A Hero In The Dark

Chapter 43: Death Shall Come

My eyes adjust from total blackness to a dimly lit space. I don't know where I am – somewhere far from Chicago it feels.

A spotlight shines on me from my left.

I squint into the bright light through the gaps between my fingers. Then another spotlight next to it. Followed by another. Until eventually I'm surrounded by nothing but bright lights.

The room as bright as it could possibly be, I take my eyes away from the large beams of light.

An arena.

One with elevated seats all around the outside; an array of sand as the ground.

What's going on?

It's then I hear his voice echo in my ear from somewhere high above, "Death shall come."

I strain my neck to find Setrákus Ra standing in an announcement booth submerged in the rows of seats. And although I don't see his mouth move, those three words echo in the back of my mind, over and over.

"Death shall come. Death shall come. Death shall come."

I grit my teeth and shut my eyes; my fists balled tight enough they may as well be rocks, and yet trying my hardest to not fall to my knees and clutch at my ears.

It's only three words. Three simple words that are enough to make my mind break.

"GET OUT OF MY HEAD!" I yell, my voice so loud it erupts through the entire stadium.

To my surprise, it stops. Peace returns to my mind once again.

I look up to find that the entire stadium is packed with a cheering crowd; of screaming Mogadorians. Some of them throw stuff at me – I am too disoriented to focus on what any of it is. Others shout harsh Mogadorian words. There isn't a single mog that sits still and does nothing.

I find Setrákus Ra in the booth with an announcer's microphone in his hand. He smirks and speaks into it, "Let the games begin!"

A roar sounds to my right at the edge of the arena. A loud terrifying roar that causes my entire body to tremble.

A Piken.

Its snout sniffs the air until it senses my presence. The beast's dim red eyes lock onto me and I take a fearful step backwards.

This isn't real. This isn't real. This isn't real.

The Piken charges. My heartbeat quickens. I stand completely immobile, shaking. It lashes out with one of its short fury arms – its claws extended – and swipes me off my feet.

I shout as I'm flung through the air and land on my side near the arena wall. It turns its head to see my hurt body lying not far away and roars loudly.

The mogs cheer as the beast rushes in for the kill.

Panicking, I crabwalk backwards until my back touches the southwest wall, holding my stomach in pain.

I'm too hurt to move; too weak to say anything. The beast is quickly on top of me and it presses its claw into my sternum, drooling at my knees while staring into my soul with malevolent power in its sharp fangs.

I wheeze, struggling for a breath.

All the Mogadorians chant at the sight of the Piken standing over my body.

"Kill! Kill! Kill! Kill!"

Anger surges through me and my breathing intensifies; I hardly realize my vision turn to a similar tinge of blue as it did in the cave.

As the Piken roars in my face, its mouth widening as if readying to take its first bite, I mumble under my breath, "Bad Piken," as if talking to a dog that's gotten in trouble.

Before the Piken can plunge its claw deeper into my chest, two thin beams of vivid Blue Energy zap the beast right in the eyes.

It howls and recoils from the pain before bursting in a cloud of ash. Only then does the crowd go silent.

I struggle to my feet and meet Setrákus Ra's gaze and I yell, "I'm not as weak as you think I am!"

He doesn't say anything to that; doesn't smile or make any reaction whatsoever. Nothing but a show of casually checking his wristwatch and clapping his hands together.

The clap too echoes in the back of my mind.

One clap. Then another. Then a third.

Slow. Precise. Accurate.

As the fourth clap sounds, is when I'm out of it.

I awake with a sudden inhale in my bedroom in Chicago.