Keros stood resolute as the deafening roar of the crowds died down and his opponent stepped into the arena. Wounds from his last desperate battle still plagued him, but he refused to let the pain show. This fighter bore no seals of state or house upon his armor - another mysterious wanderer drawn out of isolation by the tournament.
The herald announced the man as Rath the Immovable. True to his moniker, he was a veritable mountain of muscle and scars. In place of words, Rath smashed stone-encased fists together and gritted his teeth in anticipation. Even the hulking warrior Baldrick seemed small next to this behemoth.
Taking a deep breath, Keros tightened his grip on the longsword stained with his past victory and forced aside lingering doubts. He had come too far to falter now before reaching the heights Avita promised were his destiny. The next clash of blades would prove whether he was worthy or just another pretender.
At the horn's blare, Rath surged forward with a bellow, sledgehammer fists pounding the sand where Keros rolled aside just in time. With startling speed belying his size, Rath stayed on the offensive, unleashing massive blows Keros barely deflected with his sword. The force of impact jolted through him painfully.
"Is running and cowering behind your toothpick blade the best you can muster?" Rath growled, his voice a gravelly rumble. "Perhaps the titan Baldrick merely went easy on you."
Anger stirred in Keros at the insult. He focused inward, summoning his atman to grant heightened reflexes and clarity of mind. "If words won wars, you would have no equal," Keros shot back. "But let us speak instead with deeds."
With renewed speed and precision, Keros maneuvered around Rath, testing his defenses for weak points. But the giant seemed to anticipate each feint and probing strike, deflecting them off his stone gauntlets. The brief surge of atman already faded as weariness set in.
Rath seized the advantage of Keros' slowdown and landed a crushing fist to the chest that cracked at least three ribs. The agony nearly dropped Keros to his knees, but he somehow stayed upright through sheer stubbornness.
"Each blow only reveals more of who you truly are," Rath said, enlarging the already substantial gap between them. "And who you are is weak."
The mocking words pierced deeper. After all his battles and blood spilled, Keros still amounted to nothing in the eyes of true warriors. For a heartbeat, despair threatened to swallow him.
Then a memory surfaced through the haze of pain - his mother's tearful face on the day he left Riverbend. The family who believed in him when no one else did. They did not see weakness in their son, but potential. He could not fail them after coming this far.
With newfound resolve, Keros staunched his inner turmoil. "My family sees strength in me you cannot comprehend," he called out to Rath as they circled each other once more. "One day all shall witness it."
Keros opened his senses, drawing this time not on his own atman but the vital energy pulsing through the colosseum, its spectators, even his opponent. He became a conduit focusing every scrap of power and emotion into the tip of his blade.
Rath must have sensed the tables turning and rushed to reengage. But he was too late. Keros released the pent-up force in a blinding surge, darting inside Rath's reach and unleashing a whirlwind series of strikes faster than the eye could follow. When he finally halted, the giant was on his knees, armor rent and sundered.
"Yield," Keros demanded, leveling his sword at Rath's throat, their roles reversed from moments ago. Rath nodded solemnly in acquiescence before toppling to the arena floor with a resounding crash.
A shocked silence gripped the crowd at this unbelievable upset. Then deafening cheers erupted for the victorious underdog now striding confidently from the stage. Even several of the high lords and generals rose in applause, eyeing the young fighter with renewed interest.
But as the elation of victory faded, unease crept into Keros' mind. He had embraced the savage thrill of destruction and rage in those final frenzied blows. Was this darkness always lurking within him, waiting to be unleashed? Shaken, he decided solitude was preferable to hollow celebrations with the rowdy fighters tonight. There were deeper matters to contemplate.
In a shadowed corner of the Imperial viewing box, High Priestess Avita watched Keros depart, a calculating smile playing about her painted lips. His talents were ripening perfectly, fueled by simmering anger she intended to stoke into an inferno.
"You see the fire in him, do you not, your majesty?" she whispered into Emperor Augustus' ear. "I know that look well, for I have seen it in the very few warriors nowadays."
The emperor nodded. "Indeed. Much potential lies within that one. We shall have to keep a close eye upon his progress."
Avita hid a knowing grin. The fool actually believed he held true power here. He was her puppet, simply too oblivious to see the strings.
Meanwhile, Keros' thoughts lingered on the doors to darkness he had glimpsed within himself in the heat of battle. Once opened, could they ever be closed again?
***
Retreating to a quiet balcony overlooking the sprawling capital, he hoped the night air might cleanse his troubled mind.
Lost in contemplation, Keros didn't notice Avita's approach until she was nearly upon him. "You fought well today," she said matter-of-factly, coming to stand beside him at the balcony railing.
Keros bowed his head respectfully. "You honor me, High Priestess. I am still but a novice against such seasoned competition."
"No you are not," Avita murmured noncommittally, her sharp gaze assessing him. She was resplendent as always, clad in a flowing burgundy dress that hugged her curves. Intricate gold bracelets adorned her wrists and upper arms. An elegant ruby pendant lay nestled in her cleavage, drawing the eye.
They stood in silence for several moments, looking out over the sprawling capital. Keros felt unsettled by her stoic demeanor tonight. Had he disappointed her somehow?
"Your skills progress swiftly enough, I suppose," Avita finally continued. "But do not become overconfident. You have far to go."
Her words wounded his pride, but Keros nodded. "You speak wisdom as always, High Priestess. I shall redouble my efforts."
Avita turned to face him fully, her eyes burning with intensity. "See that you do. And enough with stuffy titles - you may call me Avita when we are alone."
She stepped closer, placing a hand on his arm. "We are partners on this journey now, you and I. Our fates entwined. Is that not so?" Her touch and honeyed tone stirred conflicted feelings in him.
"Of course mi...Avita," Keros responded, cheeks flushing. Her beauty sometimes made it difficult to string coherent thoughts together, but he could not afford to disappoint her.
"Good," Avita purred, satisfied. She moved to stroke his face lightly. "With the right motivation, you may yet become all I know you can be."
Keros' breath quickened, but Avita had already withdrawn her hand and was gliding gracefully back inside, leaving him alone once more with his roiling thoughts. Their paths were inexorably linked, that much was clear to him. Where they led, only she could say...
******
The next few days passed swiftly, a whirlwind of preparations, strategy talks, and fitful attempts at rest between matches. Keros kept mainly to himself, speaking only when necessary and avoiding the rowdy banquets some fighters reveled in each night.
When he slept, visions of past opponents haunted him, their dying cries mingling with the ghostly whispers of his atman ability. He woke each morning in a cold sweat, unsure what was nightmare and what portent.
Of all people, it was the strange waif Nina who brought Keros a measure of comfort. She would appear unexpectedly to regale him with snippets of gossip and rumors picked up flitting between camps. Her cheer was infectious, if overly meddlesome.
"So serious all the time," she teased Keros after finding him pacing instead of eating one midday. "You'll stare holes through the walls at this rate. Come on, I found us some good bread and honey!"
Keros started to refuse, but even he had to admit the cramped isolation of his quarters was maddening. Fresh air would do him good. And the girl had proven dependably discreet so far.
Together they wound through the sprawling back passageways of the colosseum normally reserved for fighters and staff. Nina kept up a steady patter about this lord's wandering eye or that servant's gambling habit. Keros responded with the occasional huff of wry laughter in spite of himself.
Wandering the deserted upper galleries, they looked down upon the complex buzzing below. For a moment, Keros could pretend he was simply here to marvel with a friend and not cement his name in legends or die trying.
But all too soon, the summons came to prepare for his next bout in the waning tournament. With a rueful smile, he bade Nina farewell. Reality awaited, harsh and uncompromising. His brief respite was over.
Down in the arming chambers, Keros donned his simple leather armor, eschewing the gaudy ornamentation some fighters favored. He preferred to rely on skill and atman rather than gleaming distractions. This was the culmination of years of relentless training under two masters - Gareth's martial tutelage melded with Avita's esoteric teachings.
Approaching the gate to the arena, Keros cleared his mind and focused on the battle ahead. His opponent was reputed to be swift and prideful. He would turn the man's strengths against him. The cheers of the crowd faded to dull background noise as the gate rose.
This was his time, his moment to seize glory. Under the beating sun, before all the assembled might of the realm, he would take another step upward, continuing his climb. Failure, doubt, weakness - none of those had any purchase here. He was, for this transient instant, transcendent.
With sword in hand, Keros Vaelstrym stepped into the arena sands once more. The path ahead might be darker and more treacherous than he could possibly imagine. But while his heart beat, he would walk it fearlessly come what may, until the very end...