Their bodies lay slumped across the pathway. Raphael tries to guide my head forward, but I keep turning back to see the blood pool between the cameras that lay slung across the stone.

Tears pour down my face, my breath harder to catch with each step. His hands wrap through my own, pulls me along. His cloak drags behind us, the red guards beginning to walk with us. I watch as they step through the blood like a puddle, their boot prints imprinting red on the uncovered stone.

The staffs start to pound the ground, a hum of excitement coming from the building crowd that begins to surround us as soon as we are off his land. I try to keep my stomach controlled when we step into the blood ring, their chants giving it that horrid name.

I hear them over and over as Raphael continues to pull me. Blood Ring! Blood Ring! Blood Ring!

If I could cover my ears and hide in a corner I would. So much blood, so much death, and no one seems bothered. It seems as though the people of the world are used to such distraction from their king, and nothing is the matter. How can these people be okay with the rotting copper filling their lungs day in and day out? My stomach might wretch into a bush if I keep this up much longer.

The metal poles stand eight foot out of the ground, male bodies handing from chains against three of the five. I recognize the paler male on the left, my fathers head low the invisible crown he once worn shattered at his feet.

His back and chest rise and fall with each breath, his shirtless stature showing off all the scars from his own father. The whips that never left him. When I was younger he told me stories about his fathers discipline, the way he would rip them up and whip them until they passed out. At the time my father was the strongest man alive, the one who survive it all, but now I know it was a warning. A warning that I did not heed.

The King and I stop in front of the men, my face red from the heat as I look upon the people that watch me intently, Raphael flicks his cape back allowing my whole body to be seen.

"Welcome, people of Helk! Today we celebrate the death of these devils. Their crimes speak to their names, none being innocent." He pauses for effect, the crowd roaring in excitement. My mind flickers back to the gladiator fights to the death in the colosseum of Ancient Rome, "As per old law, and new law, they will be sentenced to death, hearts ripped from their chest and stuffed between their jaws. Buried with shame!"

Stuffed... where?

"Sultana!" I hear the familiar yell of my father, his voice broken and cracked when he yells across the ring. My eyes trail over him, a guard laying a punch across his jaw.

"Tomorrow we celebrate the new order! The birth of a better world, an equal world, where all the Tazi's heads will roll! So today, let us start with these, and tomorrow we will end with them."

The peoples battle cry rings over my ears, the high pitched yells deafening me while my father goes slack against the pole. Blood trails from his mouth the ground, the visual of his spitting it through the dirt crossing into my mind.

"To the death we bleed, and to the life we live, let it be in victory!" He screams out raising our hands together. My eyes aren't on the King or the people, it watches the red guard slide his sword through my fathers chest, his final screams silencing the crowd around me. His still pumping heart falls to the ground, the guard snatching it as the light leaves his eyes, blood pouring from the wound.

The people silence themselves, the crack of jaws breaking the air as their hearts are shoved between their now rotting teeth. Only the pain of they last moments lay in the eyes, every ounce of blood seeping into their ragged clothing.

My torment is dead. And standing here looking at the man that physically abused me for years, tormented me, and ruined me for all the world to see... I let myself smile. I let myself enjoy the relief that comes over me, and in that single moment, I give myself the peace of his beating heart slowing to a stop between his lying teeth.