Summary
They are the most celebrated gladiators of the Roman Empire. Famed for their inhumane strength and glorified for their bloodlust. They remain even in victory captives of a society more powerful then the Roman Empire. Slaves of the Nightworld they are Nightworlders fallen from grace and they fight for freedom.
Chapter 1
Felix dreamt of power and glory and freedom during the day and relived death and humiliation during the night.
It was dark now and he had no control over the visions that came to him, startlingly real: taunting him, wounding him, mocking him.
He was spinning around slowly in a circle looking out at the screaming masses that filled the arena, talking and laughing. The atmosphere was like that of a summer carnival and his stomach turned in hatred.
He spun around faster and faster until the faces were just a blur of colours indistinct and hazy, a quivering ugly mess. They meant nothing; they were nothing he told himself.
Yet they held his fate in the palms of their hands.
The noise that had started off as a quiet hum rose and rose until he was almost deafened with it. They shouted his name and praised his strength and he despised them.
Yet they could decide his destiny with a flick of a thumb.
He stopped spinning abruptly but the world still spun around him faster and faster as if to mock him for his illusion of control. You are ours and we will hold you captive till the day you die; the crowds now seemed to whisper over and over again their voices mocking.
He couldn't block out the sound. It reverberated around and around the arena growing louder and louder, gaining strength until it was a physical force: threatening and sinister. Suddenly the noise rose to a screeching crescendo and everything around him shattered. Walls cracked and bricks fell until he was buried under the debris, unable to see, unable to breathe.
He gasped for air again and again only to find himself inhaling dirt and grime. His body burned and ached and he felt his eyes closing against his will.
Felix woke with a start, panting. His body was covered in a thin film of sweat and his heart pounded deafeningly in his ears. He sat up jerkily taking deep gulps of air until his lungs scorched and burned.
His breathing slowly returned to normal and he could think again and he was filled with fury. They would never win, he vowed. He would break free of the chains that bound him and avenge every wrong against him.
Victory would be his for he was immortal.
He was beautiful beyond belief and cruel beyond comprehension and he would do anything and sacrifice anyone to gain what he had been denied so long.
He would annihilate both the Nightworld and the Roman Empire if need be.