Beneath the grandeur of the arena, hidden from the prying eyes of the cheering crowds above, lay a labyrinth darkness and despair where many of the beasts that fought for the entertainment of the humans above resided. It was a filthy place, where the bellows of pain and agony danced off the walls in a horrid song.

It was a awful place, but it was all Nero knew.

His cell was colder than usual, the damp floor soaking into his scraps of clothing that he huddled around his figure. The walls of this accursed chamber were slick with crimson, painted with the marks of his countless battles just like the scars and blood that laced his body where he fought to live just one more day in this prison. He had begun to question why at this point. His sharp ear twitched at the sound of the chains that hung from the ceiling, the metallic clinks a chilling reminder of the fate that awaited him should he dared to oppose the will of his captors again.

The weight of iron around his neck suddenly grew much heavier.

Torches flickered dimly in the hallway outside of his cell, casting long, twisted shadows that stretched across the cold stone floor like specters of the damned.

“Hey.” A meek voice spoke, a whisper that reached his ear.

Nero didn’t move for a moment, wondering if his sanity had finally snapped after so long and he had begun to hear things. Yet, that explanation was crossed out when he heard the sound again.

“Hello?” The voice spoke again, and this time, he raised his head, looking back over his shoulder only to see a dimly lit figure crouching there on the other side of the cell. In each hand was an object, in one was a bowl of water and in the other a large piece of bread that was being held out through the bed bars of his prison.*

“You look like you need this.” The voice spoke, and in that moment as his eyes lifted, he caught sight of something that made his chest tighten.*

𝐀 𝐒𝐦𝐢𝐥𝐞.