Heirs of Tomorrow

[Fez_The_Kid]

Closed to redford.

Anubis sat cross-legged on the tiles, brown locks swaying against the warm waterside breeze. Mid-morning sunlight bled through violet clouds, kissing his bare skin with its caressing touch. His iron sword lay, under his gaze, in its leather scabbard before him.

An observer standing a dozen paces off would infer that there was a conversation underway - between human and metal. A bond had formed, seen by no-one but the Salvarian. It had been chained through time and memorable trials.

A set of stairs revolved his position, rising into a ruined, concrete platform. It was suspended in the air, supported by magic. At one side the platform rose into a sapphire-blue dome, its vault made from royal jade. Two statues flanked the circle, concrete erections thrust into the morning sky. They were ten feet high - bodies of humans capped by heads of royal phoenixes. A long sword acted like a crane in their stony grasp, the tip anchored in the concrete floor.

“Sir?” A voice said, its sound reaching no more than beyond his mind.

The Salvarian youth retrieved his sword, straightened to his full height. “Yeah?” he grunted.

“Just checking if you’d begun the fight,” Plague said, tone reassuring. “Sorry to interrupt.”

Anubis said nothing, heaving a sigh as the scabbard lay stock-still in his grasp. The phoenix heads of the statues were like a reflection, standing in front each other. Their beaks were matching, in size and sharpness both. The Salvarian took the brief flight of stairs to the side opposite the dome, his moccasin but a few feet away from dangling over the seas. Must be a thousand feet drop. Yeah, can’t let my guard down.

The place was, he reckoned, an old castle ruin. The walls were ancient, crumbled; a handful sum of it sunken into the depths below. The monks sure are creative when it comes to setting an arena. It had something… foreboding to it. Which, he considered, always held a grim finality. Nevertheless, he’d come here. By entering the Citadel, blood would follow. Or heads will roll, Anubis considered;a lesson many a time taught to him by his mortality.

“But they sure are damn slow when it comes to bringing opponents round,” he muttered.