Arising Fate

XVI

The trials were to be divided into three separate tests. Although the term 'test' was a joke, a mocking word, meant to be-little the real horrors that would haunt each contestant in the following weeks.

Valen spent his time listening to the General's guidelines from the ground of the circular arena. They had torn the chains from his wrists the moment the General's carvings had ceased. At this point, Valen didn't care enough to identify one demon beyond the masses. He had collapsed, like an anchor longing for the seabed, into the piles of soot and sand. For one single second, Valen let the small sliver of humanity he had enslaved and gagged behind the chains of his soul breathe. He let himself dream what it would be like to become one with the earth, to return to the dust he had been forcibly dragged from.

Then the illusion had shattered, the hands of his mind gripping onto that thread of light and silencing it under a looming and powerful indifference.

He had always been a fighter over a lover.

Valen had planted his hands into the ground, as if he could reach into the core of this disgusting wasteland and siphon the energy into his body. To say he was in pain would be an understatement. He was surprised his body could generate such agony. Valen's complexion was ashen, copper skin so sunken in tone that he looked like a living, breathing corpse. The chaos in his soul matched the chaos that wracked his body. Every couple of moments he would want to scream – a raw, cracked, ugly scream of a pain that knew no ending. How could he ever communicate what he felt? The only thing that came to mind was a string of adjectives. Slowly burning, agonizingly hot, steady, ignited gasoline. Valen felt every aching breath, every beat of his heart, every twitch of muscle.

But he planted his hands into the ground and pushed. Black tears, mutant and silent in nature, bled down his cheeks. He managed though to settle himself into a kneeling position, hands clawing onto the fabric of his pants, shaking. He had not uttered a word throughout the entire process.

"Silence looks good on you mutt," he heard someone whisper beyond the haze of pain. 

Bitch. 

It was a women's voice. Valen didn't even have to move his head in her direction to know who it was. Mostly because he couldn't. But she would never get the pleasure of knowing that was the reason. Valen could picture her dark mauve hair, her vicious smirk as she watched his body visibly spasm in pain, as she watched the blood, which had not stopped pulsing beneath torn flesh, ooze down his back. He knew his tears were visible as well, staining his cheeks.

However, rather than cowering, than turning his head to respond, than lashing out to rip her filthy little head from her shoulders, Valen kept his indifferent façade in place. He wanted the others to know that this little misstep had not broken him – his mind, his goal, remained steady and unwavering.

So, he ignored her, zoning in on the General's words instead.

The trials would be divided into three separate tests. Only the first test had been disclosed. It would be based purely on physical skill. If Valen wasn't injured, if he hadn't been chained, humiliated, and visibly scarred in front of his competitors by the General himself, he would have laughed. Had he not already completed the 'physical' test when he decapitated some of the worthless fighters in this very arena? Had he not earned this badge when he had tasted the blood of a dying warrior on his lips as he ripped off his head with his teeth?

Apparently, this physical test would be harder and more personal. A battle not just between the fighters that remained standing in the arena but a battle between oneself. Nervous excitement lightly pulsed beneath Valen's skin. He did his best to control the eagerness, to hush the heart he knew pounded beneath his ribcage somewhere. He let out a sigh. Why was he born with a heart?

"Does this sound too difficult for you mutt? Were the wings a blessing or should I have killed you instead?" Valen's head snapped towards the General's accusation, the movement sending a lash down his spine, disturbing the sliced pieces of skin. He swallowed his scream, his voice coming out softer and more laced with pain than he would have wanted.

"No, sir."

The General continued speaking, Valen's hands continued shaking. This time it was from a ripe kind of fury rather than pain. He was surprised he kept control over the manic that lay inside him; the fool. Instead he let his mind fill with other spiraling thoughts and questions about the trials to come. If the first trial was a physical test meant to assess stamina and their bodies ability to withstand certain levels of pain then Valen predicted the second trial would be one of the mind. It was one thing to be broken down physically. However, it took a completely different game to break someone down mentally – to scrape away their desire to live.

However, the third trial confused Valen. What was left? He realized he didn't have much time to think on it. The group had begun moving towards their living chambers. For most, it would become a place most of them would be waiting to die. But not Valen.

Slowly, and with more effort than he would ever willingly admit, Valen rose to his feet, straightened his mauled back, and commanded his legs to move at a speed that didn't indicate how much pain he was in.

When they reached the living quarters, a large black-stone building whose interior was divided into rooms that fit two-to-three demons at a time, Valen found himself stuck bunking with what might as well have been two other half-bloods. They weren't half-bloods of course but the pure-blooded runts of the group.

One's name was Razor. It was pretty self-explanatory. His wings shot out of his back like an amalgamation of small, sharp, jagged pieces of dull metal. They weren't anything to be proud of. Of the three of them, Razor could have been the weak, mutant child whose mother decided to birth him in a nuclear facility. His movements reminded Valen of a short-circuit – twitchy, nervous, always glancing around as if someone was going to attack him. 

Valen smirked. 

If he wasn't injured, he just might have attacked him to see if the mutated beast of a pureblood would cower in the corner begging for mercy or begging for death. He chuckled beneath his breath. Razor would definitely beg for death. 

The second pureblood, Caim, made Valen think of the sniveling adopted son of the muscled General with the monstrous wings. Caim's wings were black and fierce in the way they extended from his back. However, they curled at the edges. It made him look fragile, as if he was curling himself away from the world; hidden by his family beneath a staircase. But he had potential, even Valen could admit to it. It would take some time to groom the bitch out of him, but he could become strong with time. Valen could see it in his eyes.

Up until this point Valen had been leaning against the wall, watching the two of his bunkmates as they made small whispered conversations on the other side of the room. Every so often they'd sneak a glance in his direction, but nervous energy burned across their skin. They knew what he was capable of. They would not approach him.

Valen however was getting desperate. He could feel the onset of infection. His skin had turned cold and clammy. A sheen of sweat had begun to slink across his body, soaking the tattered remains of his shirt. Dizziness swam across his vision, blurring the edges of the world before him. He couldn't let them know how much his condition had deteriorated, but he needed their help to find both food and a couple of much needed herbs to starve away the infection.

Mundane herbs were rare in this world – kept for the use of the wealthy as drunken tonics, exotic tastes, or as ways to see into other dimensions. He would have to use the fear he had over them to convince them to help him. Elimination was not an option.

Valen grinned outright.

Fear was his specialty.

He stepped forward. 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Another chapter posted - would love to hear your feedback of Valen so far :) 

Will they discover his condition? Will they be found out by the General? 

What do you believe the last trial will be? Any guesses?

Hope everyone is doing well ^-^ 

Cheers, 

Laura Nicole