Chapter 122 The return

Chapter 122 The return
They moved at sunset as planned.
Fifteen students, rested but still wounded, followed Kaela back toward the Blackwood.
Maren stayed behind at the safehouse, preparing for casualties she hoped wouldn't come. "If things go wrong," Kaela had told her before leaving, "get word to the other provinces. Let people know what happened here. What the Emperor really was."
Maren had gripped her hands with surprising strength. "My granddaughter died fighting this system. I won't let her death be forgotten. Or yours, if it comes to that."
Now the Blackwood forest loomed ahead, its trees black against the fading orange sky. Smoke still rose from somewhere within.
The arena, burning. Brin walked beside Kaela, his steps steadier than they had been that morning.

The potion Maren gave him had worked. His telepathy was recovering, though he admitted it would be days before he returned to full strength.

"I'm sensing the soldiers," he murmured. "Twenty-three of them. Spread around the arena perimeter. They're scared. Most of them want to surrender but they're more afraid of what the Emperor will do if they try." "And Lucian?" "Still on his throne. His mind is..." Brin shook his head. "Fractured. He keeps reliving moments from his past. His original trial. The friends he poisoned. The bridge he destroyed. It's like his brain is playing his greatest hits on repeat." "The tumour," Taren said quietly.

"It's affecting his cognition. Memory loops are common with certain types of brain damage."

"Can we use that?" Dagon asked. "His confusion?"

"Maybe. If we can get close enough." Brin paused. "But there's something else. He has a contingency. Something he's holding in reserve. I can't see what it is, but the thought of it gives him comfort. Makes him feel like he still has control."

Kaela filed that information away. Another surprise is waiting for them. Another trap to navigate.

They reached the arena's outer wall as full darkness fell. The viewing platform was quiet now.

Bodies had been cleared away, though bloodstains remained on the wooden seats. Elena's people had done their work well.

The families were gone, evacuated to safety throughout the city. Elena herself waited near the eastern entrance.

She looked ten years older than she had that morning.

Her dress was torn and stained with blood. A gash across her forehead had been hastily bandaged. But her eyes were clear and sharp.

"You came back," she said. "We said we would." Elena's gaze found her children. Dagon and Louise, standing side by side, their faces mirrors of grief and determination. "Your father would be proud," she told them. "Both of you." Louise made a sound that might have been a laugh or a sob.

"He's dead because of us. Because he tried to protect us." "He's dead because he chose to fight evil instead of serving it." Elena took her daughter's face in her hands. "That was always going to be his end, one way or another. At least this way, his death meant something." "It doesn't feel like it meant something. It just feels like he's gone." "I know, sweetheart. I know." Elena pulled Louise into an embrace, holding her tight. "But we honour him by finishing what he started. By making sure Lucian never hurts anyone again."

Dagon stood apart, watching his mother and sister. His face was stone but his eyes burned.

Kaela went to him. "You don't have to do this," she said quietly. "No one would blame you for staying back." "Yes, they would. I would."

He looked at her.

"My father gave everything. I won't give less." She took his hand. Squeezed once. "Then we do this together."

They gathered near the arena's main entrance. The massive doors had been barricaded from inside, but Elena's people had found another way in.

A service tunnel used by arena workers to transport equipment and clear bodies between matches.

"It comes up near the western wall," Elena explained. "Far from where the soldiers are concentrated. You should be able to get inside without being seen." "You're not coming with us?" Louise asked. "Someone needs to coordinate from out here. Make sure no reinforcements arrive. Make sure you have an escape route if things go wrong." Elena touched her daughter's cheek. "I've already lost my husband today. I won't lose my children too." "Mother—" "Go. End this. And come back to me alive."

They entered the tunnel one by one. Kaela first, then Dagon, then Louise and Selene. Brin and Taren followed, with Vanya close behind.

The other students spread out, some staying with Elena, while others followed the core group into the darkness.

The tunnel was narrow and stank of old blood. Kaela tried not to think about how many bodies had been dragged through here over the years.

How many students had died in the arena above, their remains hauled away like garbage? After what the Emperor had done, this place deserved to burn.

They emerged through a hatch in the arena floor, near the rocky outcropping where they'd sheltered during the trial.

The space looked different now. Empty. Quiet. The creatures were gone, either killed or fled.

The elaborate terrain features stood silent, monuments to manufactured death. And at the far end, on his elevated platform, the Emperor waited. Lucian sat slumped on his throne, the medallion still clutched in one hand.

His crown sat crooked on his head. His robes were dishevelled. He looked nothing like the commanding figure who had addressed them at the trial's start. He looked like what he was.

A dying old man whose empire had crumbled around him. Twenty-three soldiers formed a loose perimeter around the platform.

They held weapons but their stances were uncertain. Defeated. "Lucian!" Kaela's voice echoed across the empty arena.

"It's over. Your generals are dead. Your guard has surrendered. Your failsafe is destroyed. You have nothing left."

The Emperor raised his head slowly. His eyes found her across the distance.

"Kaela Varn." His voice was hoarse, nothing like the magically amplified boom from before. "The girl from the slums. The sister of the boy who asked too many questions." "My brother's name was Kieran. And he was worth a thousand of you."

Lucian laughed. The sound was wet, rattling. Wrong. "Worth. Such a meaningless word. What is anyone worth in the end? We all become dust. All becomes nothing." He gestured weakly at the arena around him. "I built all this. Ruled for forty-three years. Crushed every enemy, survived every threat. And now? Now I'm rotting from the inside while children lecture me about worth."

"You're dying," Kaela said. "We know about the tumour. About the three to six months you have left." "Three to six months." Another wet laugh.

"The healers were optimistic. I can feel it eating me right now. Every moment, a little more of me disappears."
His hand tightened on the medallion. "But I'm not gone yet. Not quite." He stood, swaying slightly, and the soldiers around him shifted nervously.

"You think you've won," the Emperor said. "You think destroying my failsafe and killing my generals makes you victorious. But you've forgotten something important." "What's that?"
Lucian smiled. It was the most terrifying expression Kaela had ever seen. "I always have a contingency." He raised his free hand. And the arena floor began to open.