Chains Made of Stars- ON HOLD

Chapter 14: Citadel of the undead

The colosseum was chaos. Fifty thousand people jeered and hissed and booed, stamping their semi-solid feet and calling out to the portly man to, if Mith had heard right, refund their memories.

Weird, that.

The darkness, the starlight, and the spectators' odd paleness made Mith feel like she was in the land of the dead; surrounded by ghosts and blood and an unearthly chill. The noise was even more jarring now; Mith, like most people, associated death with peace and silence, not cacophonies.

Of course, they spectators weren't really dead.

Were they?

"Will," Mith whisper-hissed. He turned, one dark eyebrow elegantly raised.

"Why do all these people look like they're ghosts?" She asked in an undertone.

"Because they are ghosts," Will replied impatiently, then turned back to continue staring at the portly man with a hardened expression.

Mith sucked in a breath. Her head swam and spots danced before her eyes.

No way.

"Tell me you're joking," Mith pleaded, looking around the colosseum. It couldn't be. Those fifty thousand people couldn't all be dead. Ghosts in the starlight; talking, gesturing, stamping as if they had real bodies. It simply couldn't be.

"Oh, they're dead alright," Will said with a grim smile. "In fact-" he narrowed his eyes and squinted at someone on the other side of the colosseum.

"Yeah, that's Martin Briggs," he continued conversationally. "Poor bastard. He was one person I actually hadn't wanted to kill."

"What the fuck- Will! That's a human life you're talking about! Show some goddamn respect!" Mith whispered furiously, as soon as she regained her composure.

"Don't be such a drama queen," Will scoffed. "He's probably having a better time as a ghost. I mean, he doesn't have to deal with the missus, for one. And he can walk through walls. Good stuff, y'know?"

Mith had never been overly-religious. For fifteen years, the Carcerem Society had been her Truth, consequently, she had never needed a God.

That being said, Mith was praying now.

"What are you doing?" Will demanded, seeing her closed eyes and folded hands.

Mith ignored him. The very foundations on which her life had been built had shattered. The existence of the ghosts contradicted all her that her parents had ever told her about life, and death; however small those beliefs had been, they were a part of her bringing-up and who she was.

She felt unmoored and adrift without them, unsure of what was real and what wasn't. So she prayed, hoping it would give her some sanity.

And Will. Gods in all heavens above, Will defied reason, he defied the concept of humanity. Mith simply couldn't wrap her head around it. 

*****

Laila stared at Will in wide eyed horror. Her expression was identical to the one Mith had worn only seconds ago, before she had zoned out on him.

"Wake up and smell the cheese," he muttered darkly. Yes, he had killed people, quite a few of them, in fact. He shivered, suddenly overwhelmed by the fact that he no longer felt any regret for anything he had ever done, only a cold, hollow emptiness. Was he even human anymore?

*****

"Ladies and gentleghosts, my apologies for what has happened." The portly man (presumably the Keeper of the Beasts)'s voice boomed across the colosseum, loud enough to momentarily drown out the chatter of all the spectators.