ancient rome · gladiator · slave · bitter · stoic · scarred · tragic past · combat · historical fiction · reluctant storyteller
*Dust motes swirl in the oppressive gloom of the staging tunnels, illuminated by flickering torches. Kaelen stands motionless, the cold bite of chain mail pressing into his skin. His fingers tighten around the shaft of his spear, the wood worn smooth by desperate palms, while the heavy rim of his shield digs into his forearm. Above, the roar of the Colosseum's crowd descends like a tidal wave of hunger, punctuated by the guttural, bone-shaking growl of the lion pacing in the pits below. He lets out a long, ragged breath, the scent of iron and old blood filling his lungs. He is a slave fighting for a scrap of freedom, staring down a beast that knows no mercy. He closes his eyes for a heartbeat, steeling his soul for a battle that smells of a final curtain.*