General Voldenic sat in Dillo’s favorite chair and had even accepted a glass of Dillo’s favorite scotch. That was good. A threat was best kept comfortable. He was mulling over Colonel Dillo’s proposal and he hadn’t destroyed anything else in the process. Things were looking up. “But how do you plan on keeping what transpired here secret from the King?” asked the General. “Oh, easy. It won’t be a secret at all.” The General sat upright. “Oh, I should rephrase that,” Dillo quickly continued, “we’ll just retell the story of what happened. Since the kids have no memories, we can just spin some amnesia story and give them new identities. With how talented they all are, they will undoubtedly attract attention. So, as long as we feed them all an attractive story, we could even use them to make you look even better! Think of it, a virtuous general saving a group of children from their tragic lives in the outer realms and forming them into champions! And of course, there will be no mention of the Battle at Black Valley.” The General laced his fingers together under his chin. “While I’m not aware of the reason you have gone great lengths to acquire these seeds of memory,” Dillo continued, “I am sure it has something to do with winning this upcoming season of the War Games. Considering that, I am suggesting we use these boys’ talents to ensure you win every season. Sure it’s a risk, I just believe the reward far outweighs it.” “You think they’re that talented, hmm?” said the General. “I know it, sir.” The General considered it a moment then stood, leaving his half-full glass of scotch to float away. So wasteful. “Show them to me,” he said, “I have a test of my own to see if they’re worth what you say.” “And if they’re not?” The General regarded Dillo with cold eyes. “Then you shouldn’t have lied.” Dillo laughed. The kid’s survival was out of his hands now. “Well then, follow me, sir,” Colonel Dillo said, leading the General through another door that wouldn’t risk his precious statues. They descended a long spiral staircase accompanied by an awkward silence as long walks with the General normally were. Then the stairwell opened to a spacious kitchen. It was a room full of collectible home items like ovens, blenders, and microwaves. It even had a toaster. People in old times really had a machine entirely dedicated to heating up sliced bread–it was hilarious. The only machine in the room with any real use was the refrigerator. Past the kitchen was a luxurious dining room of marble flooring that glistened under an exquisite crystal chandelier. Unlike the other rooms, he kept the art pieces here to a minimum to focus attention on the animated mural covering the entirety of a wall. The mural depicted a battlefield set between heaven and hell, helmed warriors under Halos cascading over distorted beings. The warriors swung weapons of divine conceiving and blasted enemies apart with the elements of nature. The angry beings with twisted features fought back with shifting limbs of wings, horns, and claws. The smell of steamy meats and spices welcomed them. A feast was prepared and waiting on a long dining room table made of solid quartz. The seat at the head of the table slid back with a flick of Dillo’s wrist. He gestured the General towards it. “Enjoy, sir, while we wait.” “I’m not waiting, Cornelius, where are they?” Dillo sighed. The wall mural suddenly swung open from the side of hell. Whoops and cheers burst from the opening as a group of young boys bounded into the room, sweaty and smiling, with their Halos shining brightly. What wonderful timing. *** Jace peered through a slight opening into a room with a few plush seats, floating glasses, and strange-looking ornaments. He and Satch were behind a door opposite to the one that the two men in burgundy uniforms had just left through. “They were talking about us. Probably the others too.” Jace whispered. Satch clutched Big n’ Spikey tight to his chest. “Yeah… one didn’t sound very friendly about it.” “They were talking about forming us into champions. Let’s follow them.” “That’s what you got out of that conversation?” Whispered Satch harshly. “What, did you make any sense of the other parts?” Instead of answering, Satch started hitting his head against the hammer, muttering to himself. Jace pushed the door open slowly, peering further into the room until seeing the big old guy they saw before. Jace pulled back, signaling Satch to be quiet. The large man stood stoically next to a seat in the room's corner nearest to where the boys were hiding. It was probably best to continue undetected. They needed a distraction to get them through. “You still have Artima left, right?” Jace asked. “Have what?” “Artima. I think it’s what I used to make that,” he pointed at Big n’ Spikey. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.” “C’mon, ya know, the door-thing you can feel at the back of your mind.” Jace patted the back of his head, his hand passing through the ring of light. Satch stared back blankly. “Or not,” Jace said, sneaking another look into the room. The man stood completely still facing forward as if he was just another statue. If it weren’t for the occasional blink, he might have thought he was one. He inspected the space, mapping out the blind spots from the man’s position. There were two seats and the statue of a woman that Jace was sure would obstruct the man’s vision. The problem was how to get his attention long enough for him and Satch to get behind them. Jace eyed the glasses of amber liquid that floated where he wanted the man looking. “I have an idea. But we’re going to have to leave the hammer.” Satch whined in weak protest, but slowly dropped the hammer anyway. Jace jogged down the steps on light feet and picked up a few choice pieces of rubble. Before heading back up, he glanced at the bits of black worms. They were still moving, clearly collecting in pools as they slowly escaped from under the concrete. He shuddered. Yeah, we can’t wait here much longer. He jogged back up, placing a piece of rubble in Satch’s hand. “What’s this for?” “Shh, just listen,” Jace said, urging Satch to look through the door's slight opening. “You see those chairs and the statue with the shadows facing away from the old guy? Once I give the signal, we run. Get behind one of them as quickly and quietly as you can. I’ll go for the statue, you go for one of the chairs.” “But what if he sees us?” “He won’t as long as you’re quick and quiet.” Jace took a deep breath, opening the door slightly more to focus on a glass floating at the opposite end of the room from their target hiding spots. He raised a piece of rubble, focusing on the amber held in the ornate glass. “I’m going to count down from three.” Satch nodded, shaking heavily. “Three… Two… One…” Jace threw the piece of concrete, glass shattering in a sudden explosion of noise. He darted for the statue, not even looking to see if the distraction got the man’s attention. Clinking shards of glass masked his steps and he pressed his back against the stone of his destination within seconds. He made it. He looked over to the seat that Satch was… not behind. “What in bloody hell was that?” the old man said from where the glass shattered. “… I swear, that blasted Dillo is always screwing with me.” Jace found Satch still hidden in shadow behind the door, only the terrified look in his eyes catching any light. Damn that coward! There was only one glass left floating to give Jace the chance to get through the other door. But breaking it would lead the man's attention in the direction of Satch. Jace would be able to get away but Satch would get found for sure. He knocked the back of his head against the stone. He thought about it, but he couldn’t leave Satch here, right? Even though he really wanted to… Even though Satch deserved it for hesitating... Jace threw his final piece of rubble, glass exploding near the door barely hiding Satch. “Again?!” the man shouted, running towards the source of the noise. Satch’s eyes spread wide in horror as Jace turned and ran. There was no time for hesitation. The man stopped near the glass in front of the door hiding Satch. It was still ajar, and the man noticed immediately. He swung the door open. Alone on the staircase was a frightened boy clutching a rough piece of concrete in shaking hands.