Hafsa vanished in a puff of smoke. Light didn’t have time to register this. He stared at the monster who was ready to throw him into the hopeless pit. He blinked. The beast in front stood paralysed, Light didn’t hear any breathing. Had the mongrel died on the spot?

Light didn’t know what to expect.

No noise reached his ears. Only the sound of his heart drumming against his ribs broke the silence. This was his only chance to get away. As ludicrous as it sounded, he didn’t want to take part in this fight if he could help it. He tried to run. Nothing. As if something was pinning him in place, Light couldn’t move at all. Only his eyes blinked in the quiet darkness. He heaved with all his might but not an inch of muscle listened to his command. The exception was his heart, it whacked around in its cavity, frightened. The world was frozen. Light was terrified. What happened? How could this be?

Cortisol kicked in, adrenaline followed but Light stood rooted in despair. Something in his head told him not to fear, that this was normal, that this had always been the case and that he should wait. Wait for what? For something to sneak up on him while he was unable to move? This idea horrified him more than the stage of the amphithere. At least there he could fight till death but here, here was stuck, fixed in motion and unable to break free.

How did this happen? He tried to think. If he knew how he’d been paralysed he might be able to reverse the effect. Yes, his brain was starting to think logically. Light thought hard.

He kept thinking until his eyes deadened and his mind slept.

When he awoke he was not standing in the prison. Screams resonated all around. Spectators blasted cheers, deafening him. Light thought something was wrong. Something had happened, something that had terrified and shortened his life span by half. He just didn’t know what it was. The clue was in the back of his head, yet nothing came when he thought.

There was no time to dwell. He was standing in the middle of the stage. His opponent had just been announced. His heart turned to stone and fell into the pit of his stomach. His first enemy was his twin, Murk. Light didn’t know what to make of this. How did anyone expect him to try and wedge a sword into Murk?

Murk emerged from an opened portcullis. They had once been the same size. Then slowly but surely Murk had grown in size while Light was left stunted, at least that’s what he was told. Light didn’t remember that far back. He and Murk had never really gotten along the way siblings did. He supposed Murk tolerated him. They had different friends. They never really played much together. Did that mean they now had to try and kill each other? Light shook his head. This wasn’t right.

The deafening shrieks from the stadium muted. Light listened to the quickness of his own breath. The seats encircling him were filled with brutes who would enjoy this match. He squinted at them in the darkness and spun around. Each face brought hatred. He memorised these people as the vicious demons who wanted him to battle Murk.

More goading guffaws came from the underground cells nearest to the stadium. The saw endless pairs of silver eyes staring up through the small barred windows, trying to catch a glimpse of the latest match. Some prisoners poked their claws out through the openings hoping to catch an unfortunate player. Light didn’t plan to get caught under those claws. Not today.

Murk was grinning at him. Light grimaced. Apart from forgetting an important detail he swore to remember, his twin’s stupid smile was saying Murk was ready for this. Although they’d never been close, Light had a soft corner for him. However Murk was testing him with that grin.

Two deep lines drawn by the decaying bones of previous losers marked the starting positions. Light went to his spot. The scent of death and rot mingled together with a punching force. Light resisted the urge to vomit. The stink had washed Murk’s smile and left a grossed out scowl.

Light didn’t want to, but his eyes roamed the dead bones, mossy, cracked and growing brittle. Some of the bones were stained in a deep purple. Blood. A fat larvae wriggled, nibbling its way through an eye of one of the smirking skulls and for a moment even the skull grew petrified.

Light gulped. He didn’t want his bones to end up here, as a starting line for future battles. Murk took his position.

Facing each other now, Light saw no mercy in Murk’s eyes. He pursed his lips. For this battle he’d been allowed a sword, his little knives and a spear. Now he thought all these items pathetic.

Gritting his teeth, he waited patiently for the great bell. The tribe leaders were sitting bunched together, as if they were best friends out watching a movie, and not here to oversee fights to the finish. At their feet stood a gigantic, deformed, hideous bell. This was a vermillion coloured bell, at least, that’s what Light had heard the colour was. He couldn’t see this colour because the bell was covered in revolting skins of previous losers. The decay reached his stomach before his nose sensed it. Light gagged.

An unfeeling rustle of cold air passed through him. He shuddered. “I won’t end up there,” Light whispered to himself. “I’ll get through this. I know I will.”

One of Murk’s ears picked up his words. A giggle came from his snake head. “Scared are we?” Murk hissed. The snaking part of him towered dauntingly high over the rest of his body.

The great bell swung from left to right. A slow, low pitched knell echoed, swallowing the whooping and leaving a stenching quietness. Everyone jumped to their feet, in ironic mourning. The toll drawled on. Even the bones rattled as if they knew the meaning of the funeral sound.

Once the bell came to a stop, the ginormous Murk leapt for Light. Roars erupted around them. Claws pumped the damp air of light fog. The tiered crowd was transfixed.

Light dodged the first attempt on his life. His pitiful eyes blinked back a stream of tears. Shivering, he brandished his sword. There was no time to think about where to plunge. Murk wouldn’t allow for that. The monstrous twin leapt at him with vicious teeth. Until now Light was thinking about the bones and not wanting to be skinned after death. He’d forgotten the possibility of becoming food.

Light swallow and ashened further than his pale skin allowed, contrasting the dark rags he garbed. The merciless taunts of the audience resonated loudest in his ears.

His eyes fell onto his opponent, a beastly chimera, part bear, wolf and snake. Murk rose on its hind legs and snapped ferociously at him. An unconsented yelp left Light’s mouth. He didn’t want to fight. This he disclosed with each shake of his head and the shuffle of footsteps he took backwards.

The scent of bloodlust was upon them. The rancid stench of blood drifted through his clothes. He was bleeding, Light realised. Murk’s crooked teeth had gnawed his shoulder successfully.

Derisive jeers waged against him. He wasn’t the favourite to win. All he had with him were useless weapons. Instinctively he scurried backwards, the hilt of his sword resting in the grip of his