Bang, bang, bang. Ignatius opened his eyes at the banging on the door.

    His father's voice reached him through the door. "Get up and ready, boy. I want you at the Citadel before sunrise." Ignacio didn't wait for his reply and his retreating footsteps echoed in his ears all the way from the stairs to the opening and closing of the front door.

    Ignatius lay in bed for a few more minutes, looking at the ceiling, contemplating nothing and everything all at once. Sitting up, he looked out his still-open window. It wasn't even dawn yet. The horizon was a dark gray with the moon slowly dipping down where she would soon give way to her brighter and fiercer sister.

    Finally, ready to start the horrible day that was surely ahead, he crossed to his window and closed it, hating as he shut the window, and that last breath of air caressed his cheek almost as if it too was saying goodbye.

    He changed into a set of clean clothes, not realizing that he had left his clothes from the previous day on. He had been so eaten up with guilt at killing the Arciak cub that he hadn't even bothered to change clothes or eat. His stomach grumbled in response, angry for not being fed last night.

    The stairs were silent as he descended them and made his way into the spacious and empty kitchen. He missed the kitchen at the Calida Estate. It wasn't as spacious as this one but it was always brimming with warmth and love, unlike this cold and hateful kitchen.

    Stuffing a piece of sourdough bread with Phoenix Fruit Jam on it in his mouth, he left the kitchen, stopping only to grab his shield and sword where he left them in the foyer. Ignacio had never gotten on to him about leaving his sword and shield there. So he kept doing it. He had a feeling that Ignacio let him do it because it was the only way to know if he was home instead of checking for himself.

    A warm and dry breeze rushed over his face with the opening of the door. The air reeked of filth and death alike that wafted up from the Fourth and Fifth Tiers. He knew that this was a mild smell compared to what those people in those Tiers dealt with. Those people were left to suffer with the only hope of rising out of that Nethhole was through their children. He wished he could do more but he couldn't change the hierarchy of Pyri or all of Pyrisa.

    Leaving the Farja Manor and the misery and despair of those crushed under the hierarchy, he headed to the Citadel, where another day in Neth was sure to begin.

The early rays of the sun embraced all of them as they stood on the mezzanine of the Ravine and watched the first two selected to fight each other in the Ravine. Ignatius felt bad for the poor kid that got stuck fighting Flint Bodaway. Flint was a walking terror of muscle with thick arms, and legs along with a barreled chest. Ignatius bet that Flint's neck was as thick as his thigh. Flint was sure to get fought over at the Tribulations based just on how big and muscular he was; those with more muscle mass were valued by the blacksmiths of the Volcara Clan.

    The kid that was fighting Flint was small and thin. His arms and legs were so thin Ignatius swore he could see the sharp points of his bones under his skin. The clothes he wore were big and hung off his skinny frame loosely. That was one of his issues aside from his near lack of muscle. Ignatius figured he was from Tier One. Tier One was the most impoverished of the five Tiers. Most born in Tier One stayed there their whole lives. There was little hope of ever rising out of Tier One.

Flint made quick work of the boy. The boy didn't even last two minutes with Flint before he was knocked on his back.

Ignatius snuck a glance at Ignacio to see an impassive face, no emotions, no indicator of what was going to happen next.

"What. Was. That?" Ignacio asked slowly.

The boy on the ground quickly got up and opened his mouth to reply.

"A disgrace, that's what. Did your parents even bother to teach you anything?" Ignacio growled.

Parents were expected to teach their children how to wield a sword or another type of melee weapon. Parents that did not were considered a disgrace as were their children. Being a disgrace was like a stain on one's honor and one family's honor. It was especially rude to be disgraced in the presence of a higher-ranking person.

"I am sorry, Lord Farja. I didn't mean to be a disgrace in your presence. I–,"

"From now on, you will be here an hour earlier than everyone else, practicing until you have built up some muscle and can beat another person in a fight. Is that understood?"

"Yes, Lord Farja."

"Next up is..."

For the next hour, Ignatius watched others fight in the Ravine. There were no more disgraces towards Lord Farja. The majority of the fights were evenly matched. None of them ever ended as fast as the fight between Flint and the boy.

Why Ignacio paired Flint and that boy was beyond him. Maybe he was trying to make an example of the boy. Ignacio loved to teach others lessons by making examples out of them. He knew that from first-hand experience.

"Haco Egan and Syra Ashbel."

Ignatius watched as both left the mezzanine and took the places of the previous two that occupied the Ravine.

Both carried shields but that was where the similarities ended. Haco wielded a hand and a half sword and Syra a single-bladed spear. This was one of the first fights where a spear was present. Spears were sometimes considered to be superior to swords due to their long reach and if the wielder was skilled enough they could use the spear in various other ways. This would be an interesting battle. From what he knew, Haco was from Tier Four and Syra as well. It would come down to who had been trained better, who was better skilled with their weapon, and who was willing to do whatever—without cheating—to win.

Haco and Syra began at the behest of Ignacio. The two of them slowly circled each other, weapons and shields ready to attack or defend as both waited for the other to make the first move.

Ignatius watched Haco closely. Haco was known for being a skilled tactician when it came to flights. He relied on quickly planning a strategy before actually fighting someone. He never strayed from his plan. That was a weakness Haco had developed that Ignatius noticed. Fighting was all about adapting and never sticking to a solid plan. Doing what Haco did often resulted in death. However, despite this flaw, Haco was still a damn good warrior. Syra, on the other hand, he had never heard of any particular skill set she had that made her an exceptional warrior like Haco.

Syra was the first to strike. Her spear darted forward, jabbing toward Haco's legs. Haco jumped back, his shield moving down and his sword up. Haco slashed at her with his sword, forcing her to retreat a few steps away, her spear hovering above her shield, waiting for him to attack this time. Haco indulged her and slashed at her legs, forcing her to now jump back, stabbing out with her spear as she did. Haco knocked the spear blade away with his shield and pursued Syra. Syra retreated back slowly, her form tight, creating a smaller target, protected behind her shield.

Haco kept coming at her, his shield blocking all of her attempts to stab at him. This continued until Syra backed herself into a wall. Ignatius had a feeling Haco forced her into the wall in order to corner and keep her movements limited.

Haco swung his sword smacking the spear from Syra's hand. Haco swung again, knocking the shield to the side, nearly sending Syra to the ground. Haco wrenched the shield from her grip with another swing of his sword. Now defenseless, Syra didn't move either from shock or was preparing to yield but she still didn't move as that sword arrowed down right at her abdomen. At the last second when the sword was less than a foot away from her person, she flung her body to the side and rolled, picking up her spear.

Haco wiped his head around, trying to bring his sword with him but it was lodged firmly in the side of the Ravine. Haco turned around and faced the pointed end of the spear.

"Do you yield, Haco?" Syra asked.

Haco raised his hands with shield still in hand.

Syra's eyes darted up for the signal from Ignacio that the fight was over. It gave Haco enough time to smack her across the face with his shield. Her body fell to the ground and the spear from her grip.

Ignatius grimaced. She had been so close. But Haco had also fought unfairly. The fight should have been over the moment she had him as spearpoint. But others would argue it wasn't until he was fully disarmed, including his shield.

Syra crawled for her spear, blood dribbling from her nose and the corner of her mouth. Haco kicked it far from her grip. Grabbing her by her auburn hair, he slammed his shield into her gut before relinquishing it and opting for his own fist. He delivered vicious blows over and over again until her face was bloodied and her eyes were lidded.

Ignacio not once told Haco to stop and no one dared to tell him to call the fight off.

Ignatius noticed everyone looking warily at Ignacio and whispering to each other. Ignacio wasn't going to call the fight off until Syra was made an example for them to avoid.

Ignatius wanted to go down there but he didn't dare. Ignacio would punish him greatly for disobedience. So he and everyone else watched as Haco continued to beat Syra until she finally passed out.

The mages came to take her away, leading her unconscious form out on a litter.

"Next," was all Ignacio said, like nothing just happened.

The next few fights weren't nearly as gruesome as that one. Hopefully, they wouldn't have any more like that.

"Finally, Enya Guafi and Ignatius Farja."

Ignatius left the mezzanine, followed closely behind by Enya.

"Don't screw this up for me, Farja." Enya hissed from behind him.

"I'll try not to but I'm afraid I have a habit of disappointing people."

"Oh, not capable of living up to Daddy's expectations." She said curtly.

"Something like that." He mumbled under his breath as they both entered the Ravine.

Ignatius couldn't stand to look at the blood all over the ground, already a dark black.

He had to breathe in and out slowly a few times, to bring him back to the center. He couldn't afford to lose it here. Ignacio would kill him for that.

He went to stand across from Enya in the next corner down from the one where all the blood was. He was thankful to her for that but kept his face expressionless. "Emotions make you weak." Ignacio had told him once. Ever since he had been so careful to keep his emotions under lock and key whenever around Ignacio or when he felt an attack coming. It was the only useful advice Ignacio had ever given him.

"Begin." Igancio said from the mezzanine.

Enya didn't waste any time. She launched herself at Ignatius. Ignatius got his shield up just in time as her sword struck, the force of the impact rattling his teeth. Before he could swing his own sword at her, she jumped back, her sword ready to strike once again.

He would have to admit that she was skilled, very skilled.

Enya launched herself at him again. This time, however, he was prepared. He waited for her sword to get closer and then he ducked and rolled out of the way, coming back to his feet. He swung his sword, meeting Enya's sword. Sparks flew through the air. He and Enya withdrew their swords at the time only to have them clash again and again. It was like a dance, their breathing and feet moving at the same time, to a rhythm only they could hear. Strike, parry, move, strike, parry, move, strike, parry, move over and over again until both of them were in deadlock, their swords pushing against each other, neither willing to give up. 

"Is this all you got, Farja." Enya panted out, sweat dotting her brow.

"Maybe it is, maybe it isn't. What about you?" He replied, feeling his own sweat sliding down his back and his face.

Enya scowled back. "Stop being so stubborn and yield so this can end."

Ignatius contemplated her offer for a second. He glanced up to see Ignacio practically simmering in rage. He was likely mad because his son hadn't defeated this girl yet. He couldn't afford to disappoint Ignacio. He knew what awaited him if he did so.

"I'm afraid I can't do that. Why don't you yield?"

"Afraid of disappointing Daddy dearest?" Enya taunted.  "I've got more to lose than you do. So yield and we can settle this later without anyone watching us."

Ignatius didn't know what Tier Enya was from. In fact, he knew very little about her. This was the first time he had actually talked to her for more than a handful of exchanges. But still, he could not afford to lose. He wasn't ever going back there, Never.

Ignatius shoved with all his might, sending Enya stumbling away from him. Lunging, his sword struck metal. His hand ached in pain. His sword had struck the shield head-on, breaking the tip right off it.

He quickly raised his shield to ward off a flurry of brutal attacks from Enya. Her attacks were fast and violent. She slashed at any vulnerable spot she could. He did his best to stay out of her sword's range but eventually, she managed to cut him on his thigh.

He looked at the cut and glanced up at her. She seemed to realize that she was in trouble now. He couldn't help but smile.

"My turn." He found himself saying.

"Finally," Enya replied back, her lips curling up in a smile.

He swore his heart skipped a beat. Her smile...was beautiful. He wanted to see that smile again. Every day if he could. It reminded him so much of his mother's smile.

His sword slashed at her and she blocked and parried his attacks until she too bore evidence of their battle. A small slice right above her left eye. A thin river of crimson blood dripped down her face.

At the sight of the blood, his stomach churned and his head swam as he felt an attack on the verge of overtaking him and dragging him back down into that pit.

His breath rushed out of him and he felt a sharp point at his throat. He came back to his senses and found Enya standing above him. The sun alighted her burnt-orange hair, making her look like some divine being from the Aeth.

"Why did you freeze?" Enya whispered, her burnt-orange eyes flickering with something that looked like wary. He could not figure out this girl. One moment she hated his guts and the next she was kind and now he did not even know what this was.

Before he could answer, he was interrupted.

"It seems we all still have work to do, much work to do."

For the rest of the afternoon, they worked on the basics of weaponry techniques. Ignatius knew this was punishment because he and Enya had taken too long; their fight had lasted the longest. Everyone kept gossiping that he and Enya were making goo-goo eyes at each other during the fight. He ignored them. He had more important things to worry about. He knew Ignacio was not happy at all and Ignatius was going to pay for it.

"What in the Neth was that?" Ignacio snarled, his fist striking him in the ribs again, sending him down onto his knees. "I asked you a question, boy, answer it."

    "I'm sorry." Ignatius gritted out between his teeth, his eyes on the dirt floor staring at the drops of blood marring the already blood-soaked dirt.

    Crack. Ignatius couldn't stop his body from trembling as soon as he heard the belt strike the ground.

    "Sorry?" Ignacio repeated. His back arched in pain as soon as that belt struck him. "Sorry does not win a fight or the Tribulations." Another strike. "I trained you to win, not to lose." Crack. "I expected better of you, boy. You are my son, the blood of Farja, triumphant every generation in the Tribulations of Pyrisa. I will not have you disgrace that family legacy. I will beat you every night if I have to in order for you to learn what this family's legacy means." His back cried out again as the belt struck, the metal buckle digging deeper this time.

    "Please," he begged. He didn't want this. He never wanted this. All he wanted was his mother. His brother. His home. His life.

    "Tch. Pathetic and weak. I don't even know how I ended up with a weakling son like you. Eliane coddled you too much as a child. I'll have to fix that."

    Ignacio beat him over and over again to "fix him" as he said. When his rage had left him, Ignacio left him down there. Again.

    His back was in agony. He was sure it was a mess. A bloody, ruined mess. Another batch of scars to add on top of the ones already there. Another testament to show all that he had endured under Ignacio's cruel hand ever since he was twelve.

    He just wanted it all to end and go back to the Calida Estate where no harm had ever come to him, where he was safe from all the cruelties of this wicked and hateful world.

"Wake up." Someone said to him. "Please, wake up."

    His eyes cracked open through the dried blood. He looked up to see a girl kneeling before him. She was beautiful, putting all the girls in Pyri to shame. The girls in Pyrisa had a rugged beauty to them, this girl, however, had a natural beauty to her. Her hair was gold as sand and her eyes the color of a sunlit ocean. She looked like she had been carved from the sand and ocean itself. Stunning and breathless.

    Her ocean eyes swam with concern. "What's your name?" She asked in a voice as pure and delicate as a melody.

    "Ignatius," he croaked out. He didn't know where this girl came from but she needed to leave. If Ignacio found her down here he did not want to even think of what he would do to her.

    "Leave," he told her. Her eyebrows raised half an inch. "He'll hurt you if he finds you down here with me."

    "Who will?" She asked.

    "My–Ignacio."

    "Ignacio? But you're hurt. I can't leave you here."

    "Please leave.'' He didn't care about himself. He would rather himself get beaten all over again instead of seeing a single trace of blood on her unblemished and beautiful form. She was too perfect to be harmed, especially by Ignacio.

    She shook her head. "No, you can't make me."

    She disappeared from his sight of vision. He then felt her hands on his back. They were soft and gentle touches, searching for serious damage.

    "I think I can heal you." She said.

    "How? Only mages can use healing magic." Mages had purple eyes, this girl did not. Even mages with distant magical heritage had traces of purple or pink in their eyes. There was not a single hint of purple or pink in those ocean eyes.

    "Ssh. This is our secret."

    She placed her hands firmly on his back and he felt a cooling sensation spread out across his back. His skin crawled as torn areas were stitched back up together. He hated the feeling and wanted it to stop but he didn't have the strength to tell her to stop. The soothing sensation of the magic lured him to sleep and his eyes closed and he drifted back off into the darkness.

He awoke in darkness.

He felt his body seize up as his heart quickened. Not again, not again. Not back in this pit again. He couldn't stand it. The darkness swirled around him, it's cold hands wrapping around his throat, choking him, suffocating him.

No. Not again.

Hot, boiling wrath filled his veins and it erupted, chasing off the darkness and leaving him back in the sparsely lit cellar. The flames flickered lazily in their lanterns as if nothing had happened.

He huffed a breath of relief and willed that fiery wrath back to where he had it coiled around his heart and where it would stay forever, never to be freed again.