Rise Of The Nephilim

The arena was full when they entered. Although they were not completely healed, their wounds had improved greatly during the night. That was an advantage to being Nephilim: their bodies healed remarkably quickly. Had they been just the average Human, death would have already claimed them.

As always, Āmand had ordered Epochs to stand guard along the perimeter of the battle arena. And just as before, long rectangular tables were lined up side by side around the hall with curious Nephilim sitting quietly at them. Some had their hands covering their noses, for the stench coming from the Imps was overpowering.

Āmand stood in the center of the arena, his arms folded across his chest. He had ordered all training canceled for the day so that Maxine, Gaden, Zeda, Silla, and Haman could face their punishment.

Maxine held her hand over her nose. “That smell! That alone may kill us,” she said.

Silla frowned as she coughed and gagged. “Blast! It smells like the Imps’ Dungeon!”

There were two Imps locked away in a caged room off the main hall; they growled and shook at the iron bars that held them. Āmand, with a few of his Epochs, had managed to capture them by luring them into a contained room laden with decaying meat. As the Imps tore away at the flesh, the Epochs had slung heavy chains around their necks and dragged them off.

“Well,” said Haman as he stood facing his siblings, his hands on his hips. “I think we are doomed.”

“Does Father really hate us so?” asked Silla, a cloud of tears over her eyes.

“I just hope that he’ll allow us to fight these beasts as one, for if we are to stand alone, then we are already dead,” said Maxine, stretching her neck to see the Imps behind the iron gates. “I wonder if they will be unbound while in the arena.”

Gaden stared at his siblings, his brows creased together. “That’s a good question. Will Father just let them loose in the arena?”

“I cannot imagine that Father would allow that,” Silla said.

Zeda stood just inches away in isolation from Maxine and the others. She anxiously picked at the newly formed scabs on one of her wrists. “I’m dead,” she repeated.

Maxine felt compelled to comfort her, leaving the others to talk among themselves. She’d decided that it no longer mattered what they thought of her. She felt Zeda’s pain.

She gently took Zeda’s hands by the wrists.

“Sister, it’s going to be all right.”

Zeda held her eyes to the ground. Maxine placed a finger beneath her chin and lifted her face to meet her eyes. “Nothing will happen to you. I promise. And despite how the others are acting, they will not allow anything to happen to you either. You must trust me. Okay?”

Zeda was unresponsive.

“Okay?” Maxine insisted. Finally, Zeda nodded her head in agreement.