Right in a big room was a round table with nine seats, and seven out of the nine were already occupied.
The room was spacious, surrounded by large windows covered with heavy curtains. Moulded statues stood at different angles throughout the space.
The White Elders sat around the table, holding a council meeting, though they were waiting for Zolomon to return from the Sentinels he had gone to meet, so that the meeting could commence.
The door opened, and Zolomon stepped in—his steps slithering and smooth as usual, his face stern.
He walked over to his seat and sat down. Now, only one seat remained unfilled, and it had been empty for the past twenty-one years—even before Zolomon became a White Elder. No one knew the real reason, except for what the Sentinels had claimed had happened.
"Zolomon, how did it go?" asked one of the White Elders sitting to his right.
"They declined, Salazar. No one is to look for Theodor Regnald, or ask about his whereabouts, or even conduct any research on anything related to him," Zolomon replied.
"And his post is not to be filled yet," he added.
He could sense the disappointment in their eyes. He knew there was no use in continuing the matter.
"That is it, then," said another man. He was bald and looked as though he was the eldest of them all. His name was Leprechun.
"The post is to remain unfilled. How are we to know the one who will advance to be the next Sentinel when the time comes?"
"Let them decide—I mean the Sentinels. This is no longer our concern," said an elder named Raphael, whose crooked face was scarred at the left eye.
"No, it is our concern," Zolomon began. "Things are changing in ways they shouldn't be, and—"
"They are the ones who make the rules, Zolomon, not you. They are the Sentinels, the overseers. And they have kept things smooth since after the Bloodbath—or should I say, the Purge," Leprechun said, his voice old and coarse.
"I don't think there's any further need for this gathering, then," Zolomon said, standing as the other elders did the same.
And slowly, they left.
Zolomon walked over to the empty chair that no one had sat on in years, a puzzled look on his face.
He moved to the back of the seat. Etched into it were the words:
"White Elder — Top Rank — Theodor Regnald."
******
The arena had started to fill with people, and Madame Hooch was hovering in the air over the hockey field.
She raised her hand, and the hockey field began to rumble violently. Just then, a circular ring formed—it was five thousand feet high.
There was a loud yell from the gathered crowd. It was the day the Arena Battles were beginning, and Madame Hooch was setting up the arena.
Just then, a White Elder stepped up to where the other White Elders sat. His eyes shimmered white, and a force field formed around the audience.
"NOW, THE DAY WE HAVE WAITED FOR—A DAY LIKE NO OTHER—THE OFFICIAL START OF THE ARENA BATTLES!" A loud hail followed Vocal's voice.
"We have seven hundred people who have advanced to this level, as well as those emerging into the Creche."
"And then," he continued, "five hundred more are to advance from the Creche." He added, "The battle begins today!" Vocal bellowed, and a wave of joy followed his voice.
Meanwhile, Lucy, Gwen, and Simma had checked the list of those fighting. Their fights were scheduled for that day.
Lucy was the fourth person to fight, and Gwen was the seventh.Simma, on the other hand, was the last person to battle—making the tenth and final fight of the day. The rest were to continue the next day.
After the fights before Lucy's had ended, it was finally her turn.
"Let us give it up for the guy nicknamed Massacre," Vocal called out, as Massacre stepped out for the fourth battle of the day.
Massacre stepped into the arena with a long spear, a sharp edge gleaming at its end. He was huge, muscular, and his hair was carved out neatly into designs.
"And his opponent—Miss Lucy!" Vocal continued, as a mix of cheers and boos echoed while Lucy stepped into the arena, two swords crossed like an X behind her back.
Madame Hooch stepped forward. "You remember the rules from the locker room," she said, then blew her whistle.
Immediately, Massacre marched forward. A huge pile of rock bounced up from the ground—he flipped over it and launched a powerful kick toward Lucy.
Lucy quickly drew her swords and sliced the rock in half—only to see Massacre pelting toward her, a clenched fist ready to strike.
She blocked it with her arms crossed over her face, but the punch still sent her flying backward.
She drove her swords into the ground as she skidded across the floor, the blades leaving a deep trail across the arena until she came to a stop near the edge of the ring.
She stood and threw a dirty look at Massacre, who had already taken a fighting stance again and was rushing at her.
Lucy leaned back and fell off the ring—but into a portal she had made behind her. Another portal appeared above, and she leapt out of it, landing squarely on Massacre's back, wrapping her arms tightly around his neck.
"Tap out, you son of a bitch!" she yelled, squeezing harder.
Massacre was choking, but he grabbed Lucy, flipped her over, and slammed her into the ground.
Without hesitation, he pulled a large rock from the ground and tried to smash her—but she rolled away into another portal just as the rock shattered against the arena floor.
She jumped out of another portal at the far end of the arena, breathing furiously.
Just then, Massacre's eyes glowed black. Shadows swirled around him, and from within them, a huge wolf—both Lucent and solid—materialized with a deafening howl. It was massive and dark, its canines deadly, its fangs sharp and menacing.
Lucy took the opportunity and charged. A portal opened in front of her. She jumped—and leapt out of another portal mid-air.
But as she flew, her eyes changed—and the Mannangal, huge and deadly, was behind her, already ready to strike.
The Mannangal swooped in and grabbed the shadow wolf, flinging it off the ground with one mighty wingbeat, lifting it effortlessly into the air.
Lucy smirked—she had timed him perfectly. She'd noticed earlier that it took him a while to summon his beast, and she'd been right.
The Mannangal hurled the wolf off the ring, then reappeared on the arena floor through a portal. In one swift motion, the whip of its spiky tail struck Massacre, sending him flying—straight out of the ring.
"OOHHH MY GOODNESS!" came Vocal's voice, bursting through the roaring arena.
"We have a winner!" he shouted, as a thunderous hail of cheers followed Lucy. Her beast stood tall behind her, growling loudly, wings spread and eyes glowing with primal fire.
She had done it.She had passed the second stage.
It wasn't long before it was Gwen's turn.
"Go and get them," Lucy said, giving Gwen a light pat on the back. Simma stood beside her, quiet but watching closely.
Gwen stepped out into the arena, nerves climbing. The crowd was loud—some cheering, some shouting. Hearing her name made her feel a little better, even if her stomach was tight with worry.
She spotted Sarah in the crowd, shouting and booing. Gwen ignored her and pulled out her sword.
"AND NOW, HER OPPONENT—BARKA, ALSO KNOWN AS THE FIRESTORM!" came Vocal's voice.
A flash of fire lit up the middle of the arena. Barka appeared through it, arms glowing, fire swirling around him. The crowd roared as he raised his hand.
"Remember the rules," Madame Hooch said, then blew her whistle.
Barka attacked first, throwing fireballs one after the other. Gwen dodged as fast as she could, trying to find a way to get close, but the flames kept blocking her.
Then he let out a louder stream of fire. Gwen raised her sword—and a soft purple light shimmered across it as it transformed into a large shield.
She held her ground, sweating, pushing forward step by step against the heat. When she got close enough, her eyes lit up briefly and she drew a small dagger from her side.
It changed into a heavier weapon, that looked like a metal fist, and she swung it hard, hitting Barka in the face and knocking him down.
She rushed at him, but Barka quickly turned on the floor and swept her legs from under her, brushing clean off the floor.
She hit the ground hard, her head bouncing off the floor.
Her ears rang. Her vision was blurry. The crowd was faint in the background.
She struggled to get up—but Barka had already summoned his Azrax.
A huge serpent, green and scaled, with two large arms and glowing yellow eyes, appeared. It was not a Lucent—this was the real thing.
Simma leaned forward from the stands."Come on, Gwen," he whispered. "Come on…"
Before she could react, the serpent swung the back of its large hand at her, and she was knocked into the air, completely off the ground.
Everything spun. Her body felt heavy.
"I have to finish this…" she thought faintly.
But her eyes closed.
And she started to fall.