WRITING
Somewhere far out blacksand annex, what looked like coliseum ruins stood alone amongst scorched earth. Millennia-old obsidian slabs line make up its exterior walls dulled by soot and time, while newer and shinier blocks line the interior ring. Here, spectators surrounded the pit where a snarling pearlcatcher prowled about.
The poor thing was without its pearl, clutching a dagger in its claws instead. Though even that seemed to have almost rusted through.
"Ladies and gentlemen! Tonight! We present you a bloodthirsty beast, a VICIOUS creature from the very depths of Hell..."
A booming voice brought the cheering to a near feverish pitch as the audience began their thunderous thumping against the stone parapets, eager for what's to come.
The grandmaster shook his wings out, an old imperial whose wings cut a great shadow over the coliseum. "BUT! Today our old mutt might have met his match! Would he survive and live to fight another day? Against this rising new star from the shifting expanse?"
Impossibly, the roar of the crowd seemed to grow louder, and so began the jeering.
"For fifteen straight matches she has remained undefeated. In just a few months, she has risen to queen of the beasts. Well let's see how well she fares, against our reigning champion, the PRIDE of the ANNEX! OUR own king! The HOUND!"
Flames erupt as the grandmaster drew his wings back and away, sending fire shooting up and up, bathing all in its terrible glow. He then snapped his jaws shut with a thunderous clack and dipped his head down again, smoke and ash curling like poisonous, black waves.
"Now let the games... BEGIN!"
With a rumble, the wheels of rusting cogs creaked and turned, hauling up a stone slab that slid slowly up, stone grinding against stone, until it was fully open and the audience were left to peer in the darkened halls behind the wall.
---
Burning, stinging fire. Invictus tried to claw around the area to relieve the pain from the lemon juice just poured into her eyes. Barely able to reach it under the bulk of her helmet, she was left to screech and buck. Her sides hurt, every breath taken was laborious and ached, and whoever it was that threw her against a pack of mirrors three days ago hadn't even bothered to change the bandages. They stuck to her side, and if the stink of the cells do not make her hurl, the rot of her own wounds will.
Roughly, the chains were then torn off and the slaves slunk back behind the bars of the hallway, leaving Invictus to scrabble against the walls in the dark, howling at the stone slab. The roar of the masses pales in comparison to the bellows of her fury.
As it slowly rose, she pulled back on her haunches and shied from the searing light spilling forth. The pain had begun to bring her to a wroth; feeling the fury bubbling beneath the surface of her hide, from hatred of the damned monsters who run this place and absolute detest of the low-lifes that had come to watch them fight.
The rage and pain built and built, until she could barely sense anything around her but the boiling of her blood. To tear. To rend. To break and to gut and to rip and to....
---
The grinding of the gates stopped. The blaring of a horn, and the baying of a dog.
From that pitch-black cave, the devil sprang out.
what? wrote:
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Not a foe to fight; nor might to vanquish,
but empty shadows; a bone-deep anguish.
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Ethereal Cinders
Dancing across the sky like
Harbingers of doom
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.......
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for
