Drake closed his eyes. There was only way he could imagine them defeating the blood oath: they would have to lure Dy'Ixion into a trap and attack from all sides while a group of earth users took advantage of the distraction to land a killing blow. But the sheer number of casualties... "We might," he said at last, "but the cost will be high."

"If only we had some type of equalizer," Rex muttered.

Equalizer. The word caught in Drake's mind. Traverse Wake was one, but not enough to tip the scale, he thought. Rex is right, if... Suddenly, he remembered where they were, and he spun towards the vice champion. "My father told me there is a room in the arena with a giant glowing symbol in it. Do you know where the room is located?"

"I uh," he said. "I think so. Do you mean the room that won't let anything in it?"

"What do you mean?" Drake asked.

"There is this large room on the lower level that we've tried to use as a storage area, but every time we try to stick something in there, it somehow manages to end up back in the hallway. There's also a dim outline of some type of magical rune on the back wall."

"That must be it. Would you take me there?"

Rex stared at him and tilted his head. "Sure, I guess. But why?"

"I'll explain once we get there."

Rex crouched and rolled his shoulders. "Okay then, follow me."

The world blurred around Drake, and Rex became a green haze as he followed him via Traverse Wake.

Seconds later, Rex slid to a halt and casually waved his hand. "This is it."

Before them lay a plain brown door, unmarked and unnoticeable compared to the hundreds of other doors in the arena.

Drake took hold of the doorknob, and pushing open the door, he entered a large, rectangular room. The cavernous space appeared empty, even devoid of the usual spider webs and dust such a room would normally collect. The only thing that stood out was a faint image carved into the back wall. Making his way to the back, Drake placed his left hand on the dim outline of an ancient rune. The wall pulsed at his touch, and lifting his right hand, the prince drew a blue, glowing symbol in the air.

The symbol sunk into the earthen surface, and a cascade of colors flickered and danced over the wall. Then the wall vanished as if it had never been there, revealing a staircase leading deep into the earth.

Rex jumped back. "What in Eldrin's name!" He ripped off his mask and stared down into the endlessly long stairway. "How come I didn't know about this? And how in the world do you know about it?"

Drake started to walk down the stairs and motioned for Rex to follow him. "Only the Imperial bloodline knows about this, and I know of it because I am Drakovian Rylarth Docdovinun the third, the Emperor's forty-year old son and heir to the throne."

Rex had put back on his mask and was in the process of taking his first step onto the stairs when Drake's words caused him to misstep. He tumbled headfirst down the first seven feet of the staircase, his metallic armor clanking on the stone before he finally managed flip around and grab on to one of the stairs.

Drake dashed to his side as he asked. "Are you okay?"

Rex slowly pulled himself to a sitting position. He leaned against the wall and rubbed his shoulder. "Ya, I'll survive, just a few more bruises to add to this wonderful day... Wait!" His head shot up towards Drake. "Did you just say you're the forty year old son of the Emperor?"

"I did," Drake answered with the slightest hint of amusement in his voice. "It might also interest you to know that you're my cousin."

"I'm your what?!" Rex shot back.

"Your father is my uncle."

"Oh," Rex took off his mask and hung it on his sword. His young face twisted in turmoil as he ran his hand through his dark hair. "I'm not actually my father's son."

Drake raised his eyebrow in question. "You're not?"

"No, I'm not, and the story I told you earlier, well, it isn't exactly true. You see, my real father was a dark mage, and I was his experiment."

Some of the loose pieces fell into place in Drake's mind. Rex's earlier explanation had left him wondering why he hadn't heard of such conditions before. This, however, made sense. "I see. And the healers you spoke of earlier weren't actually hired by your father, were they?"

Rex shook his head. "Mr. Havanger's great kindness stopped me from becoming a permanent lab rat, but he had to agree to let the Imperial mages run tests on me as I grew up."

Drake reached out his hand to help Rex stand up. "Well, blood relative or not, I'm glad to have you as part of my family."

Rex smiled at him and gratefully took his hand as he stood to his feet.

A soft blue glow lit the vice champion's face as Drake used Ra'avah to examine the young warrior.

"I'm fine," Rex protested and reached out to pat Drake on the head.

Drake pulled back and glared at Rex's hand with nigh murderous intent. "Oh yeah, sorry..." Rex said as he quickly retracted his hand. "Are you really forty?"

"I am, and I do not appreciate being treated as a child. Now that you know who I am, I expect you to treat me as such."

"I'll try," Rex answered somberly. "I guess it must be annoying to be treated as a kid all the time."

"It is... aggravating, to say the least," Drake replied. He glanced down the stairway. "Do you think you could run us down this?"

"Not really," Rex stated as he took a few steps. "It's almost too dark to see, and running downstairs is hard to begin with."

"I can solve the light problem," Drake answered. He brought up his hand and cast a small, but powerful light spell which illuminated the stairway several hundred feet in front of them.

Rex whistled. "Wow, I still can't see the bottom."

"This is most vexing. If Dy'Ixion attacks while we are traversing these stairs, the others will be massacred."

"Then I had better run down them as fast as I can." Rex moved in front of him and motioned for Drake to follow as he started to run down the stairs.

Initially, he tried to take several stairs at a time, but after stumbling and almost tumbling head first again, he slowed his pace. As Rex found a comfortable gait, he said, "You know, you never told me, or my father, what's up. All I know is that Vackzilian is now the Emperor, and somehow, he has insanely powerful minions."

Drake stepped up beside him and repositioned his magic light. "Regrettably, that is the extent of our intelligence. All we know for sure is that yesterday, he appeared in the palace, turned my father to stone, and killed General Turik along with Varlin and most of the elite bodyguard. After a short, but bloody fight, he used a meteor to wipe out the entire House of Lirsdro. He then personally eliminated Algerian with an ice spike. Afterwards, the other nobles were required to bow to him and declare him Emperor. My last eyes-on report stated that Vackzilian was turning people into blood oaths in exchange for high positions in his court."

"Whoa! Man that's a lot to take in," the vice champion exclaimed, then after several moments of silence said, "Wait, how is any of that even possible? I mean, I've been to the palace, and there's no way even someone as strong as Vackzilian could get in."

A scowl formed on Drake's face. "I wish I knew. I've mentally dissected every part of the palace's defenses, trying to find a single hole he could've exploited. There is none." Drake closed his eyes and massaged his temples. "Alas, there are more pressing matters to be seen to right now. For instance, I noticed you achieved Patuah while rescuing Alf."

Rex faltered. "I what? I mean I did? Really?"

"Indeed."

"I do feel different, but I thought it was just some type of effect of my singing. To be honest, I have been quite worried about how I feel. Ever since freeing Alf, it sort of feels like I'm leaking inside.

Once again, Drake focused his eyes into Ra'avah and examined Rex. "I wouldn't overly worry. From a quick glance, I would say you're fine: most likely it's just your magic pool filling up for the first time. With your muscle density and physical build, I believe it will be a rather substantial one at that. Have you imprinted any spell books on your brain?"

"That's a tricky question. My real dad did something to me with basic wind spells, hoping I could use them without achieving Patuah before he... well, did this to me, but it didn't work."

"I see," Drake said. That likely explains how he used that wind spell without knowing it, the prince thought to himself.

"Other than that though, no; we were always afraid of what might happen if I achieved Patuah and accidentally cast a spell without proper training."

"Understandable. I suggest, if we have time, you imprint the basic book of magic. Your having some defense spells would be most useful.

"I'll do that." Rex fell into silence. "Are you really sure I achieved Patuah?"

"I am."

A giant grin spread across Rex's face. He skidded to a halt and started dancing around, pumping his arms as he shouted, "Yahooo!"

Drake stared at him and raised an eyebrow. Slowly, Rex's ecstatic jubilation faded away, and he came to a shuffling standstill, wearing an embarrassed look on his face. "Are you finished?" he asked.

"I ah. . ya," Rex answered sheepishly and promptly started to run down the stairs again.

"Now that you are able to use magic," Drake said hiding a grin, "you can permanently learn skills like Alf did with Defender earlier today."

Rex's eyes lit up. "You're right," he exclaimed in excitement. Scrunching his face in concentration, he closed one eye.

"Stop! There's only one skill you should be learning right now and it is in that sword." Drake stared meaningfully at the Stone of Kay. "Hopefully, you have enough newly forming neural passageways or I'll have to teach you the forbidden spell Vetrolix."

"No way!" Rex said drawing back. "I'm not using that. It can wipe out entire portions of a person's memory."

"You may have to. We cannot afford a repeat of earlier, and your speed is one of the hinges my strategy depends on," Drake stated in a tone that brooked no argument.

Rex's hazel eyes darkened in speculation, and his face lit in curiosity as they traveled deeper into the belly of the cavern. "Just what do you have planned?"

"If all goes well, something that will enable us to obliterate the blood oath in our next encounter."

***

Dy'Ixion punched at the scrying spell. It hissed and light flashed as the fog that comprised it dispersed.

He had been hoping his wall would send the plebeians scurrying like chickens with their heads cut off. Instead, that cursed old man had used his wall to his advantage! Over a thousand peasants had already joined the arena master's army and more were clamoring to him.

Red sparks shot away from his clenched fists, burning gouges in the already mangled pavement. This... this wretched old fogey had destroyed his life once three years ago, and there was no way he would let him do it again! To this day, Dy'Ixion still remembered being trapped like a common rat behind that man's hideous shield and then being dragged off to Victiles with just a wave of the Emperor's hand—no trial, no jury, and no justice whatsoever. He still remembered the humiliation, the injustice, of it all. But now it was his turn. Lord Dy'Ixion would have his revenge, and that meddling man would die a slow, tortuous death.

But how? With the thousands of warriors from the expedition matches, and the remaining city's populace on the old man's side, it'd be nigh impossible for Dy'Ixion to stand his ground. Even with all of his amazing power, taking on that many at one time would be suicide. Eventually, a stray ice spell or fireball would penetrate his guard.

He rubbed his shoulder where the large warrior had pierced him with an ice spike earlier. Even though it had been healed, it still hurt—a few more hits like that would ruin his day.

"I could destroy the entire arena," he grumbled to himself. "That would end this real quick." In fact, doing so would be easy, but if he did, he would likely kill one, or more, of the four he was after.

And if he did that, Vackzilian would do a lot worse than poke a few holes in him.

No, Dy'Ixion's only option was to attack the arena head on. Of course, that meant he'd have to fight an entire army. If only he could break their will to fight somehow.

His pale grey eyes lit up and he grinned. "That's it," he said, his hands lighting up the dark night with a purplish glow as he knelt down and charged energy into the broken street. The earth pulsed as his power twisted and formed the gravel into a perfectly smooth circle five feet in diameter around him.

Then he released his charge, and the air whistled around him as his pillar shot forth from the ground, raising him high into the sky until the entire city lay out before him as far as the eye could see. This high up, the chilly air nipped at his arms, and the brisk wind tore at his clothes, but he ignored the discomfort as he walked to the edge of the pillar and looked down. Far below, black birds already feasted on the soldiers he had massacred. Dy'Ixion smirked and scanned the horizon until his eyes alighted upon the arena.

Only the area directly above the pit lay open to the sky, but from his angle, he could see thousands of people the size of ants moving around in the stands.

"This will be perfect," he cackled.

***

Hervey sat scrunched up behind a pair of teenage girls playing patty cake. All around him, the stands were jammed pack full of people, and far below, tens-of-thousands crowded into the large battlefield. Just like him, they were all hiding, hoping against hope someone would vanquish the monster that had laid siege to the city.

Once again, one of Mr. Havanger's men activated the arena's voice amplifying spell as he stood in the announcer box and asked for volunteers.

Hervey scrunched further into his seat, hoping the man he only knew as Light-pierce didn't see him as he scanned the crowd. Mr. Havanger would have his hide if he knew he was cowering in the stands, as well as his job, but there was no way on earth he was going to risk his life against that dark monster again! He absentmindedly touched the side of his face as he hid his head behind the girl in front of him; it was still pink and tender where the skin had been burned to the bone and then healed and made whole. Thanks to that, whatever he was, Hervey had not only lost part of his face, he had almost gurgled to death in his own blood—and he would have, if Zaphaniea's spell hadn't saved them all.

He closed his eyes, trying to close out the memory of the fire and screams of dying men all around him.

The mother of the girls in front of him turned to the father, a skinny wisp of a man, and angrily muttered, "They still haven't told us who is attacking us and why."

"I don't think they know," someone Hervey couldn't see a row down answered.

An old lady sitting to his left crossed her arms and said, "I'd bet my last crypto it has something to do with Garvan's constant mysterious business trips."

"Garvan?" the mother asked.

"Mr. Havanger dear, the owner and proprietor of this arena," the older lady explained. "He's one of the most influential men in town, but he's always gone on business and no one ever knows where to."

"I se-"

Suddenly, an earth-shattering crack resounded throughout the arena, cutting the mother off mid-sentence and causing the crowds to come to a standstill. Then the glass awning far above them exploded. Screams filled the air as Hervey covered his head with both hands and rocked forward as thousands of pebble-sized shards of glass rained down, pelting his back.

As the sound of tinkling glass faded away, Hervey uncurled and looked up to see a dark cloud form above them and drift into the now roofless arena. A chill ran down his spine as the dark mass slowly formed into a black shadow of a man. As if it were a creature summoned from the abyss, blazing red eyes flashed to life in the hovering apparition and glared down at them.

"Shield!" Light-pierce's amplified voice shouted from the announcer's box, and a giant, blue channeled shield sprung to life over the whole area as hundreds stood to their feet and threw their hands skywards, adding their energy to the defense spell.

A deep, bellowing laugh erupted from the soulless specter. Seconds later, a large portion of the arena's wall, high above Hervey, curled like a striking scorpion and smashed into the shield, shattering it and then exploding into a shower of dust and rock.

Once again, Hervey ducked and covered his head as debris rained down and women and children screamed in terror.

"Fools!" the shadow bellowed. "I am Lord Dy'Ixion, emissary of the supreme Emperor. If I so wished, I could crush every single one of you like the worthless worms you are. But I'm a benevolent man. I'll give you all one chance to save your pathetic lives."

A large, low-res scrying formed beside the red-eyed shadow, depicting pictures of Mr. Havanger, the grand and vice champion, the child who wore a black eye-patch, and a large man Hervey was certain was Alf.

"You have fifteen minutes to deliver these five people to me, chained and bound!" the specter bellowed. "If you fail to do so," lighting erupted from the shadowy image and burned along the upper rim of the arena, leaving deep, smoldering gauges in the stone, "I will bring this building down around your ears and feed on your life energy for my own entertainment. The clock," his voice hissed in the air, "starts now."

The shadow vanished, leaving the low-res scrying, depicting the five fugitives, hanging in the night sky.

What in Eldrin's name has Alf and the others done to incite the demon's wrath? Hervey thought.

Unintelligible babble erupted all around him until someone climbed up on the railing and shouted, "Well, what are you all waiting for?! I'm not dying for these people. I say we hand them over to the monster and save our own hides. What say you!?"

The crowd roared in agreement.

"Wait, wait!" Light-pierce shouted from the announcer's box, trying to calm down the people, but just as he started to say more, someone climbed over the side of the box and smashed a bottle over his head, then threw him down to the awaiting crowd below.

Hervey covered his mouth in horror as he clambered to his feet. He had to warn Mr. Havanger!

***

Back standing on his earthen pillar, Dy'Ixion cackled to himself as he watched the insects in the arena form into an organized mob.

The old man wouldn't even know what hit him.

***

Rex carefully took one step at a time as he ran down the long stairway. A sense of urgency rode him hard and he struggled to concentrate; he needed to get back to his father before that creature attacked again. Still, despite his caution, his foot missed a step and he reached out with his left hand to steady himself against the wall. As his hand met the surface, he jerked it back in surprise, then placed it on the wall once more.

Warm energy thrummed beneath his fingers.

Glancing out of the corner of his eye, he studied the wall in curiosity as he made his way downward.