The sea of black shifted left then right, funneling into the light like they were being guided into the afterlife.
Lyolis fought to stay put, but those behind shoved her forward. She was swept into the sea, clinging onto … whom? … Her eyes fell to her hand. She squeezed tightly yet the person she held hadn't cried out.
With each shove and step, her eyes paned up the person she held. First their arm, then their shoulder, to the neck that gleamed, then to the broad chin and black mask that was drawn toward the light ... possessed … as possessed as the others.
Her heart skipped in fear and she wanted to scream, but the screams only found her head. I must get away … this is not right! Her trembling body told her so. Lyolis tried to release her hold when suddenly the hand closed around her own. The person behind the mask turned, while dark, brown-speckled eyes dilated upon finding her.
They seemed oddly kind.
"Everything will be alright, Princess … I'm right here beside you." She knew that voice. That strong, protective voice, though the mask distorted who it belonged to. "You're safe with me." There was only one who could proclaim such words.
"Thank you, my love."
They passed beneath the balcony and the light dimmed, no longer a bright spectacle blinding everything in front, but a guiding, glowing stream that highlighted an ascending stairway.
She clutched him tighter, aware his hand must be tingling as their heels and boots clicked one-by-one, climbing switchback after switchback until they expelled out of the tunnel at the top—
Lyolis gasped, pulling Zoar close, feeling his warmth while the wind bit at their exposed skin. He looked to her with a simple smile that somehow rid away the chill.
"Look there," he whispered, pulling his eyes towards the sky; they twinkled … twinkled like the stars dazzling with a white-plated moon above. "They sparkle for you." His lips melted against her cheek and they brightened like roses on first bloom.
"They sparkle for us both."
They walked along a scarlet carpet while torches waved like hands, guiding them onto a rooftop balcony. They joined the sea of black, darkness all around them, while hundreds of orange orbs sparkled marking the city to the north.
Standing at the edge of the balcony was the Mayor. He was much closer than before, positioned on a stage, wearing a face riddled with wrinkles of gratification. He smirked, black eyes like smoldering coal.
"My friends, you are now part of a game … one that'll decide your fate for the evening … and decide if you're deemed worthy to become a part of The Iron Alchemist Tournament." The Mayor smiled deeper at their attentive silence. "That's right! Amongst you are what are called Choosers. If selected you will be invited to a second event — one that will give an experience unlike anything you've ever heard of — the chance to see the tournament from inside the arena." A stir of excited and nervous murmurs came from within the crowd. And this made the mayor perk up, rubbing his palms together. "The rules are simple … show you have no fear and you shall be chosen —"
Suddenly Lyolis was hit by a wall of warmth. She gasped and squinted, watching the rooftop glow red from torches that sprang to life like demons from the pits. Drums pounded … from where? she could not quite pinpoint … it was all around her while a low, rumbling hymn came from the men who dissolved from the shadows, standing on the stage behind the mayor, covered in hooded robes red as the torch flames. Hum! Hum! Hoooo!, Hum! Hum! Hoooo! They said with each beat of drum. Boom! Boom! Booom! They pounded.
"Once given an envelope you may remove your mask and enjoy the festivities…Now go!"
Four loud blasts blared while reddish-yellow orbs shot towards the moon. They exploded with a boom that shook the estate as reds and purples; yellows and greens; and blues and golds sparks flickered through the sky, falling steadily towards the ground.
Lyolis's eyes dazzled like a rainbow. "Marvelous!" she smiled, no longer feeling the ache of fear. Her head lowered, eyes meeting black, soulless pearls. She gasped. A man in a beak-shaped mask glaring back. His arm extended outward, envelop in hand. She hesitated then took it, hoping it would send the man far away … it did the trick ... He bowed, arm at his stomach and one at his back; white and black spotted flesh exposing at the sleeve. She grimaced, "thank you…" The words shook from her mouth. The man glared, stepped backwards, and was swallowed by the sea of black.
Lyolis pulled off her mask, trembling.
"Are you hurt?" Zoar asked, his mask removed, envelope in hand.
"No…" Leslie whispered. "Just quite started by the carrier."
The young man nodded. "Something about them didn't smell right…" He wiped his chin, talking in the voice of Zoar the commander. "It maybe part of the show, but watch yourself, my love. I don't trust these … invading animals—" Zoars eyes widened and went white.
"What is it, my love?" Lyolis followed his gaze beyond the sea of black, past the standing torches, to a corner of the balcony where a man stood,
leaning against the bar. His skin was rough and dark like leather, with jagged, scabby flesh from his eyebrow down to his chin. His breeches and shirt were dark as ash, like his that starred in their direction.
Lyolis touched his arm and Zoars voice rose, "don't touch me, beast!" His face had wrinkled, breathing heavy, eyes red with fire. Lyolos pulled away her hand, and he came back from the dark memory that ate at his soul. "My apologies," he whispered, eyes finding their color while the wrinkles flattened.
Lyolis looked aware unaware that she was trembling like a mouse in a cage. She nodded, uneasy. "No need for apologies, my love." When she faced him once more, he was searching the bar, the man gone. "Who was that—"
"Excuse me, Princess." Before she could protest, Zoar set off, roaming through the sea of black.
Lyolis stood at the center of the balcony. The plated-moon watching. The clatter of the crowd nsync with the hum of the men and pounding of the drums. The torches waved like fingers. Once again she felt the fear creep down within; from her toes, crawling up her spine, then to her neck. She shook though the fear lingered … holding her still ... smothering her.
Lyolis looked down at the enveloped, sealed by red wax with the sigil of Texonia on the front; two revolvers facing outward. What could this be? She thought, slowly sliding it open. She slipped out a piece of parchment, unfolding, reading the words slowly:
Thank you for joining us this evening.
It has been a pleasure to have been your host, but unfortunately you have not been selected to join us further… Hope you enjoyed your evening.
Mayor Thompkins