by T. C. Edge
But here, with Ares, he wasn't putting orders into his head. He wasn't taking him under temporary control. He was stripping away everything Vesper had planted, ripping them away root and stem. He was removing her influence, and yet nod adding his own. He was leaving Ares with his own choice, as all men should have.
To stay by Vesper's side, and kill them all as she desired. Or to turn from her, and join the ranks of light.
So as he completed the job, and withdrew, he looked upon Ares' face.
He smiled as he witnessed the milky quality of his eyes fade off.
"The future is in your hands, my friend," he said. "Now you are free."
122
Ares stood before Polus, his face taken by a sudden calm. Polus withdrew his hands and took a step back. He looked to Finn.
"It's OK," he whispered. "Release him."
Finn took a sudden breath, gasping as if he'd suddenly broken the surface after an extended time beneath the waves. He took in a few quick gulps of air, sweat streaming down his forehead, and all eyes turned to Ares. From below, a clanging was sounding, filtering up towards the box. The contest was still in flow. And now Finn's mind turned to his friends.
As with Gwyn, he looked to Polus for consent to leave, his job here done. The telepath smiled and nodded.
Finn, swift as a swooping swallow, rushed for the side of the balcony, leaping over the edge. He was gone, and just in time...
But in the gallery, the heavy tension was beginning to lift. Polus inspected Ares closely, watching every tiny micro expression. It was his eyes that were most scrutinised, blinking as though waking from a long, dreary dream.
Ares looked up at Polus, and his sword-arm, now released by Finn, fell gently to his side. It hung loose there, as his eyes took in the world, seeing it properly for the first time in so long. His eyebrows pinched, a pensive look gathering on his face. And then, gradually, it built into anger.
He turned around, and his gaze went for Vesper.
She was quivering now in fright, cowering behind her throne. She tried to raise a smile.
"Ares, my dear Ares," she whispered. "Remember your loyalty. Remember your oaths."
Dom watched from his seat as Ares drew forward, his attention constantly switching from the action unfolding below, and the tension in the box. He was mesmerised, amazed. He looked upon his mother, surrounded now only by enemies. Her eyes were fluttering wildly, turning left and right. They even sought Dom, pleading for his support. The world was closing in. Her comeuppance had come.
Ares didn't speak as he ventured forwards. He stepped slowly, intimidatingly towards Vesper, before deviating his path and heading for Dom. He reached down and took a grip of his metal shackles, tearing them apart with his strength, unbinding his wrists and ankles. He looked upon the bruising and cuts, the many injuries he'd inflicted, and bowed his head low.
"Will you ever forgive me?" he asked. "For what I did to you?"
Dom was quick to reach out and lift his granite chin.
"Ares, you have always been my hero. You will never need to ask my forgiveness."
Ares bowed lower, and Polus stepped from the rear of the gallery. The three men gathered around, moving for the pathetic frame of Vesper, tucked up against her throne.
"Domitian...my son," trembled her voice. "You remember...don't you? You remember how we were? You were my darling. You still are, my gorgeous son. I...I've been taken by a monster. There's something evil inside me. But...it's me now, Domitian. I'm still here. Help me. Please, you have to help me..."
Her words poured, increasingly frantic and desperate. And even after all she'd done, they had an effect on Dom. He felt a pulse of the past in his heart, and saw in a very brief moment what she once was, what they were. Her eyes were large and weeping, her breast heaving as she gasped, looking around as the vultures closed in.
Ares' sword was beginning to rise menacingly. He turned to Dom.
"I will end this now," he said. "With your permission, Emperor."
The word struck at Dom. Emperor. He winced at hearing it, and lifted his palm.
"No, Ares, no," he said.
He moved forward to where his mother cowered, and drew her up to her feet. Her eyes, dripping tears, were blinking furiously, trying to stay low.
"Look at me, mother," said Dom firmly. "Look me right in the eye."
She didn't. She shook her head, sniffing and mumbling.
"Please, save me, Domitian. I'm locked in here, I'm not in control. You know me, the real me..."
"LOOK AT ME!" Dom roared, cutting her off.
His sudden outburst was enough to force her eyes up. He needed just a flash, swiftly entering her mind and reading her thoughts.
And beyond the veil, beyond the lies, he saw only darkness. There was nothing of her left inside. She was gone.
He drew back, and shook his head.
And she knew. She knew he'd seen the truth.
A sharp, hawkish glare met him, spreading from her dark eyes.
"Weak," she growled, changing again. "Even now you're too weak..."
She lifted her hand, and tried to slap him, right on his badly bruised cheek. Ares' reaction was swift, catching her before she could connect. She glared at him too, spitting in his face.
"Weak! You're all weak!" she cried out. "You are no son of mine, Domitian! Julius..." Her eyes swept into a frown. "Julius," she repeated, a panic flashing. "Where is Julius? Where is my real son? Don't hurt him! Please don't hurt him!"
"You would think that, wouldn't you." Dom's voice was dark and cold. "You see, mother, I am your real son, but I'm nothing like you. Julius is innocent. He hasn't yet been corrupted by you. And now, he never will."
Dom looked down over the sand. He'd almost forgotten, in all the chaos, that Kira's fate hung by a thread. What he saw drew a smile.
He looked to Ares again, bypassing his mother's hateful snarl.
"Take her to the sand," he said. "This is something all the world deserves to see."
Gwyn's arrival by Kira's side had been a great surprise on so many levels.
As Gwyn had dislodged Jaeger's weapon, and pulled Kira to her feet, the flame-haired girl could only exclaim loudly, "What are you doing here!"
Gwyn dropped a wink.
"I'll explain later. Looks like we've got work to do."
Standing ahead of them, Jaeger had hurried to collect his sword. He faced his opponent, now with an ally, and opened out his arms in bemusement.
"What the hell is this?" he called out. "This isn't how the fight's meant to go!"
"Fight's over," Jaeger, Gwyn had said. "Put down your swords, and submit. She isn't even watching anymore."
Gwyn's hand stretched to the balcony, guiding Jaeger's eyes to Vesper. The Empress was turned the other way, shrieking something inaudible.
Jaeger turned back.
"A coup. Is that what this is? You're traitors now!"
He roared and poured forward, taking both Gwyn and Kira off-guard. He had flown into a rage, the two girls struggling to hold back the storm. They worked together, defending each other, deflecting the blows that came too close. Gwyn was cut, on several occasions, and Kira suffered further wounds. For a couple of minutes they managed to hold back the thunderous storm. Any longer and they'd both have been killed.
And then, just as their brave resistance was fading, he came.
Rushing onto the sand, with a golden aura surrounding him, Finn flew into action, hauling a billion grains of grit into a ball and swallowing Jaeger up as he struck out for the killing blow.
The golden sands amassed so quickly, drawing together from all corners. Within the blink of an eye, Jaeger had been consumed, lost amid the pulsing yellow mass.
But it didn't keep him down. With a burst, the grains spread away, exploding from his form. He stood there, rage boiling, and turned his eyes only to Finn. The two stood face to face, and Finn shook his head.
"It's over, Jaeger," he said. "Your Empress is finished. There's no need
to die alongside her."
Jaeger seemed unable to control himself, reason having no impact. He bellowed and came again, but Finn was too quick. He slipped right, tossing Jaeger against the nearest wall. His body was flung like those of the Imperial Guards, cracking loudly against the stone.
He fell into a heap, wheezing.
Finn wandered towards him. The sands were his.
"Give it up, Jaeger," he said. "I'll give you one final chance. Think clearly and calmly. Who do you wish to serve? The Empress, or what she represents? Do you serve the person or the throne?"
He ventured closer, Jaeger still struggling for breath as he clambered to his feet. Finn's confidence was supreme. He drew close enough to reach out and take Jaeger's shoulders.
"Think," he repeated. "Think about what you're doing."
Jaeger began to nod, his head low.
It was a ruse, and nothing more.
With a final explosion, he launched into an attack, pulling a knife from his back and thrusting it right for Finn's neck. It went like a bullet, cutting past his skin and into his flesh.
But there, only a few millimetres in, it stopped.
Jaeger's hand was shaking, trying to push further. His entire body was locked, immobilised. Finn pulled his neck away from the knife and looked at his foe.
"I guess you've made your choice," he growled.
With those words, a sickening series of cracks spread out into the stands, bones snapping and breaking, one after another. Finn's eyes were of fury, his tolerance at its end. With his mind alone, he crushed Jaeger's body, bending limbs backwards and squeezing his armour tight. Jaeger's roar of agony came and ended abruptly.
Before he even knew it, he was dead.
The crowd were silent as Finn walked to his friends, and gathered them up into a hug as Dom looked down from above with a smile.
The three gladiators, dressed in red, blue, and green, were a multicoloured marvel, giving the people of Neorome a glimpse of the truth. They were not slaves. They were not tools to be tossed here to fight, and to die. They were people. They were friends. They would kill for each other, and die too.
The people looked at them and saw real life, not the show the games had become.
It would be the last fight they'd ever witness upon these hallowed sands.
But not the last death.
As Vesper was hauled off by Ares, wriggling hopelessly in his grip, Dom stared down at the three gladiators he'd stolen from their lands. He could return them home now, send them to where they belonged. It would be a start, going some way towards repaying them for what he'd done.
Yet it was a journey that had no end. He'd spend the rest of his days repenting, making up for all of his sins.
It would start right now, with the death of his mother.
As he looked, he heard a sudden scuffle breaking out to his side. He turned to the right, where many of the lords and ladies, stricken by fear as everything played out, where gathered. Among them, Lord Pontius had cowered, hoping to be ignored. Now, he was in Lucius' grip, being dragged out towards the middle of the gallery, a knife in Lucius' hand.
"Lucius, my son, what are you doing!" he called.
Dom turned and watched, but didn't interfere. Pontius was pleading as his mother did. And Lucius, gripping his neck, had a long hidden hate in his eyes, finally unleashed.
"Your son," Lucius grumbled. "Your son..."
He shut his eyes, and pressed the knife to Pontius' heart, cutting through his outer robes. Pontius yelped and grimaced at the sudden pain as the tip reached his flesh.
"Lucius, why!" he cried out, trying to escape his son's grip. "We...we were meant to..."
"To rule together," finished Lucius, nodding. "Oh, that was the plan. Dom and I had other ideas."
Pontius eyes swerved to Dom, dipping in shame.
"My Prince. I...I never meant for this. I didn't want to harm you."
"You're speaking with the Emperor," came Lucius' voice, snapping his father's eyes back. "Address him properly."
"Yes, of course. Emperor Domitian. I beg of you, please. I only meant to defeat your mother. I never meant to..."
"And yet, you did," said Dom calmly. "You took me hostage, had me tortured, and were going to execute me. That is correct, is it not?"
"I..."
"It was a rhetorical question, Lord Pontius. I know the truth, ever since Lucius brought it to me. And yet, I understand your reasoning. I agree with your secret war against my mother. Given my recent actions, I think it's safe to say we have been aligned on this issue. I have no quarrel with that, and can even understand why you'd torture me for information to help you get to her, and would have me killed after, seeing as I'd be a threat. I'm not lying to you when I tell you I understand. And yet, Lord Pontius, this isn't about that. It's about something else, isn't that right, Lucius?"
Pontius turned to his son again, his eyes crafted in fear and confusion.
"My son, what is it? Tell me why!"
"Why," growled Lucius, his words darkening, his chest heaving as if trying to draw up the courage to do what was necessary. "You ask me why, father. You don't know me at all. You never truly have."
"I know you! You are my son!"
"Yes! I am. And yet, I've been treated like dirt for years. I've been coerced into doing things I never wanted. I've been turned against my brother. I've been used as a tool for you to gain power. Oh, father, I know what you are. And I would have you join Vesper down on the sand to meet your fate...if I didn't want to deliver it myself."
Pontius' face curled into a final, pleading swamp. His eyes watered and lips quivered, and Lucius looked at him with no remorse at all.
He shook his head, and set his jaw.
"But above all, father," he whispered, "this is for her."
And thinking of the girl he loved, the girl he was forced to murder, he plunged the dagger into his father's heart, and let him fall to the ground at his feet.
Kira stood with Finn and Gwyn, the eyes of the arena upon them. She was in brisk conversation, her questions hurrying as she looked at her friends in wonder. Finn cut her off with another hug.
"Later," he said. "We'll explain it all later."
At that moment, as Pontius' heart was pumping its last round of blood out onto the balcony floor, a gate squealed open to one side. Kira looked over to see Ares marching forward, a bundle of thrashing limbs hauled upon his shoulder.
He reached the centre, as the crowd watched in silence, tossing Vesper to the floor. Her squealing ended abruptly as she hit the sand, the air punched out of her lungs. She rolled about for a moment, wheezing to catch her breath, before clambering to her feet, her fine robes dirty and stained with grit.
Her eyes still held panic. She tried to rush off, but found Gwyn stepping in her way. She chose another direction and found Finn. She turned, and shuddered at the sight of Ares. Finally, she looked upon Kira.
Her panic was replaced with a sickening look of contempt.
"You!" she spat. "All of this is down to you!"
She drew out her claws and tried to attack, scratching at Kira's face. Kira stepped aside, leaving a trailing foot. Vesper tripped upon it, plummeting back to the earth.
"It doesn't feel good, does it, Vesper," said Kira, stalking her fallen frame. "It's not nice being out here, on show, hopeless and set to die. How do you feel? Frightened? Panicked?" She looked to the others. "We can relate. We understand. And now, maybe you can see what you've done."
Vesper's face stayed in the dirt. A heavy weeping was now convulsing through her frame. She lifted her face, half covered in sand, her makeup running all over. Kira felt no sympathy for the woman. She felt no pity. She had earned what was coming a thousand times over. Never had there been a person more deserving of this fate.
Up above now, Dom was standing at the front of the balcony once more, the throne to his side. Kira looked up, and locked eyes with him. A soft smile rose between them, drawing simultaneously on their lips. Then she saw
a man beside him, tall and with a thick, frosted black beard and flowing grey hair.
Yet behind the beard and the years of ageing, she recognised his face. She'd seen it so many times during her research, smiling broadly to the people, or with a sharp look of intensity as he fought right here, on the sand, decades ago.
Polus...it cannot be...
She looked quickly to Finn and Gwyn, who smiled with expressions that said, 'We'll explain it all later.'
Her eyes swept back to the man, disbelieving. And then, within the quiet stadium, she heard him speak.
"Emperor Domitian," he said. "Perhaps you should take your throne?"
Dom looked to the seat to his side, crafted to his mother's shape. He took a long pause, and shook his head.
"No, Polus," he said. "I will not follow where she sat."
He lifted his hand, drawing several guards from the rear.
"Take it away," he said.
The chair was hauled from the front of the gallery, and Dom stepped to its vacated space. He turned to his right, to Lucius, still glowering and shrouded in darkness.
"Come here, brother," Dom said.
Lucius dispelled some of the shade, turning his gaze from his murdered father, and stepped into the light beside Dom. Dom hugged him tight, and whispered into his ear.
"Together."
Then he turned to the crowd, the large screens capturing his face and spreading it across the city.
"The days of Vesper are done," he called out. "The days of a single ruler are done. A new throne will be build, sat upon not by a single man." He took Lucius' hand, and raised it aloft. "Lucius and I shall serve this city together as equals," he called out. He looked at his friend again and smiled. "It was our dream as children to do so, and so that dream will come true. Together, we will strip away the darkness that Vesper spread. We will return this city to the light, and to the greatness it once held. We will usher in a new age of prosperity for all, and will begin right now by purging it of the shadow that has covered it for too long."