“Faust! Faust! Faust!”
That wasn’t my name—it was my opponent’s. The spectators’ shouts of approval rose in the arena as I thudded to the ground on my back. I spat and got up, the taste of blood in my mouth, my eyes locked on his. He smiled at me mockingly as the crowd cheered him on.
I grunted. “No reason to gloat over an audience that changes sides so fast.” Not long ago, all the stands had been applauding my feats and shouting my name as I defeated an entire horde of Damned Souls to then battle a giant beast with pestilential breath. I had taken part in the Opalion often enough to know that the first two trials had been tougher than usual. Despite that, I was now in the middle of the third trial, the most difficult one: the duel with the challenging Champion.
“Even the smallest victory deserves its moment of glory,” he shot back with a grin.
“Well, they say settling for second best is a virtue. A shame it’s not one of mine.” I charged him and slid across the ground, knocking him off his feet. As he picked himself up the ground trembled beneath us and split open. We froze.
Within seconds the arena had transformed yet again, leaving us only a few patches of ground on which to do battle: concentric rings connected by walkways scattered at intervals around the circumference. I moved my foot away from the precipice and looked down. Nothing could be seen in the depths but darkness.
“Get ready to take a dive, soldier,” Faust warned me.
“I wouldn’t count on it if I were you.” I kicked up the staff that lay on the ground and grabbed it in midair, twirling it over my head. “I was a pilot in the U.S. Army. I know how to bring down my enemies.” I dealt him a powerful blow and he crashed to the ground.
His lips twisted into a sneer. “I was a firefighter. That doesn’t mean I won’t enjoy watching you burn.” He leapt to his feet and flames burst from the chasm right behind me. I instinctively rolled into a front flip when the heat hit my back. Gritting my teeth from the painful burn, I followed Faust’s eyes as he looked up at the Panthior, the platform of honor. It was his Amìsha—she who had claimed him as her Champion—who had commanded the flames. She was inside his head . . . and in his blood.
Only three members of the Sisterhood were watching the Games from above. The first two were Sophìa, the queen of the Underworld, in her ever-vigilant role as Stage Director, and the Witch of Honor, who had earned the title by defeating her Sisters in what they called “the Hunt.” If the competitor the Witch of Honor had chosen to participate in the Games survived the first two trials, another Sister was asked to offer her own Champion to challenge him. She was the third member of the trio of Witches present. The two rival Sisters would watch their warriors during the duel while the Stage Director made the challenges more and more difficult. We were pawns in a deadly game in which even the chessboard itself could annihilate us. As if that weren’t enough, the other seven Sisters watched over us in their panther form, ready to rip us to shreds if we dared set foot outside the Circle. Their claws were lethal to those like me. A single scratch could be deadly.
The Witches occupied their time at the Castle in the Games, when they weren’t busy corrupting the minds of mortals on Earth, granting their wishes in exchange for a piece of their souls. No one could resist the Temptation: a promise of death that sooner or later would lead them to Hell.
Damned Souls weren’t granted the luxury of battling for victory—they were tossed into the arena as fodder for the Champions or the wild beasts captured during the Hunt. The more courageous Souls came to watch the Games from the stands set aside for them. Opalion celebrations were the only times Sophìa opened the Castle doors.
We battled it out, chasing each other all the way to the last ring of land. I’d lunged at Faust with my staff again and again, but this time he nimbly dodged my blows and ran to pick up his weapon: a trident that had appeared in the innermost ring. I gave chase, hoping to stop him, but the bastard was fast. The panthers prowled nervously, eager to sink their poisonous claws into one of us.
The crowds cheered in surprise when I tackled him and pinned him to the ground, his face dangerously close to the edge. “Not bad for somebody who’s fighting without any Witch’s blood, don’t you agree?” The Witches allowed select Champions like Faust to drink their blood, maintaining control of them in this way and making them stronger at the same time. I shoved the staff against his throat, tightening my grip. “I’ve heard the winner gets to spend a fiery night with his Amìsha. Not a bad reward.”
“You have to earn the title before you can enjoy a Champion’s privileges.” Using my staff as leverage, he broke free, hurling me away.
An arsenal of swords plunged from the sky, embedding themselves in the ground. In the nick of time I dodged one headed right at me. “Whoa! Could they send us some umbrellas too?” I grabbed the sword and our blades clanged against each other. “And for the record, I’m earning the title as we speak.”
“Your tongue is as sharp as my sword. What a shame it won’t help you win the tournament.”
“I’ll do far more entertaining things with it.” I grinned at him, but a needle shot toward me and wounded my arm. “Ow! What is this, a hardware yard sale? Weren’t the flying swords enough?” A second later I spotted a huge shower of needles zooming in our direction. “Shit.” I threw myself into a somersault to avoid them and glimpsed my opponent. He was running in the opposite direction, toward the walkway to the second ring of land, where an entire armory of weapons had appeared. I had to keep him from reaching it—or beat him to it. My breath coming fast, I raced after him around the outermost ring, dodging the needles shooting at us. The panthers followed our every move ominously, each one patrolling her section of the perimeter. Spears sprang from the ground, slowing my adversary. Seizing the chance, I pounced on Faust, hurled him to the ground, and punched him repeatedly. He grabbed my face and shoved it away as if trying to rip my head off. There was a sinister hiss and a needle pierced my ear. Faust laughed when he heard me curse. I bit down on his fingers and clenched my teeth until I tasted his blood.
He howled and let go of my face, staring at me in shock. “What are you, some kind of cannibal?!”
“Well, we are in Hell, my friend,” I said, grinning. I pulled myself to my feet. “Actually, I might just keep this,” I said, touching my upper earlobe, where the dart still stung. “I bet it looks good on me.” Another series of needles struck my bare chest. “These, maybe not.” I pulled them out and threw them to the ground, returning my attention to my opponent.
It was time to put an end to the duel.
I threw a punch at Faust. He staggered but instantly counterattacked. He was a tough one—maybe throwing him into the abyss really was the only winning strategy. With each blow I managed to drive him back closer and closer to the edge, but he realized my intentions and with a roundhouse kick agilely knocked me to the ground. I leapt to my feet before he could get close.
The needles had stopped, the spears had withdrawn into the ground, and the Souls in the stands were all holding their breath. Faust and I stared at each other. It was just him and me now. He launched an attack and then another, kicking me full in the back. I had to admit he was good.
“Only wusses attack from behind. Hasn’t anybody ever told you that?”
“Actually, I learned it from you.” He tried again, but I blocked his kick and began to hit him over and over. He struggled to avoid backing up, but my blows were putting him in a tough spot. I had him where I wanted him.
His foot slid back across the ground to the edge of the chasm and I smiled, gloating. “See you on the other side.”
Faust grabbed me by the shoulders and smiled back at me. “Pilots fly first.” With a jaw-dropping leap he front-flipped and landed behind me. I instantly ducked to avoid his punch. Our positions had been inverted and now I was the one dangerously close to the edge. I caught his leg mid-kick and he spun in midair to break free. Inching away from the danger zone, I resumed the battle, more aggressively tha
n ever. The crowds were in raptures over our dark dance. A spear materialized not far away. I slid across the ground to snatch it up, but instead of hurling it at Faust, I rushed him. “You’re right. Pilots fly first.” I planted it in the ground and flew through the air, kicking him in the face with both feet.
“Drake! Drake! Drake!”
I turned to the audience with a little bow. “I see you guys have returned to your senses.”
Faust’s legs whipped out and dragged me down. “Then have a nice flight, pilot.” He planted his feet on my abdomen and flipped, hurling me behind him.
I hadn’t seen it coming. The crowd gasped as I spun around and a panther pounced on me, her golden eyes lengthened like a serpent’s.
I had crossed the line.
Her roar silenced the stands as her sharp claws sliced my chest. The poison set my veins on fire and a blinding pain fogged my mind. I heard the sound of the horn announcing that the tournament had come to an end just before everything went dark.
The Games were over.
GET THE BOOK NOW AT:
www.DarkTournamentSeries.com
THE AUTHOR
“Elisa S. Amore is one of the few phenomena in self-publishing.” -Vanity Fair
Elisa S. Amore is the author of the paranormal romance saga Touched. She wrote the first book while working at her parents’ diner, dreaming up the story between one order and the next. She lives in Italy with her husband, her son, and a pug that sleeps all day. She’s wild about pizza and traveling, which is a source of constant inspiration for her. She dreamed up some of the novels’ love scenes while strolling along the canals in Venice and visiting the home of Romeo’s Juliet in romantic Verona. Her all-time favorite writer is Shakespeare, but she also loves Nicholas Sparks. She’s now a full-time writer of romance and young adult fiction. In her free time she likes to read, swim, walk in the woods, and daydream. With her successful series about life and death, Heaven and Hell, Elisa S. Amore has built a loyal fanbase on social media that continues to grow. She has quickly become a favorite author for thousands of readers in the US. Soon after her debut novel Touched was self-published in the US market in 2016, it climbed the Amazon charts to become a #1 bestseller that remained at the top of the rankings for years in over ten categories, hitting the top 100 in paid Kindle books across Amazon.
“Elisa S. Amore is the undisputed queen of romantic fantasy.” -F Magazine
FIND HER AT:
www.ElisaSAmore.com
Facebook.com/eli.amore
Instagram.com/eli.amore
Thanks for reading Avatars Rising: SILOS I and taking a sneak peek at Dark Tournament!
For more great titles go to www.TormentPublishing.com
Avatars Rising: SILOS I Page 18