I shiver. ‘Very well indeed’ means he came up with something especially creative and painful. Oy.

Armageddon gestures to Verus. “There’s been no Scala Heir for nearly twenty years. Why question it now?”

Verus bows her dark head. “We deem the time ripe.”

“Whatever are you up to?” He drums his long fingers on the armrest of his throne. “Is there a prophecy involved?”

“To an Oracle, there’s always a prophecy.” Her eyes flare bright blue. “Answer my question. The Scala Heir.”

“We’ll find the poor sod.” He leans forward, setting his bony elbows on his knees. His eyes narrow as his stare locks with Verus’s steady gaze. The air becomes charged with strange, oppressive energy. My chest tightens.

Armageddon’s eyes flare bright red. “It’s about time I made another Scala Heir suffer.”

The word ‘suffer’ echoes strangely about my head. In my mind’s eye, I see a man with mismatched eyes and jet-black hair. He’s a burly powerhouse of muscle, covered in blood and screaming. I don’t know why, but I feel certain he’s the last Scala Heir. My knees turn watery beneath me. A heavy patch of clouds roll past the always-gray sky, darkening the Arena.

Somehow, Walker is at my side, his hand set about my shoulder. His arm is lean and roped with muscle, stronger than I would have expected. “What’s wrong Myla?”

The man’s screaming face fills my mind. “You don’t see it?”

“No, Myla. You’re catching energy from Verus and Armageddon. Sometimes, it causes hallucinations.” He scans the skies. “Just a few seconds more.”

Verus inspects the crowd with ice-blue eyes. “Let the games begin.” She wears a satisfied smile as she slowly resettles into her white stone throne.

“So be it.” Sharkie thumps his staff onto the ground. The sky lightens, my legs become solid beneath me again. What the Hell is going on?

Walker releases his hold on my shoulder. “Alright now?”

“Yeah, thanks.” I suck in a few deep breaths. “What was all that? I felt like I’d pass out.”

“Battle of wills between Verus and Armageddon. I felt it too, but not to the point of seeing any visions.” Walker wraps his hand in mine. His skin is warm and comforting. “You need to prepare yourself to fight, Myla. They’re about to summon the soul. Can you do that for me?”

I give his hand a squeeze and crack my neck from side to side. “Hells, yeah.” With each passing second, more strength pours back through me. “Bring it on.”

Walker grins. “That’s my girl.”

Sharkie thumps his scythe again. “We summon the soul for battle.” A ghostly woman materializes beside him. Wiry and thin, she has slightly hunched shoulders and frizzy gray hair down to her waist. A constellation of scars covers her swollen face.

The human woman quickly raises one arm, pointing to Sheila. “I choose her.”