all rational thought abandoned me. I ran for the tunnel.

When we reached the arch, Hazel yelled, "Hold it!"

We stumbled to a stop. Frank peered back the way we'd come. "I don't see them any more. They disappeared."

"Did they give up?" Camille asked hopefully.

I scanned the ruins. "Nah. They just herded us where they wanted us. What were those things, anyway? The Nikettes, I mean."

"Nikettes?" Frank scratched his head. "I think it was Nikai, plural, like victories."

"Yes." Hazel looked deep in thought, running her hands along the stone archway. "In some legends, Nike had an army of little victories she could send all over the world to do her bidding."

"Like Santa's elves," Leo said. "Except evil. And metal. And really loud."

Hazel pressed her fingers against the arch, as if taking its pulse. Beyond the narrow tunnel, the earthen walls opened into a long field with gently rising slopes on either side, like seating for spectators.

I guessed it would have been an open-air stadium back in the day–big enough for discus-throwing, javelin-catching, naked shot-put, or whatever else those crazy Greeks used to do to win a bunch of leaves.

"Ghosts linger in this place," Camille murmured.

Hazel nodded. "A lot of pain is embedded in these stones."

"Please tell me you have a plan," I said. "Preferably one that doesn't involve embedding my pain in the stones."

Hazel's eyes were stormy and distant, the way they'd been in the House of Hades–like she was peering into a different layer of reality. "This was the players' entrance. Nike said we have five minutes to prepare. Then she'll expect us to pass under this archway and begin the games. We won't be allowed to leave that field until three of us are dead."