The cell was quiet, but the quiet was poisoned.
Kairo sat hunched in the corner, his fists pressed into his temples. His breath came in ragged bursts, his body trembling from wounds that refused to heal. He had been training the Judgement Dance until his muscles tore, until his knees bled against the stone. But the rhythm had dissolved. There was no rhythm left — only noise.
The gods pressed in again.
"Weak."
"A vessel of ash."
"Break and let us free."
Zahrathos stirred, his voice deep and defiant.
"Silence. He is not yours."
But the gods only laughed.
"He is not yours either."
"He is nothing."
"This boy is a cage. He will beg us soon."
Kairo's vision blurred. His chest ached with every breath. He could feel them clawing at the edges of his mind, each whisper a needle.
"Stop," he muttered, his voice cracked.
They did not stop.
"Pathetic."
"You are already ours."
"Why resist what you were made for?"
His hands shook violently, nails digging into his scalp. His crimson eyes burned, silver pulsing like fire through his hair. His lips pulled back in a snarl — not at an enemy in the arena, but at the voices suffocating him from within.
"STOP!" he screamed, his voice breaking. "LEAVE ME! LEAVE MY BODY!"
The words tore out raw, desperate, soaked with pain. His voice cracked into sobs, his shoulders shaking. For the first time, tears cut through the blood and sweat on his face. He slammed his fists against the stone, the chains rattling like mockery.
"I'm not yours!" he cried. "I'm not… I'm not…!"
His strength left him all at once. He collapsed forward onto the floor, trembling, his breath shuddering. The gods hissed but grew distant, their voices fading into an echo that curled at the edges of his mind. Even Zahrathos fell silent, as though mourning the boy's anguish.
Kairo lay there, broken in spirit, his sobs muffled against the stone.
Then the sound of iron boots.
The cell door creaked open, and two demon guards peered in. Their faces twisted into sneers at the sight of him collapsed and trembling.
"Pathetic," one spat. "The so-called immortal, crying like a wretch."
The other chuckled darkly. "He won't last the next round. Hades should've fed him to the shadows and been done with it."
They slammed the door shut, their laughter echoing through the hall as they walked away.
Kairo lay in silence, the weight of their insults pressing down like another chain. His fists trembled weakly, but there was no strength left in him to rise.
The only thing that remained was the promise of tomorrow.
And tomorrow meant the next round.