I had been thrown to the wolves.
The moment I stepped into the arena, the noise hit me like a snapping punch: the chants, the roaring, the insatiable bloodlust.
Word had spread quickly through the outpost of Kragmôr Hold about the war prisoners. I saw goblins and hobgoblins had packed the Gore Pit from wall to wall, their ugly, twisted faces snarling and desperate to see intestines spilled.
Rusty swords clanked against bone railings as they drooled and cackled.
I felt their eyes on me, measuring me, imagining how I'd look torn open on the stone floor. Maybe even how I'd tasted.
Beside me stood two others.
Knights of Aurelion, stripped of their swords, their armor, and whatever dignity they had left. Like my own, their hands were bound by rope.
In their ragged garments, their exposed arms were a map of their suffering. I could see burns, cuts, and bruises. Some wounds were fresh, others had faded. They were in Kragmôr for at least half a month.
I, on the other hand, was only recently captured. I was wandering the Frostvein Mountains alone, powering through a relentless blizzard, when a goblin scouting party found me. They dragged me to Kragmôr and searched me, snatching my coins, my provisions, and my favorite wolf-pelt cloak.
After a brief one-sided conversation with the hold's chieftain - who had promised to eat my heart and liver - I was taken straight to the pit.
The crowd suddenly grew louder.
"Let me chew on their bones!" a goblin shrieked, pounding the railing hard enough that it loosened fragments of bone.
"I want the blonde one's blue eyes!" another yelled. "They'll look good on my mantlepiece!"
"You'll ruin them!" a third voice screeched. "I want his eyes for my morning gruel!"
Shrill laughter tore through the stands.
Of course, they were referring to me. I was the only blonde prisoner. The other two had coarse brown hair.
"We're done for…" the knight to my left muttered, his shoulders slumping. "Corvin, my friend, it's been an honor serving Aurelion beside you."
To my right, Corvin's eyes welled up. "And to you, Branek… and to you."
Before the three of us loomed an enormous wooden gate. Embedded deep within: spears, arrows, and broken blades, left behind by those who had fought and died in the pit. Dark blotches of dried blood stained the wood in uneven, foul hues.
At the top of the gate, above a jagged row of iron spikes, a heavy chain begins to move.
The gate was rising.
Wood groaned. Dust and dried blood flaked loose as a black gap gradually opened beneath it. Behind us, iron scraped against stone. A hobgoblin guard slammed the iron-barred door shut and twisted the lock.
There was no escape. No mercy.
"Corvin, Branek," I finally spoke. My voice was confident and assured. "You're both Knights of Aurelion, correct?"
"Aye, stranger," Branek replied coldly. "Fourteen years under the Divine... I've fought countless battles and spilled much blood in His name."
"Fourteen years?" I repeated and smiled. "You have my respect. Faith like that is not easily kept."
I turned my gaze to the other knight. "And you, Corvin?"
Corvin met my eyes for a moment, then looked back at the gate.
"One," he said bluntly. "Only one."
I caught the despair buried in his tone and nodded in quiet understanding.
"A year… that's-"
"Nothing," Corvin cut me off. "Before I joined the brotherhood, before Aurelion's light gave me a new lease... I was a street urchin. A pocket fiddler. A thief, riddled with ailments and lice."
His jaw tightened.
"Just as my life was turning around, when things were getting better... I end up here, on the verge of death."
Silence fell upon us, and somehow, it drowned out the bloodthirsty chants.
"No," I said, slicing through it. "You won't die."
Corvin turned to me again.
"Fate doesn't toy with men like that. Not after it's already given them a second chance. You still have a lot left to achieve, Corvin, and you will live long enough to achieve them."
Branek let out a short, humorless laugh.
"Live?" he said, shaking his head. "Have you lost your mind? Look at us, we're tied up in a goblin outpost, about to be killed."
Branek glanced toward the rising gate and the darkness beyond.
"Fourteen years in servitude have taught me plenty... Our Lord cannot stop the blades or beasts of our enemies. So unless you're hiding a miracle beneath those rags of yours, stranger, you're lying to the boy."
I turned to Branek.
"Oh, you think I'm lying?"
My voice went quiet, but every word carried weight.
"Then allow me to disprove you." I allowed the quietness to stretch. "All I ask of you both is this... renounce your god."
I take a small step forward.
"And commit yourselves to me instead."
Branek's eyes narrowed. For the first time, the veteran knight looked unsettled, caught between disbelief and instinct. As if he couldn't decide whether I was a fool or a madman.
"This man's deluded, brother," Branek said. "He's shaken and disturbed."
The chains rattled one last time as the gate finally opened.
Then it stepped forward.
A hulking ogre, taller than any man, with a belly so wide it swayed with each step. Its skin was a sickly gray, marred with old scars and streaks of dried blood. In its massive hand, it gripped a spiked club, smeared with the gore of past victims.
The crowd erupted into a frenzy. Goblins and hobgoblins clawed at the railings, shouting for the carnage to begin.
Branek froze. Corvin's hands trembled, gripping the hem of his ragged garments.
I, however, stood calm.
The ogre stomped closer, each step thudding like a drumbeat. Its spiked club scraped along the stones and gravel, leaving gouges where it passed.
And then it stopped. Its menacing gaze fell squarely on the three of us.
"You don't have much time," I said evenly. "In a few seconds, this monster will attack."
Branek stiffened.
"Renounce Aurelion, and I'll save your lives."
To my right, the young knight swallowed a nervous lump. Faced with imminent death, Corvin was questioning himself. Questioning his decisions and beliefs.
The ogre's shadow stretched across the arena floor, swallowing their feet. Its breath came in wet, rumbling huffs, thick with the stink of blood.
"I..." Corvin's voice trembled. "I don't want to die, Branek."
Branek shot him a concerned look. "Corvin..."
"I've given Aurelion everything," Corvin said, panic edging his words. "Everything I had. And now I'm here, about to be slaughtered."
His eyes lifted to me, and I saw desperation in them.
"Please save us."
Corvin then looked to Branek.
"I'm sorry, brother."
For a heartbeat, the veteran knight said nothing. His face had gone rigid, as if carved from stone.
"You would abandon Him?" Branek asked quietly, which made Corvin flinch. "One year in the light, and you throw it away the moment darkness bares its teeth? To this... nameless heretic, no less?"
The ogre slumped forward, bellowing and belching. Thick strands of saliva fell from its tusks as it approached its next victims, its next meal.
"For goodness' sake, Corvin, he is a mere man!" Branek snapped. "No different to you or me! He isn't a god."
"Time is running out," I stated. "What about you, Branek?"
Branek's gaze burned into me, hurt and fury twisting together.
"Go to Hell," he said. "Better to die faithful than bend the knee to some false prophet."
I nodded once.
"Understood," I said. "Well, one out of two isn't bad, I suppose. Perhaps I should be a little more convincing next time."
I glanced at the two knights beside me - one trembling, the other defiant - and gave them both a small, snide smile.
"Gentlemen..."
I yanked my arms outward.
The ropes binding my wrists ripped apart as if they were nothing more than wet twine. Fibers snapped and scattered. I rolled my hands, flexing them until I felt sensation again. The skin was tender, but after a brief rub, color was restored.
Branek and Corvin caught their breath.
The ogre roared, and the Gore Pit's noise dipped ever so slightly.
In my mind, I ran through a short checklist. To be believable, every demonstration had to follow a proper order. The first was already complete.
A display of raw strength.
The rope had been tough - woven from pine root fibers. Tearing free from it hadn't just surprised the knights; I'd felt a shift ripple through the stands as well. A pause in the ruckus. A few goblins and hobgoblins were bewildered.
Onto the next step: a display of physical durability.
The ogre roared again, louder this time, and charged. Each step sent a vibration through the pit. Its belly fat jiggled as it raised the spiked club overhead, muscles bunching beneath scarred skin.
I chose not to move.
The club came down and struck my shoulder with a deafening crack.
Pain flared - sharp, irritable - but my feet stayed planted. The floor beneath me fractured, spiderwebbing outward, yet I did not fall. The impact drove me half a step into the ground, dust exploding around my ankles.
The club bounced back.
The ogre was stunned, as was the crowd.
Slowly, I straightened up and rolled my shoulder several times over. Where the ogre's blow had landed, my tunic had torn, its fabric shredded. But underneath, the skin was unbroken. Only a faint bruise had begun to surface, and even that was fading.
A hush crept through the goblins and hobgoblins. The maniacal laughter and chanting died down, trailing off into uneasy murmurs.
Branek stared at me, eyes wide despite himself.
"Impossible..." he breathed.
I didn't answer him. My attention shifted to the ogre.
The creature blinked and snorted. Its red eyes narrowed as it tried to understand what it was seeing. Then it roared and raised its club high again, preparing for a second strike.
It came down like a thunderclap - and I met it with an open palm.
The impact never reached me. Every ounce of the ogre's momentum, every shred of brute force it had mustered, ground to a halt the instant it touched my hand.
The sudden stop made the monster lose its grip, releasing the weapon and driving both its hands into the stone floor. Dust and shards of rock flew in all directions.
I held the wobbling club above the downed ogre. It was now mine to do with as I pleased.
A low, rumbling snort laced with pain escaped the beast. For all its size and strength, the ground beneath it - and I - were stronger. Its massive knuckles had borne the full weight of its own momentum and body, and failed.
The ogre tried flexing its fingers. They were mangled and twisted, snapped in several places.
There were no cheers, no chants. The audience of twisted and corrupt elves was in shock. They didn't know whether to flee or continue watching in awe.
Branek's mouth hung open. Corvin's trembling hands gripped his prison garments tighter, but his eyes held something new: recognition.
Step three was complete: humiliate my opponent.
And for the final phase, I needed only to end the ogre's miserable existence.
I tossed the spiked club aside as if it weighed nothing. The beast knelt before me, mentally broken and in agony. I took two deliberate steps forward and wrapped my hands around either side of its massive head.
With almost no effort - just a precise, simple tug - I plucked it from its shoulders.
Viscous, black blood erupted from the body like a geyser, spraying across the stones and, frustratingly, onto my tunic. The headless ogre shuddered once, then collapsed entirely, limbs flailing before it settled.
It was done.
Goblins and hobgoblins spilled out of the Gore Pit, howling in terrified shrills.
"He's killed Bloodmaw! The bloody man-filth's killed Bloodmaw!"
"Fetch the chieftain! Get the flamin' shamans out 'ere!" another screamed.
Chaos ensued. Tiny bodies scrambling over one another in the stands, their panic spreading faster than wildfire.
I stared into Bloodmaw's lifeless eyes, then at my tunic, slick with blood.
"Well," I muttered, wrinkling my nose, "that's revolting."
I dropped the ogre's head and gagged, the stench of iron and rot reaching my nose.
"I... I've never seen anything like that," Corvin whispered, his voice barely steady.
Branek took a shaky step forward.
"Aurelion sent you," he said. "Didn't He? You were sent to test us. To challenge our faith. To see who would remain steadfast."
The veteran's conviction hardened, even as doubt crept through the cracks.
"This is a trial!" Branek added. "A divine one, to prove our devotion!"
Corvin looked at him, then at me, with uncertainty.
"No," I said. "No tests. No trials. No riddles."
I wiped a streak of black blood from my arm and turned to meet Branek's gaze.
"No god sent me, I'm not here to measure your faith."
I allowed another silence to press in, heavy and uncomfortable.
"You weren't saved by a god today," I said quietly. "At least, not a conventional one... You were spared because I chose to act."
My eyes moved between them.
"Remember that."
Corvin and Branek exchanged glances, their thoughts clearly racing. Their minds swirled with questions, each one more dangerous than the last. How could someone who wielded such irrefutable power not be a god?
I moved toward Corvin first.
He flinched, but didn't resist as I took hold of the rope binding his hands. With a sharp twist and a pull, the fibers tore apart. The rope fell away uselessly.
Corvin stared at his free hands, breathing heavy.
Then I stepped to Branek. He stood firm, eyes burning with conflict.
"So," I said. "Sir Branek of Aurelion. Protector of the Lord of Light and Life... Will you join and help me instead?"
He shut his eyes, and for a long moment, he said nothing.
The panicked screams, the background chaos, the ogre's blood beneath his bare feet - none of it seemed to matter.
"... I have prayed my whole life," Branek then said softly. "Bled for Aurelion. Killed in His name. And when death came for me, He did not answer."
Branek's eyes opened.
"I do not know who you are. God, devil, or something in between. But power does not lie... and neither does silence. So yes, I will join you. I will lend you my sword, my strength, and whatever life I have left - if you will still have it."
His words settled heavily in the air.
"Brilliant," I said with a smile. "Two for two."
I reached out and tore the rope from Branek's wrists as easily as I had Corvin's.
"You'll find," I added lightly, "that I'm far more corporeal - and far more responsive - than Aurelion ever was."
"What's your name, stranger?" Corvin asked quietly.
I paused.
"That's a very good question," I said at last. "One I stopped answering a long time ago."
I looked down at my leather boots, also stained black with Bloodmaw's blood.
"I don't know it anymore," I continued. "Because I'm no longer the person I used to be."
Branek frowned. "Then what should we call you?"
"For now, you may call me Stranger," I said. "When the time is fitting, I'll share everything with you both."
I gazed up toward the emptied stands, and then toward the tunnels that led deeper into Kragmôr.
"I think it's wise that we leave this arena rather promptly," I said calmly. "We don't want to still be here when their shamans arrive and start hurling fireballs."
Something then amused me. I had remembered what the chieftain had promised. It made me chuckle and shake my head in disbelief.
"I also need to settle a score with the goblin chieftain," I added.