Sweat dribbled down the side of his forehead. He shifted uncomfortably, squinting against the faint light of the torches hanging down the room's arched ceiling.

Haroon didn't remember anything— where he was, how he got here, what was happening. There was a lingering chill in the air, cold biting into his skin and setting him at unease when three other strangers appeared beside him. Materialising from nothing.

They were all men; two were older than him. The younger one was a child who looked around ten, blinking dumbly in the darkness of the room. All of them seemed perplexed, looking around in utter confusion.

Before Haroon could ask them what was going on, a loud clap interrupted him first.

Pale brown eyes swung upwards, and Haroon felt the air leave his lungs.

A woman stood atop the elevated floor before them. Her dark hair was pinned back into a tight bun, beady black eyes staring down at them before she spoke. Her icy voice felt grating on his ears.

"Kneel."

In their group, an old man frowned deeply. He inched forward, setting the strange woman with a heated glare.

"Oi!" He said gruffly. "Where am I—"

A sickening shlick filled the room, and the old man's head rolled onto the floor with a splatter of crimson.

Haroon's stomach twisted into a tight knot.

"I said," the woman tucked her hands into the cuffs of her long golden sleeves, her sharp gaze threatening to pierce through them all. "Kneel."

Wordlessly, Haroon sank to his knees. He pressed his forehead against the cold marble floor, chills tingling down his spine as the headless corpse bled steadily beside him. The others mimicked him, dropping onto all fours with their heads dipped into bows.

The strange woman above them shifted, the long golden robes of her attire dragging across the elevated flooring.

"I never liked them old anyway," she let out a sigh, sounding bored. "Always so stubborn. It's a shame, really, I wanted to see him participate."

Haroon held his breath, fearing that if he breathed his head would be sliced off as well. A whimper sounded from his right. His pale brown eyes glanced sideways, meeting the face of the fearful child who was trembling against the floor.

The woman atop the floor trotted around, her heels clacking against the marble flooring. "You may rise now."

Slowly, Haroon lifted his head. He took in the woman's features; her sickly white skin and blood-red lips.

"Be not afraid, my dears." she began, a smile creeping onto her eerily white face. "You are all here for a reason."

Haroon watched as she waved her hand through the air. The ground before them rumbled, startling them all as a stone table erupted from within the earth. Haroon stared at the unsheathed blade placed atop it.

A jambiya.

The blade glistened sharply under the flickering torches. Golden hues reflected off its sleek handle.

"You see," the woman casually snapped her fingers. Behind her, a throne emerged from the wall. Draped in cloths of gold and silver, it glimmered under the dim fires of the room. She teetered backwards till she was sitting down on it. "One of you has to live. Everyone else dies. Choose wisely."

Haroon stared long and hard at the blade, his gaze only shifting when the young boy beside him let out a low whimper.

"Oh?" The strange woman's black eyes glittered with mischief. "Does someone not want to participate?"

Haroon bit the inside of his cheek. He blinked when the other man beside him raised his hand tentatively.

"M-Me!" The man croaked feebly. "I don't want to—"

The woman flicked her wrist with an air of boredom.

It was like an invisible blade was being ripped into his flesh, starting from his abdomen before it sliced up to his forehead. The man gargled, a long gash across his body as he fell onto the floor limply. Dead.

The young boy beside Haroon retched, doubling over as he vomited the contents of his stomach onto the marble floor.

The low pulse in Haroon's ears settled into a resounding, deep vibrato as the woman turned to him, her beady black eyes unblinking.

"Now," she smiled faintly, showing off a set of sharp pearly white teeth. Her petite fingers laced together atop her lap and she leaned back in her seat comfortably.

"Let it begin."