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T he opposition charged across the blood-stained sand, their weapons raised and glinting in the dying sunlight. They showed a reckless courage that could only come from knowing they were already dead men - better to die fighting than be eaten alive. Their sandals kicked up clouds of dust as they ran, battle cries echoing off the arena walls. Behind them, the dragon's massive form cast long shadows in the sunset, its golden eyes tracking their movement with predatory intensity.

"Hold formation!" Marcus's voice carried over the thunder of approaching feet. "Circle left, keep it tight!"

We moved as one unit, our shields locked together, maintaining the disciplined formation that Marcus had drilled into us countless times in the practice yard. Every step was measured, deliberate, creating the illusion of retreat while actually executing a careful flanking maneuver.

The opposition's leader let out a bark of laughter that was quickly taken up by his men. "Look at them run!" he shouted, his voice carrying across the arena. "The mighty Marcus and his champions, scurrying away like rats!"

"Afraid of a chained beast?" another called out, though I noticed he kept well away from the dragon's reach as he advanced.

Their taunts grew bolder as we continued our circular retreat. They turned their backs completely on the dragon now, focused entirely on running us down. Even when a hot gust of the creature's breath stirred their hair, they paid it no mind, convinced the chains would hold.

I watched their confidence with a mixture of pity and grim anticipation. They had no idea they were being maneuvered exactly where Marcus wanted them - where the dragon wanted them. With each step, they moved deeper into the killing zone, and their laughter took on an increasingly hollow sound that echoed off the arena walls.

The dragon's massive head rose higher, those ancient eyes now fixed on the exposed backs of our opponents with terrible intensity. Steam curled from between its teeth, and I felt the temperature around us begin to rise. Still they came on, still they failed to see the trap they were walking into, too focused on what they thought was easy prey ahead of them.

A low rumble built in the dragon's chest, like distant thunder, but in their battle-lust and triumph, they didn't seem to hear it. Or perhaps they chose not to, believing themselves safe from the chained beast. Their formation began to break as faster runners pulled ahead, eager to be the first to reach us.

Behind him, others realized too late the trap they'd walked into. Our sudden advance had pushed them back toward the dragon's reach, and now panic spread through their ranks as they found themselves caught between our blades and those massive jaws. The dragon's rumble became a roar that shook the very sand beneath our feet.

"Hold the line!" Vitus screamed at his men, but fear had already taken hold.

A gout of flame erupted over their heads, close enough that I felt its heat on my face. The acrid stench of sulfur filled the air. Three of their men broke formation completely, trying to run. The dragon's tail whipped through the air with impossible speed, catching one in the chest. The crack of breaking ribs was audible even over the battle noise, and his body flew into the arena wall with bone-crushing force.

I drove forward, taking advantage of their terror. My opponent had recovered from the broken nose, but blood streaming down his face had half-blinded him. His parries were desperate now, clumsy. I feinted left, then spun right as Septimus had taught me, letting momentum carry my blade through a gap in his guard. Steel bit deep into his side, and he went down screaming.

To my left, Antonius fought with the fluid grace that had made him champion three years running. His sword moved like quicksilver, opening throats and severing tendons with surgical precision. But even he was showing signs of fatigue - his reactions a fraction slower than usual, his breathing labored.

"Keep pushing!" Marcus called out. He engaged two opponents at once, his blade a blur of motion. "Drive them back!"

Another roar from the dragon, followed by screams of terror. I risked a glance over my shoulder and saw its massive head descend, jaws wide. A gladiator tried to roll away but wasn't fast enough. Those terrible teeth closed around his torso, lifting him into the air. Blood rained down on his companions as the dragon shook its prey like a dog with a rat, before swallowing him whole.

The sight broke something in their remaining fighters. The disciplined warriors who had charged so confidently across the arena were gone, replaced by terrified men who could think only of escape. But there was nowhere to run. The dragon's chains allowed it to reach almost to the arena walls, and our line pressed them steadily back into its killing zone. Over on my left, I caught sight of Maro desperately fending off two warriors, and I turned to go and help him, but a sudden wave of heat drove me back and I watched in horror as fire engulfed all three of them. Maro stumbled, still somehow standing. His scream changed pitch, became something inhuman as his flesh blackened and peeled. The stench of burning meat filled the air, and I fought back bile as he staggered, still somehow standing, his skin bubbling and sloughing off in sheets. The dragon's tail whipped around, ending his suffering with a sickening crunch.

Around me, the battle descended into pure chaos. The dragon's tactics were as ruthless as they were effective - it would snap at groups of fighters, forcing them to scatter, breaking up any attempt to reform their lines. Those who strayed too close were snatched up or burned alive. Those who tried to retreat were met by our blades.

Yet still they fought, the desperate strength of condemned men making them dangerous despite their fear. Vaius went down to my right, a sword in his gut. The woman who killed him immediately engaged Tarshi, their weapons moving almost too fast to follow in the fading light.

The dragon screamed in frustration as another fighter darted just out of its reach, the chains groaning against the stone columns. I needed to get closer, but I couldn't see a way forward. At least a dozen fighters still remained between me and the dragon, and I could already feel myself tiring.

"Keep formation!" Marcus shouted, but his voice cracked with strain. "Don't let them split us up!"

"Gods, they're breaking through!"

They were. Despite our best efforts, the other team had rallied. They fought with the desperate strength of condemned men, and we were all so tired. I watched in horror as Quintus fell, then Gaius, then young Lucius who'd only joined our ludus three months ago.

The dragon's chains rattled as it lunged at another fighter who strayed too close, but the iron collar held firm. Its frustrated roar shook sand from the arena walls. Golden eyes met mine for a moment, and I felt its rage and hunger like a physical force.

Two gladiators from the other team broke away, trying to flank us. They didn't see the dragon's head snaking down behind them until it was too late. Those massive jaws closed around the first man's torso, lifting him screaming into the air. Blood rained down on his companion, who stood frozen in horror. The dragon swallowed its prey whole, then caught the second man as he finally tried to run.

I remembered my visits to the dragon's pen, how Drusus had ordered its rations cut to nothing this past week. "Hunger makes them fierce," he'd said, smirking down at me as his hands... No. I couldn't think about that now. But I looked up at his viewing box, saw him lounging on his cushioned seat, enjoying the spectacle. Hatred burned in my gut, almost as hot as dragon fire. Soon, I promised myself. Soon he would pay for everything.

"Livia, watch out!"

Septimus's warning came just in time. I dropped and rolled as a spear thrust through where my head had been. Coming up in a crouch, I slashed at my attacker's legs. He jumped back, but Septimus was there, bringing his axe down in a deadly arc that split the man's skull.

Our eyes met briefly across the corpse. His hand touched the hammer at his belt - a silent question. I shook my head slightly. Not yet. I needed to get closer.

Marcus was fighting two men at once, his sword a blur of motion. But I could see the strain in his movements, the way his shield arm trembled. Blood ran down his leg from a deep gash in his thigh. As I watched, he stumbled slightly, and one of his opponents got inside his guard.

The blade opened a long cut across his ribs. Marcus fell to one knee, barely getting his shield up in time to block a killing blow. I started toward him, but three opponents stood in my way.

The first came at me with a wild swing. Exhaustion made me slow to parry, and his sword bit into my shoulder. Pain flared hot and sharp, but I used the momentum to spin inside his reach, ramming my blade up under his chin. He fell, but the other two were already on me.

I caught a mace on my shield, felt the wood splinter. My sword arm was growing numb from the shoulder wound. A kick took my legs out from under me, and I hit the sand hard enough to drive the breath from my lungs. Rolling desperately, I barely avoided a blade to the throat.

"Livia!" Antonius appeared above me, his shield providing cover as I scrambled to my feet. "We're losing too many!"

He was right. Of our original twelve, only seven remained standing. The other team had lost more to the dragon, but they still outnumbered us now. I saw Marcus finally regain his feet, but his movements were sluggish, his face pale from blood loss.

"Fall back!" Marcus called, his voice hoarse. "Regroup by the western wall!"

But as we tried to retreat, the other team pressed their advantage. I saw pure panic flash across Marcus's face as he realized what we all knew - we were losing. The carefully laid plans, all our training, it meant nothing in the face of exhaustion and terror and the chaos of real battle.

The dragon roared again, and this time I felt something different in our connection - a desperate urgency that matched my own. Time was running out. Soon there would be no one left to help me free it, and all of this would have been for nothing.

I looked up at Drusus again, saw him leaning forward in his seat, eyes bright with bloodlust as he watched us die. The memory of his hands on me, his weight pinning me down, his whispered threats about what would happen if I didn't comply... The rage that filled me then was almost blinding.

Marcus caught my eye across the arena. Blood covered half his face, and real fear showed in his expression for the first time since I'd known him. He knew we were all going to die here, knew there was nothing he could do to save us.

I gripped my sword tighter, felt the weight of the hammer at my belt. It had to be now, ready or not. Better to die trying than wait until I was already dead.

But before I could move, a different kind of scream cut through the arena - not the excited bloodlust of spectators, but pure terror. My head snapped up toward the stands just as the first horns began to sound from the city walls. Not the brass performance horns of the arena, but the deep, resonant warning horns that hadn't been heard in a generation.

"Talfen!" The cry went up from somewhere in the western stands. "The demons are here!"

For a heartbeat, everything seemed to freeze. Then, beyond the arena walls, orange light began to paint the darkening sky. Not the last rays of sunset - this was the angry glow of a city burning.

The stillness shattered. Panic erupted in the stands as thousands of people tried to move at once. The wooden benches, already groaning under the weight of too many spectators drawn by the promise of a dragon fight, began to crack. Screams of terror mixed with the sounds of splintering wood and the deeper rumble of stone shifting beneath too much strain.

"They'll kill us all!" someone shrieked. "The demons are coming to eat our souls!"

The imperial soldiers stationed around the arena tried to maintain order, but they were caught between their duty to defend the city and the surge of humanity trying to escape. I watched as one was lifted off his feet by the crowd, his white uniform disappearing under a sea of bodies before he was pushed, screaming, over the arena wall. He landed with a sickening crunch not twenty paces from us.

The dragon's head snapped around at the movement. Before the soldier could even try to stand, those massive jaws closed around him, armor and all. The crunch of metal and bone was lost under the crescendo of panic from above.

More people were falling now as the crowds pushed against the safety barriers. They fell like rain, hitting the sand with terrible finality. The dragon's tail whipped back and forth, catching some before they even landed. Those that survived the fall lay broken and moaning, or tried to crawl toward the arena gates, only to be trampled by others who fell after them.

"The gates!" Marcus shouted, but his voice was nearly lost in the chaos. "Get away from the gates!"

I saw what he meant - the massive arena gates were shuddering under the weight of the crowd trying to force their way through. The iron hinges screamed in protest, ancient wood starting to splinter. If they broke, thousands would pour into the arena floor.

Our opponents seemed to have forgotten us entirely, their weapons hanging loose as they stared up at the disintegrating spectacle above. More horns sounded from the city, closer now. The orange glow had become a red glare that turned the clouds themselves to blood. Smoke began to drift over the arena walls, bringing with it the acrid smell of burning wood and something else - something that made the hair on the back of my neck stand up.

"They're inside the walls!" The cry came from the imperial box, where the nobles who had been so comfortably watching us die were now fighting each other to reach the private exits. "The Talfen are inside the city!"

I saw Drusus trying to maintain his dignity as he retreated, but one of his own guards shoved him aside in their panic to escape. He stumbled, catching himself on the rail, and our eyes met across the distance. The fear in his face sent a thrill of satisfaction through me, even amid the chaos.

The dragon's chains rattled as it strained upward, nostrils flaring at the scent of smoke and terror. Its wings half-opened despite the restraints, casting strange shadows in the firelight that now illuminated the arena more brightly than day. Those golden eyes seemed to glow with reflected flames, and steam poured from between its teeth as it tasted the panic in the air.

"Livia!" Septimus appeared at my side, his face streaked with blood and sand. His hand went to the hammer at his belt. "If we're going to do it, it has to be now!"

He was right. The chaos above was the perfect distraction, but it was also our biggest threat. Already the crowd's panic was turning to violence as people fought over the limited exits. More sections of seating were giving way under the strain. Soon the arena floor would become a death trap as more and more people fell or jumped to escape whatever horrors were occurring in the city.

More horns sounded, but these were different - harsh, discordant notes that set my teeth on edge. The Talfen war horns, made from the bones of their victims, if the stories were true. They seemed to cut through the human screams like knives, and each blast brought fresh waves of panic.

"The demons are coming!" "They'll take our souls!" "Run! Run while you still can!"

The crowd's fear became something almost physical, a wave of terror that swept through the stands like a living thing. More people began deliberately jumping into the arena rather than risk being trapped above. They landed all around us, some dying instantly, others crawling or staggering toward the gates, heedless of the dragon or the armed gladiators in their desperation to escape.

Above us, the noble box finally gave way completely, spilling its richly dressed occupants onto the sand like scattered jewels. The dragon's head snapped around at the movement, but even its appetite seemed momentarily checked by the sheer scale of the chaos unfolding around us.

The remaining gladiators had begun to retreat toward the arena walls, all thoughts of combat forgotten as survival instinct took over. Even Marcus looked lost, his sword pointed uselessly at the ground as he watched his carefully planned battle dissolve into something far more terrifying.

I didn't hesitate. While everyone else stared at the chaos above, I sprinted toward the nearest column. Septimus was right, this was the moment I needed. Behind me, someone shouted my name - Marcus perhaps, or one of the others - but their voices were lost in the cacophony of screams and splintering wood from above.

The iron spike was thick as my wrist where it had been driven into the sandstone. I brought the hammer down with all my strength. The impact jarred my entire body, but the spike barely shifted. Panic clawed at my throat as I struck again. And again. Each blow sent shockwaves up my arms, but the spike remained stubbornly embedded.

A shadow fell over me as someone else jumped or fell from above. I didn't look up, couldn't spare the attention. My world had narrowed to the spike and the hammer and the desperate need to break these chains before it was too late. The dragon's head snapped around at my efforts, those ancient eyes fixing on me with terrible intensity.

"Come on," I growled through gritted teeth, swinging again. Sweat ran into my eyes, and my shoulders screamed in protest. The spike shifted slightly, but not enough. Never enough. "Please!"

"Move!"

Septimus's voice cut through my frustration. I dove aside just as his war hammer came down in a perfect arc. The head was twice the size of mine, backed by arms thick with muscle from years of wielding siege weapons. The spike shot from the stone like a cork from a wine bottle, landing somewhere in the blood-stained sand.

One chain fell loose, and the dragon's entire body shifted in response. It tested its new freedom, pulling against the remaining restraints. The other columns groaned under the increased strain.

Septimus stared down at me, his face as familiar as my own, even under dirt and blood. There was a look in his eyes I didn't recognise, and it took my words away. He reached down and gently touched my face.

"You're insane," he told me softly, and then he was gone, running for the next column. More bodies fell around us, but the dragon's presence kept most people from straying too close. Those who did were quickly snatched up or batted aside by its tail.

Above us, the chaos grew worse. Someone had set fire to one of the wooden sections, perhaps thinking to clear a path to escape. The flames spread quickly through the ancient timber, adding fresh screams to the cacophony. Smoke began to fill the arena, making it harder to breathe, harder to see.

I reached the second column just as Septimus arrived at the third. The spike here was driven in at an awkward angle, making it harder to strike properly. My first blow glanced off, nearly taking my own foot as the hammer head slipped. The second connected but felt wrong - the shock of it numbed my hands.

"Livia, stop!"

Marcus's voice. I didn't look back, couldn't afford to be distracted. The third blow finally found purchase, loosening the spike enough that I could work it free with desperate hands. The second chain fell, and now the dragon had enough slack to raise its head to full height.

Steam poured from its nostrils as it tested its new range of motion. One massive wing unfurled partially, scattering sand and fallen bodies alike. Through our connection, I felt its growing realization of freedom, felt the ancient fury that had built up over years of captivity.

"The third one's loose!" Septimus called. The sound of his hammer against stone punctuated his words as he moved to the final column. "Almost there!"

More shouts from behind me now - voices I recognized. The other gladiators had finally realized what we were doing. I heard running feet approaching, but it was too late to stop us. The dragon's tail swept across the sand, forcing them to retreat or be crushed.

The final spike proved stubborn, even under Septimus's strength. Each blow echoed off the arena walls, mixing with the screams from above and the deeper, more terrible sounds from the city beyond. Through gaps in the smoke, I caught more glimpses of dark shapes moving against the burning sky. The Talfen were getting closer.

Then, with a sound like thunder, the last spike tore free. The chain fell, and the dragon was unbound.

Its wings unfurled fully, spanning nearly the width of the arena. The downdraft as they spread knocked people off their feet, sent loose sand stinging against exposed skin. Its head rose up, up, until it seemed to blot out the smoke-filled sky. Steam poured from its jaws as it tasted true freedom for the first time in so long.

"Livia!" Marcus screamed. "Get away from it!"

But I couldn't move. I stood transfixed as that massive head lowered, bringing one golden eye level with my body. This close, I could see my reflection in its pupil, could feel the heat rolling off its scales. Steam washed over me with each breath, and the spikes along its jaw were longer than my forearm.

We had formed a connection over months of secret visits, had built what I thought was trust. But now, seeing it in its full, terrible glory, feeling the rage and hunger that rolled off it in waves, I wasn't sure if any human friendship could overcome years of torture and captivity.

The dragon's jaws parted slightly, revealing rows of teeth that could shear through iron. A low rumble built in its chest, different from any sound I'd heard it make before. Time seemed to stop as we stared at each other, human and dragon, captive and liberator, while around us the world descended into chaos and flame.