Cloaked | Book 1

Chapter 3

 The first thing Vivian noticed when her blindfold was ripped off was the brightness. It was the kind of brightness that sears into people's retinas, making their eyes screw tightly shut for fear of going blind; a brightness that would make fresh snow look gray and dull. It was a brightness to rival the sun itself. She also noticed two Familiars that stood before her, scowling.

"Today's the day, isn't it?" She asked them, smiling upward in a manner that appeared to be almost fiendish. They remained silent, still as statues.

A shove sent the girl to her feet, and Vivian couldn't help but cry out as the chains on her wrists tightened in the men's grips. The skin around her wrist was already bloody and raw. As they yanked her out of the room, she could not help but feel relieved to be out of the mildewed and damp cell. But she also felt a cold pit of dread in her stomach for where they were taking her.

The guards maintained a quick pace through the prison halls and Vivian struggled to keep up in the guard's grip. Hatred crackled through the air, leaving a bad taste in Vivian's mouth.

"You must hate me," She suddenly said. "I understand. But you must fear me as well. I killed your buddy without touching him. Aren't you scared that you're next?"

The two meaty men paused, their marching steps hesitating.

"What? Did I hit a-"

Bright stars burst in her vision as the thickly knuckled guard on her right took a swing, hitting her right eye dead center. Vivian stumbled, dazed for a moment. Her feet gained purchase and she kicked the guards legs out from under him, sending him to the ground with a loud thud.

The guard on her left drew his fist back in turn and socked her low in the gut. A wheezy cough left her throat. She was she the impact had burst a few blood cells, if not destroying her insides all together. Her face and stomach burned with fiery pain. The first guard had finally regained his footing, and took the opportunity of Vivian favoring her body to slam her against the cement wall beside them. Her teeth bit down harshly on her tongue and she whimpered.

The guards kicked her legs apart, continuing their assault. In the end, thick scarlet blood dripped onto the floor. It was smeared against the wall, large red handprints adorning the grey cement like decor. The whole ordeal was stupid, but it had drawn out the time Vivian had before she died. Besides, she couldn't let the guards think that, through all of this, she had become a pansy.

The two men dragged Vivian down the rest of the hall. Her mouth felt thick and her brain worked slow. Her feet dragged beneath her, sometimes aiding themselves with a few steps, sometimes letting the two cell keepers carry her. The hallway ended in a pair of heavy iron doors, thick bars preventing inmates from breaking through the glass that served as a viewing point. Soft whirs and clicks interrupted the silence. An icy blast of wind pushed Vivian's clumped, dark hair from her wet cheeks and she inhaled deeply.

The first thing Vivian noticed was the sun. The light was weak and pale; the way the winter sun often presented itself in her province. Without the bright spring color of vegetation and the warmth of the sun's rays, winter was only thrown into sharp illumination. Then Vivian saw where she was.

It was an arena. High grey walls held thousands of seats, which held thousands of spectators dressed in bright, colorful garb. The ground was a packed sand finish, pebbles and uneven terrain sprayed across its surface. The rumble of caterwauling voices penetrated her ears and Vivian wondered how she hadn't heard it behind the iron doors. In the center of the stadium was a platform made of sleek obsidian. A neatly braided rope dangled from a long pole on the platform, a loop tied at its end.