Ignatius-Valdis [Heaven’s Curse, #0]: Chapter 9

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Gothalia ignored the fight. Her focus on the top of the cliff wall and around searching for a safe exit, her mind rejecting the sound crunching of bones, clash of steel and the whistle of Leviathan’s arrows as they pierced the air around her—targeting the monster. Eventually, Gothalia’s eyes landed on the cave opening opposite her, where the others who entered the simulation laid in their own blood—not all some. She frowned, her expression a mixture of worry and fear.

Maximus’s gasp caught her attention when he asked, “Are they still alive?”

“I don’t know,” Gothalia replied. “But we need to either get out of here or take out that thing before it kills us.”

Maximus observed Anton and Leviathan battle the monster with a furrow to his brows. “We might not have a chance at killing it though.”

“I thought as much,” Gothalia murmured. She cast a final look at the cavern and pressed onward, half-leading, half-hauling Maximus with her. When the jagged bones beneath them slid at an awkward angle, Maximus stumbled. Gothalia’s hand clamped down on his arm, her strength the only thing keeping him upright as the ground crumbled underfoot.

Anton and Leviathan threw themselves at the monster, a desperate gamble to buy Gothalia the seconds she needed to haul Maximus away. She dragged him over the shifting bones toward the flatter earth near the entrance, where the recruits lay in a widening pool of crimson. As they drew closer, the truth hit them—the bodies were perfectly, unnervingly still. Gothalia’s eyes widened in horror, but Maximus simply looked away. “They’re dead,” he rasped.

Maximus swallowed; his expression wan. “We’ll be too if we don’t keep moving.”

“Right,” Gothalia muttered, his words pulling her out of her thoughts. She pulled Maximus’s arm tighter around her and entered the dark cave. Amongst the darkness their eyes adjusted and the path laid bare before as they followed. After several minutes of walking, Gothalia paused and glanced down the corridor they’d walked. “Where’s Anton and the Prince?” Gothalia queried, scanning the darkness behind them. “Shouldn’t they have followed?”

Maximus was silent for a moment. “I’m not sure.”

“You don’t think they’ve been killed?” Gothalia asked, her eyes searching his. Maximus scowled at the thought, but Gothalia was already moving again, her pace quickening. Then, a soft gasp cut through the gloom. The air turned heavy with the smell of fresh blood, stopping them in their tracks. Both turned, their curiosity replaced by tension as they spotted a slender figure further down the passage.

Gothalia gave Maximus a quick look before lowering him to the floor, well clear of the approaching shadow. Her sword cleared its scabbard without a sound. They watched in a shared, stony silence as the figure moved toward them. The tension in Gothalia’s shoulders slightly eased as she observed the way Excelian reached out blindly, its footsteps faltering and wary, yet cautious as it moved through the blinding darkness. The figure lacked the predatory grace of a Deamone, and Gothalia sensed the Angelus blood within their veins.

Gothalia stepped aside, vigilantly as the figure approached, scrutinising it move closer in the dark towards them. Gothalia’s sword inches from their throat. They heard it mutter, “Where did they go?”

Confusion and uncertainty washed over Maximus, but Gothalia didn’t share his reaction. Once the figure was close enough, she pressed the blade of her sword against the person’s throat.

“Who are you and why did you follow us?” Gothalia asked, darkly.

The voice gasped and raised its hands in the dark. “I mean you no harm,” the woman uttered shakily. “Please . . . I just want to go home.”

Gothalia held her sword vast, her eyes narrowed on the woman in consideration, searching for deceit. Once Gothalia was satisfied, with her, she sheathed her sword. “Then why are you here?” she asked, immediately.

The woman sighed. “I didn’t exactly have a choice.”

“Were you drafted?” Gothalia queried, confused.

“No, not exactly. I was more pressured than anything,” the stranger confessed, in a quiet voice.

“That’s not our problem,” Gothalia remarked.

“Of course,” the woman quickly replied flustered, then queried after a moment. “Our?” Her confusion evident to everyone in the passage.

“Gothalia and I.” Maximus uttered, from behind them. His voice resonated around the taciturn cave and Gothalia strode to him, ignoring the woman. Gothalia helped Maximus to his fee and regarded him in the darkness, recognising the much slower beat of his heart. She began to worry.

“Well, if you don’t want to be here you should go home,” Gothalia remarked, guiding Maximus away from the stranger.

“I would if I could,” she replied, and Gothalia only now noticed the additional smell of blood mingling with Maximus’s in the air and its familiar scent.

“You’re injured.” Gothalia noted, glancing at the woman through the darkness. Gothalia noticed she watched her hesitantly.

“Yeah,” she said. “That monster attacked me before it went after your teammate.” Gothalia contemplated her words and guilt settled in her stomach, at the thought of Maximus.

“Huh . . .” Gothalia responded, her mind wondering. “Your team?”

“Dead, that thing killed everyone,” she replied. “You don’t mind if I stay with you? Do you?”

Gothalia wrapped Maximus’s arm tighter around her shoulder when she felt him slip a little. Gothalia didn’t respond to her immediately, considering her words and if there were others within the arena who were alive or still present. “Do what you want.”

“Thank you,” she beamed.

“Don’t thank me yet,” Gothalia responded. “We still need to find that flag and get out of here.”

“Why do we need the flag?” she asked. “And what purpose does it serve?”

Gothalia watched her for a moment before walking ahead, with her following. “According to his majesty—the Prince. To get out of here we need to find the flag to automatically deactivate the simulation.” Gothalia answered, her eyes on the path head she could clearly make out, but she knew the woman behind her would find it much more difficult.               

“Problem is we don’t know where it is,” Maximus added, with a strained breath.

“Is there a place we can start maybe a rough idea?” she pressed.

Gothalia shot her a look with the darkness and Maximus noticed the lines of annoyance etching her face. “Rewind, a little. Who are you?” Gothalia asked, peering over her shoulder to eye the woman.

“Sorry, I forgot to introduce myself. I’m Persephone. Persephone Maragos,” she answered, with a slight smile.

Gothalia dismissed the expression on her face and turned ahead. “Well, Persephone, try and keep up. I shouldn’t have to carry you as well.”

“I understand.” They moved further down the stone corridor arriving at a large open cavern, that trickled fresh water with a large shallow pool. “Where are we?” Persephone asked.

“Not sure,” Gothalia murmured. She lowered Maximus to the ground and felt the damp heat of the cloth on his shoulder. It was far too wet. Her mind raced through the anatomy; a nicked artery was the only explanation. He’ll heal, she reassured herself.

She pressed the cloth against his throat herself, only pulling away once she felt his own hand take the weight and maintain the pressure. “Hold it.” At the pool, she scoured the blood and grit from her hands before cupping the water to her lips. Wiping her mouth, she climbed back to her feet and reached for Maximus, guiding him over to the pool so he could join Persephone at the water’s edge.

The area fell silent as they retreated into their own minds, a peace that lasted only until a dull vibration began to hum through the rock. It grew louder, a mounting thunder that culminated in the wall opposite them bursting inward. Chunks of earth showered the pool as Anton and Leviathan were propelled through the air, crashing into the wall right beside Gothalia.

The monster emerged, its roar shaking the cavern. Its blood-red eyes raked over the survivors before settling on its primary targets. In one fluid, brutal motion, the creature seized a jagged piece of the collapsed wall and flung it at them. Gothalia reacted instantly, shoving Maximus aside just as the boulder tore through the space where he had been standing.

Persephone unsheathed her sword and charged at the monster. Easily, the monster avoided her attack before striking her in the stomach with its knee. Its slender fingers gripped Persephone by her blood-streaked blond hair causing a shriek of pain to erupt from the woman. Gothalia glared at the monster and threw her short blade at its wrist, forcing it to loosen its hold on her.

Persephone landed in the shallow pool, discarded by the monster, who then moved from her and towards Gothalia and Maximus. Immediately, Gothalia climbed to her feet and threw another knife into the monster’s arm before running from Maximus and to Anton and Leviathan lodged into the cave wall.

Gothalia fought with a desperate edge, twisting and lunging to stay out of the monster’s reach. Every time it closed the distance, she forced a block, but the creature was relentless; its jagged claws found purchase, leaving a map of shallow, stinging gashes across her skin.

“Anton!” she screamed, her voice raw. “Wake up!”

Lunging beneath the monster’s reach, Gothalia delivered a brutal kick to its leg and rolled away before it could pin her. She stood for a second, chest heaving. “Any time now, guys,” she whispered to the empty air.

Her eyes widened as the creature tore a boulder-sized piece of the cavern floor from the earth and launched it. She ducked, the wind of the projectile ruffling her hair. “New trick,” she noted grimly, twisting out of the path of a following strike.

Leviathan dropped from the wall, his feet hitting the stone with a dull thud. He spared a quick glance at Anton, who remained slumped and unconscious, offering nothing but a low, pained groan. Leviathan began to let out a breath of relief—until a blood-curdling scream from Gothalia ripped through the cavern. He whipped his head toward the sound, his muscles locking in a fresh surge of adrenaline.

He scrambled up from the ground, already reaching for his quiver. In one fluid motion, he notched an arrow and let fly, the shaft burying itself deep in the monster’s shoulder. As the creature shrieked, Gothalia looked at him in stunned relief before desperately crawling away. A thick trail of crimson followed her, the wound on her leg pulsing through her clenched fingers. Once clear, she shredded a strip of her dark grey shirt and cinched it tight around the gash to stem the flow.

The monster fixed Leviathan with a look of pure malice. It gripped the arrow, snapping the shaft with a sickening crack before slowly drawing the arrowhead from its shoulder. A dark stream of blood crawled down its hide. Leviathan didn’t blink; his hand went to the quiver on his forearm, his fingers brushing against the fletching as he counted. Only three left. He squared his shoulders as the beast turned fully toward him, baring its fangs in a low snarl. Using the cave wall for leverage, Gothalia forced herself upright, her heart sinking as she watched the monster’s tail twitch with impatience. She hobbled toward Anton.

Leviathan ducked beneath a swipe of the monster’s claws just as Gothalia spotted Anton’s sword lying in the dirt a few feet away. She glanced back toward the beast, her heart sinking; her own blade was still trapped at the creature’s feet, hopelessly out of reach.

Persephone moved with a pained, cautious gait, her hand pressed against her stomach. Suddenly, she broke into a run and slashed at the monster’s shoulder. It countered instantly; an open-palm blow caught her mid-stride, hurling her backward until she crashed into Maximus.

Leviathan avoided another attack before, fire, he summoned, wrapped around the monster’s wrist, severing its hand from its body. With the monster distracted, Gothalia grabbed Anton’s sword from beside her and ran at the monster as fast as she could and sliced its leg unaware of the fire coating her sword, severing the monster’s shin from its knee. Then just as quick, the fire vanished.

Immediately, Leviathan fired another arrow, piercing the monster’s throat. Black blood gushed from the wound, and he fired his final arrow at the monster’s head until it ceased to move before crumbling to the ground. Its body faded into nothing. Everyone relaxed.

“You, okay?” Leviathan asked Gothalia, who sat on her rear staring at the monster. “I’m fine,” she replied. With a handout, he helped her to her feet and steadied her when she limped. “You’re injured and you still attacked, why?”

“I noticed you didn’t have enough arrows. I tried to make an opening. I didn’t think I’d do any damage,” Gothalia confessed, her eyes drifted over where the ash of the monster remained.

“We’ll I’m glad you did.” Leviathan answered. He watched as Persephone helped Maximus stand. Anton groaned and opened his eyes, Gothalia hobbled to him.

“Are you okay?” she asked, looking up at him from where he laid in the wall above.

“My head hurts,” Anton groaned. Before a word could be uttered in reply, the world began to fade. The dark stone of the cave bled into a brilliant white glare, and the Cetatea’s simulation vanished. The transition was instantaneous; one moment they were in the cavern, and the next, they were back in the dome, Anton collapsing onto the floor as reality rushed back in.

Gothalia reached him gradually and looked around, her heart sinking as she took in the others who had entered the arena with them. A small group of survivors lingered to one side, among them the woman who had survived Anton’s blade. At the far end of the silver hall, the cost of the trial was laid bare; the floor was crowded with those too badly injured to move and those who would never rise again.

Gothalia observed Nicolas carefully, an air of uncertainty consumed her before she recognised a certain glint in his eyes. Gothalia frowned, then gasped searching for something to lean on until she felt someone steady her. She glanced back; Anton stood directly behind her, steadying her, “How much pain are you in?”

“A lot,” she muttered.

“Don’t push yourself.” Anton declared, with a hint of concern.

Gothalia asked, “How’s Max?” A wave of alarm hit them both at the sight of Maximus—his skin was slick with sweat, his eyes shut tight. Persephone shakenly tried to wake him, then looked up at them, her eyes wide with mounting dread.

Before anyone could utter a word, a man dressed in a light blue and silver uniform dropped beside Maximus, then another. Both of whom, worked diligently to stop Maximus’s bleeding. Gothalia relaxed at the sight before a woman kneeled before her and asked, “How badly are you in pain?”

Gothalia groaned, “It’s decent.”

“Scale of one to ten?”

“Eight.” The woman examined the wound as much as she could through Gothalia’s pants before asking permission to cut a small part of her pants to see the wound more clearly. Gothalia nodded. Until another, dressed in identical clothing stood before her, shinning a light in her eyes that Gothalia flinched under, asking basic questions.

Fatigue was etched into the faces of Gothalia and the other recruits as the medical assessor finished with her. Satisfied with her results, he turned his attention to Anton, repeating the same lines of questioning. Once Anton was cleared, the man moved to Leviathan, silently noting his injuries as he shone a light into his eyes to check his vitals.

The Meds cleared Gothalia and continued their rounds, moving from Anton to Leviathan. Aside from a few stinging scrapes, he had fared better than the others, his injuries mostly limited to dull bruises.

Nicolas Ignatius-Geraldo strode past every recruit that survived with an air of pride or arrogance—Gothalia watched indiffently. “Why’s he smiling?” Anton growled barely within ear shot of Gothalia and Leviathan.

“Because we survived.” Leviathan replied, in place of Gothalia.

Nicolas paused before Gothalia. The scorn and disgust settling on his features couldn’t be ignored but Gothalia didn’t care, as his golden-brown eyes coldly tapered on her, and she stared back at him, unphased. “Normally, it’s customary to respect your elders and your superiors,” he said, with such detachment that Gothalia’s eyes narrowed on him at the implication.

“Respect is earnt not wrought,” Gothalia remarked.

Nicolas Ignatius-Geraldo remained silent, his expression tight with mild frustration as he stared at her. Finally, he tore his eyes away, his features softening as he turned toward Leviathan with a small, acknowledging smile. He looked right past Anton and Maximus as if they didn’t exist, his gaze never even faltering. With a gentle grin and a quiet greeting for Persephone, he pivoted on his heel and moved toward the other recruits.

“What was that all about?” Maximus asked, approaching them with Persephone behind him. His shirt removed and clutched in his hand, but in place were bandages and a sling. Gothalia regarded it expressionlessly. She hadn’t expected him to have dislocated, broken or cracked something amongst it all too. She cast her gaze away immediately.

They tended to him, she was grateful.

“He’s reminding me of my place,” Gothalia said.

“At least he looked at you,” Anton uttered, with a shrug of his shoulders.

“I would have preferred being ignored.” she countered, evenly.

Leviathan remained silent, absorbing their words while his attention drifted to the front of the room. There, Nicolas stood with a cadre of Centurions, Legionnaires, and Cavaliers, all watching the injured recruits with a practiced, stoic detachment. Two Koriants were present for each division, their presence a silent weight in the room. Gothalia studied them, noting how their uniforms shared a common design but were distinguished by sharp, contrasting colors. Her gaze raked over their faces until it snagged on a familiar one: Danteus. He stood in the crimson of a Centurion’s non-combat attire—a uniform she had seen many times before—beside a dark-haired stranger she didn’t recognize.

Nicolas regarded the group before a holographic screen, casing the wall behind him, catching everyone’s attention. Until his voice met every ear in the room. “Well, to those who survived the initial screening. You are now eligible to continue with your recruitment process. However, as expected you’ll be screened mentally, physically and energetically in areas that weren’t covered in stage one. We require our soldiers to be the best of the best, regardless of which division you choose: the Centurions, Legionnaires or the Cavaliers.” A sudden chill crawled up Gothalia’s spine at his words and she watched him as he continued with a sudden caution to her eyes, “As everyone is aware we’ve been fighting the Xzandians for several centuries from the shadows and we’ll continue for many more. Good luck.”

Gothalia regarded Nicolas while shock and anger marred her expression, words couldn’t begin to describe the thoughts mulling through her mind. “Does that man not care about anyone aside from his ego?” she muttered to Anton beside her.

In turn, Anton replied. “It doesn’t seem like it.”

Gothalia observed Nicolas a little longer until he gave the signal for everyone to leave. Nicolas vacated the room along with the other Centurions, Legionnaires and Cavaliers who stood behind him. Gothalia noticed the Centurions who lined the room, they were the same people she recognised before she entered the artificial world, they guarded them. Or rather watched them. A woman strode towards Gothalia with a proud smile. “Congratulations for completing the first step and surviving for as long as you have,” the blond-haired woman declared.

“Thanks,” Anton murmured, with uncertainty and hesitation. Gothalia smiled at her. That was kind, she thought.

The woman turned their back on them, with a digital clipboard in hand, and walked away gesturing for them to follow and Gothalia to hobble with a Med. “I didn’t doubt you lot wouldn’t fail. Some had surprised me though,” the woman declared, with a quick glance over her shoulder at Persephone who Gothalia could tell scowled with at the woman before them with subtle festering rage. Gothalia turned her attention to the woman once more who eyes returned to the front. “However, I knew his majesty would be fine he is a part of the Ignatius clan, after all. I’m sorry you were separated from your group,” she said, pausing before the elevator. She watched Leviathan with sadness.

“It’s fine I’m sure they’re okay,” he replied, entering the elevator with Gothalia, Anton, Maximus, Persephone and the woman. “I’m sorry you are?”

“I’m Domitia Aelius from the second house of Aelius and I’m your Simulation Assessor.” A stunned silence gripped the elevator. Before anyone could find their voice, she turned her back on them and swiped her pass, the doors sliding shut as the lift began its ascent.