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Chapter 10 - Mystery attacker

We passed through dark hallways and tunnels, till we reached a door made of rusted steel and rotting wood. Seconds later, the doors opened with a screech that echoed through the halls like the screams of the dead and dying. And as we passed through, it was like entering a new world—a world of stone walls and weapon racks.

Yet my attention was drawn from the arena when I heard the doors screech again, but this time to close, trapping me in the shadowed room. Though it was dark, I could see. The shadows did not part, but they hid nothing either.

So I approached the weapon racks, and I saw what they held—weapons of all kinds: daggers, axes, swords, and weapons I did not know the names of. But I could hear them speak. Some spoke of power, others screamed with madness, for bloodshed, and yet others whispered seductive venom. I was tempted by all of them—of strength, of power, of glory.

But then I heard her—a voice. It spoke of honor, of purpose. And when my eyes fell on the blade that had spoken to me, I saw a curved blade that shone with a silver light, and on it were carved words of a language I did not know. As my fingers wrapped around its handle, the sword seemed to shift to fit me perfectly, and I knew this blade was meant for me.

But as I admired my new blade, I heard footsteps behind me, and so I turned around in a rush, swinging my sword. But as I turned, my sword met resistance, and with great force it was pushed aside. Not even a second later, a hand wrapped around my neck and slammed me onto the floor.

And finally, I was greeted by the sight of my attacker's face—black-furred, with a scar stretching over his left eye, the other a glowing red.

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