by Meg Xuemei X
I touched my silvery braids. Well, I had to tend to my hair every day. My father had tried many times to cut it short to better disguise me as a boy, but it always grew back overnight.
So, I had to braid it in a Viking style to make it appear shorter, then I rolled in dirt and mud to make myself look undesirable. I couldn’t afford to draw attention to myself. I could never let anyone know I was a female if I wanted to stay with my brother and not be sent to the whorehouse run by the emperor’s commanders.
My gaze flicked to the tattooed gladiator’s companion, who looked like a perfect, beautiful statue carved out of hard ice. He had silver hair, like mine, and I’d never seen anyone else with the same color hair in the Underworld.
These two specimens intrigued me.
It wasn’t just their refined ridges and masculine beauty that made me unable to tear my eyes off them. Their power vibrated in the air and rolled off them like burning ice and dark fire.
They were not ordinary slaves; they were dangerous. What had they done to be exiled to hell?
The tattooed male snapped his head in my direction, his vibrant amber eyes locking on to me.
Shit, shit, shit!
I hadn’t expected that anyone could see me. I looked inward into my sliver of magic—it wasn’t a lot, but it was still there. My camouflage was in place. But then, Sebastian had warned me that very powerful beings could see through my illusion.
My heart drummed like a galloping warhorse, and my mouth went dry. If he pointed me out to the Sváva demon guards and blew my cover, I’d be done for. An execution on the spot would be a mercy compared to what they would actually do to me.
I cursed under my breath. I’d become too reckless.
But maybe the tattooed slave didn’t exactly see me.
I lowered myself, my stomach pressing against the hard ground, and I ignored the rough sensation of rocks biting into my skin.
The man’s amber eyes didn’t leave me. His nostrils flared, as if he could smell me even from that distance, and his eyes brightened to molten gold.
I widened my eyes in dread as I started to slither backward.
Then his companion’s ice-blue eyes also found me.
What the fuck?
And worse, a formidable Sváva, the master race of the Underworld, came into view.
His power radiated in spades. This one wasn’t a lower-ranking fallen angel. He looked more distinguished than any Sváva I’d ever seen, even though he wore a refined trench coat rather than the armor favored by the others.
He was gorgeous, despite a long scar sprawled across the high ridge of his nose and stretching to his lips. Then it hit me. He was a newcomer. But if he stayed here for over a week, his appearance would change to a monstrous one. He’d grow horns, claws, and fangs, and his eyes would turn crimson.
The fallen angels became demons in the Underworld.
Xavier, my adoptive father, had taught me the history of the Sváva that none of the other slaves had ever learned. Even Sebastian didn’t have the knowledge of the fallen angel race, and I wondered why my father had focused only on my education and training.
A lump arose in the back of my throat at the memory of my late father. The pain had never gone away, ever since he had been killed while digging a new tunnel.
I swallowed my pain and watched the new Sváva.
The Sváva’s storm-gray eyes scanned the terrain with cold disinterest, until they suddenly landed on me as I slowly and quietly retreated from the shrub.
Shit, hell!
I bit my bottom lip in case my curse flew out.
Our gazes clashed; his was full of surprise and even denial, and mine burned with hatred, even though his harsh masculine beauty hammered into my chest and brought out a strange longing. Even his massive wings, a repulsive sight if they belonged to other Sváva, held me spellbound.
He flicked his gaze to the demon guards to see if they had spotted me, and he got the confirmation. None save the two slave gladiators and he could see through my glamour.
His gaze now sparkled with dark delight, and the scar on his face twitched.
The Sváva race was notorious for its cruelty. And this one was obviously excited, for he’d discovered a new game. He was going to make an example out of me.
And if he ever found out that I was a girl—
Chilling terror slithered up my spine, yet I couldn’t tear my gaze off him, off the three of them—one slaver and two slaves.
They hadn’t made a move yet.
I remained still, hoping this whole dynamic was just my imagination and they’d move on toward their destinations like the others. But I knew I wasn’t mistaken.
I was made.
The two slave gladiators opened their mouths, as if wanting to warn me. But the aristocratic Sváva stalked straight toward me with predatory grace, his angelic eyes flashing with menace.
Blood drained from my face. I shot to my feet from behind the bush and bolted.
I might not be able to outrun the Sváva if he flew overhead, but I was the fastest runner in the Underworld, and I might still have a chance of reaching the tunnel under the hill. And from there, I’d probably get away.
So, I raced toward the hills, pushing myself to the limit of my speed. My lungs nearly burst open, and I dared not look back even once.
I didn’t hear any whoosh of spears flying at me, or the flapping of the demons’ wings above me.
They hadn’t pursued me.
I spared a glance over my shoulder, just in time to catch sight of the Sváva lashing his wicked whip toward the two slave gladiators.
I felt sorry for them, but there was nothing I could do for them.
I kept running, charging into the tunnel, getting out, climbing over more hills, until I reached the edge of the swamp toward Lethe, the land of oblivion, where I dwelled with Sebastian.
In the distance, a mountain spat dark fire and red lava, a reminder and warning that no one ever escaped the Underworld.
Easing my breathing, I let my thoughts drift back to the two slave gladiators and that goddamn powerful Sváva. Why hadn’t he pursued me? That was out of character for a Sváva. Their brutal race never gave up the hunt.
Maybe my luck hadn’t run out.
Oh shit. Speaking of luck, I needed to get back to Lethe before the Selection started.
I was a slave digger, like everyone else in my sector. On the Reap Day when the Reaper dumped new slaves into the realm, we didn’t have to dig the tunnel to search for some ancient artifacts for the emperor. But the free day was also the blood day. One slave from each of the seven sectors—Acheron, Cocytus, Fiery, Tartarus, Erubus, Styx, and Lethe—would be chosen, and the seven slaves would be sent to the gladiatorial arena to fight to the death.
In my twenty-one years, I’d never seen or heard of anyone who returned.
That was how the emperor kept all the slaves on our toes.
I sped up, my heartbeat thundering in my ears. I couldn’t afford to be late. If I was, I’d be the one sent to the arena.
And then my brother would be left all alone.
CHAPTER 2
_____________
I reached Lethe, a vast patch of swamp, right before the Selection started. I snuck up into the rear of the crowd, using a bit of my camouflage magic so no one could see how I blended in.
Everyone gathered in the muddy clearing, hundreds of us diggers, staring grimly at Seamus, the human supervisor, who had oily hair and a sleazy smile.
A low-ranking Sváva guard stood on a broad rock, not wanting the swamp’s mud to dirty his boots. He watched us with a bored look on his demonic, cruel face, his clawed hand tapping slowly on the hilt of his sword, his serrated gray wings shuffling behind his shoulders.
Seamus scanned us like a rattlesnake. He loved to see the terror in everyone’s hollowed eyes. The life of a slave digger at the edge of the swamp wasn’t much, but it was probably better than being dead.
“Choose one and get it over with, Seam
us,” ordered the Sváva demon. “Or you can go in their place. I must get back to the capital before my lunch!”
The supervisor sighed regretfully, not wanting his vicious game to be cut short, but he barked for the diggers to form lines and rows. He would check everyone as if we were livestock and pick the weakest male, the one who wasn’t pulling his weight in the tunnel, and send him to the arena to bleed to death.
Seven rows formed into a large square.
I turned my head around, anxiously seeking Sebastian. Where was he? If he didn’t show up, his absence would be noted and he’d be sent to the arena, and I’d lose the last family I had.
Guilt stabbed into me, overriding my annoyance and worry. I shouldn’t have left him before dawn to visit the Reaper in order to satisfy my obsession. But when I left, he’d been sleeping. He’d coughed a lot last night, but he’d said he was fine and he would be strong in the morning.
Sebastian was the biggest badass in Lethe due to his dragonian heritage. I was a human, and Sebastian had pale blue skin, a few scales on his arms, and blue horns, which made him more like most of the Underworld natives.
Because of his build and his fierce protection of me, no one had picked on me. In the tunnel, Sebastian always worked in the deepest, most dangerous section, and in exchange, he demanded the diggers let me have the lightest tasks. No one had challenged him over that. For years, I was able to live a relatively easier life amid the diggers because of my brother.
Anxiety twisted a knot in my stomach. He might have passed out while I’d thought he was sleeping. It was too late for me to run back to him and drag him out of bed. We would never make it back here in time.
A lump choked in my throat as I darted my gaze around frantically. I couldn’t risk asking anyone around if they’d seen my brother, either, since it would bring attention to his absence.
Then Sebastian stumbled into view, with Diego and Brooklyn half-dragging and half-carrying him to the scene. My heartbeat resumed its normal speed, and I nodded at his friends with deep gratitude. They didn’t nod back but glared at me for being the worst “brother” to their idol Sebastian.
Sebastian’s dark brown eyes searched the crowd in panic. He wasn’t his usual alert self, or it wouldn’t have taken him this long to find me.
Diego pointed his bony finger at me while clenching his teeth to support my brother’s weight. “Your brother’s there!”
Sebastian’s gaze found me, and relief settled in his eyes.
All three of them joined the fifth row, right in front of me.
Sebastian swayed before he stood straight, and his friend let go of him. My brother hated to be seen as weak more than anything. He wouldn’t have allowed his friends to half-carry him here if he could make it by himself, which only told me how sick he really was.
I changed positions with Diego and stood beside my brother. Before Sebastian had a chance to chide me, I bitched, “You lied to me. You said you’d get well in the morning, but you only got worse. You almost didn’t make it here. How could you lie to your own brother?”
How could his condition have gotten so much worse in a few hours?
I was so spoiled that I didn’t know how to take care of others. Even though I lived in the swamp, my life was easier than the other diggers’ because my father and Sebastian shielded me to the best of their ability. I remembered that lots of times when food was scarce, my father and brother had always made sure I had something to eat and told me they weren’t hungry.
Deep gratitude and guilt swarmed over me.
Sebastian looked down at the fierce expression I held despite my worry and shame and said sheepishly, “I’m sorry.”
I waved a hand. “All is forgiven for now, but you’ll need to come clean with me in the future. Family is all about trust.”
“You shouldn’t have left him in the first place,” Brooklyn hissed at me. “Time to be a grown man, Calamity!”
Before I growled, Sebastian snarled at Brooklyn, and his friend shook his head with a sigh and backed off.
“Your immature, carefree brother is going to be the death of you, Sebastian,” Brooklyn murmured. “Don’t say that I never said so.”
Seamus moved between the rows of diggers, who all held their breath and remained motionless. Everyone stood in dour silence, yet apprehension etched every weathered face. Then, suddenly, he came in front of us, his yellowish eyes darting between my brother and me. I glared back. He regarded Sebastian with malicious delight.
My heart rammed into my ribcage painfully.
No, he can’t pick my brother! I prayed. Don’t let him do it. My brother isn’t weak. Now go the fuck away, snake!
There were two rows of diggers behind us. I could literally smell the odor of their fear. It was horrible to wish that one of them would get picked instead, but I just couldn’t bear to lose Sebastian.
In the Underworld, no one could afford to be selfless. We just had to look out only for ourselves.
“You can barely stand, Sebastian,” Seamus said with a vile smile. “For the first time, you’re the weakest link among Lethe’s diggers.”
No! A horrific scream nearly escaped my lips. Don’t let him say it. Gods, forbid him from making the final judgment.
“Rules are rules, diggers!” Seamus shouted, savoring this precious moment in his pathetic life. “And Sebastian is going to the arena this season!”
No one applauded, but a relieved expression flitted across every face, except for Diego’s, Brooklyn’s, and mine.
Sebastian swallowed, looking down at me with effort, high fever making his eyes bloodshot. “I’m sorry, Calamity.”
He didn’t worry about being sent to his death in the gladiatorial arena; he was worried that he could no longer protect me.
Sebastian swayed, as he was too sick to keep up appearances. I reached for him and let him lean his weight on me. Brooklyn also stepped in to prop him up from the other side.
“It’s not right!” I shouted, staring at the demon’s pawn with hatred. “It’s not fair. Sebastian isn’t weak. He’s never weak. He’s only sick today, and he’ll get better tomorrow. You can’t select him! This isn’t about the rules at all. It’s personal. You hate him because he’s bigger and more powerful than you and the only one who ever stands up to you when you oppress us too much. You’re using this chance to get rid of my brother, so no one will ever challenge your unfairness anymore.”
“Blasphemy!” Seamus snarled at me. “You’ll be hanged for declaring the Emperor’s Selection unjust!”
The demon guard cracked his whip in the air. One more protest from me and the iron whip would kiss my face, mauling me.
“Shut your mouth, Calamity,” Sebastian warned. “You’ll only get yourself in trouble. I’m going this season.”
It was a wonder he could still have coherent thoughts. His skin was burning hotter than coal.
He turned to nod at Diego solemnly. “Look after my brother.”
Both Diego and Brooklyn nodded and turned their gazes to the ground. They would keep the promise to my brother, even though they didn’t like me much. They probably blamed me for Sebastian’s bad luck today.
Sebastian put his hands forward for the Sváva guard to shackle him, to take him to the arena. The guard swaggered toward him with indifference and impatience.
He wouldn’t make it, and he knew it. So, he didn’t say farewell to me, not wanting to break my heart.
“Stop!” I snarled. I stepped forward and cut in between my brother and the demon guard.
“What are you doing, Calamity?” Sebastian growled, trying to reach me to drag me back, but he no longer had the strength. He had never been sick like this, burned by high fever.
It hurt me to see him hurt, but I didn’t rush to help him. Instead, I watched him stumble and fall to his knees. “Bring my brother back—” he pleaded to his friends.
I planted myself firmly before Sebastian, but far enough to be out of his grab. Anyone would have to go through me to ge
t to my brother.
“Don’t take him,” I said, steel in my voice, though my gaze was fixed on the crest on the guard’s armor instead of staring at his face, which would be perceived as a transgression and would get me beaten or even killed. “Please. I’ll go in his place. Let me go instead. The rules say that a volunteer is allowed. I’m useless in the tunnel anyway. I always do the lightest chores while my brother carries the heaviest tasks for all of you. He’ll recover soon, and the tunnel needs him. You’ll need him, but none of you will even notice when I’m gone.”
All of the heads turned to me, silent shock rippling across the crowd in the swamp’s clearing. No one had ever volunteered to go to the arena, and I didn’t look like I would make the cut.
“No, Calamity!” Sebastian bellowed in rage. That roaring of his used the last ounce of his strength. He tried to rise to his feet but failed as a series of violent coughs overtook him.
Seamus sneered in glee. He loved to see my brother suffer, so he allowed me to take Sebastian’s place, for he knew my death would break my brother.
The Sváva guard halted in front of my brother, a disgusted expression crossing his inhuman face at Sebastian’s coughing. They said the Sváva race represented beauty, perfection, and power before the angelic beings fell to the Underworld, and some slaves even worshipped the demons. To me, they were just monsters. If I could, I would spit on his face when he looked at my brother with such cruel contempt.
“I won’t let you do this.” Sebastian struggled to force out his next string of words amid fits of coughing. “You can’t. You’re a g—” He stopped at my death glare, realizing that if he revealed my true gender, it’d only be worse.
We’d both be made an example of. He’d still be dragged to the arena to die, and I’d be tossed into the whorehouse in a fortified castle before the demon guards beat me within an inch of my life and probably gang raped me.
“Don’t do this, Calamity,” pleaded my brother. “They’ll kill you. I can’t bear it.”
