Hiding beneath the darkest city lights, which shined in the blackest corners of Jedawl's winding sand touched streets, city men cirlced a pit that was drenched in blood and smelt strongly of death. And under this arena, a refuge for the perverted and the debauched, candle lights danced upon the stone walls of a single doored prison cell , holding a bandaged man and a half beaten woman.

  Above them, pebbles and dust fell quickly as a rattling sound followed, clanging between the shouted bets and unsavory wagers that echoed down into the room. And out of a hole in the wall, a rat scurried towards the woman's feet, sinking its crooked teeth into her soft skin.

  With a startled scream, her feet launched the rat into the air and the rodent, who squeaked and scratched, smashed against the wall in a bloody splat.

  With frail limbs which were clutched on bruised knees, and tattered brown hair over shaking shoulders, she cried.

  Her fear rose to a height made worse by the unknown then strangely subsided at the sight of the stranger across the room. Then Something else rose within her. A desperate curiosity that brimed behind her teary eyes.

  His black maine escaped from beneath the bandages to portray a vagrant but his brown eyes, which shined with a refinement that few in jedawl had traveled wide enough to gain told a far different story.

  She knew from his gaze alone that he was a man of the world. She continued to look at him with caution and intrigue in her eyes and he looked back with confidence and sympathy.

  "You there," she cried, "Where are we - how did we get in here - do you know my son?-"

  "I was taken as you were," he answered, his voice strangely calm and relaxed. "As many were. And i mean to make the one responsible pay. Your son, he was the gaurdsman at the palace - wasn't he?"

  Her eyes closed tight and her lips answered the bandaged stranger through quite sobs which soon fell to crying.

  "How did you know," she asked, pulling herself together after what felt like too little time to grieve.

  "Why else would a woman like yourself be here, where those who spoke out about the sultan's new mistress are sent to be dealt with."

  The woman's eyes widened quickly as his sentence ended into an understanding silence and then again closed tightly in a terror which she did not wish to show.

  "What is your name," asked the stranger with a soft voice.

  "Feriah. He didn't return that day, my son, and i knew that it wasn't by chance. That witch took my boy from me, he took my only flesh and blood. I still remember his little face as a boy, and even after all those years had passed, i still saw the face of my boy."

  "I'll see that he is avenged," the stranger said.

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  He spoke with unblinking eyes and an expression that radiated confidence and assurance. She knew undoubtedly that he meant those words.

  "But how?" she asked, "How will you avenge my son when you're stuck in here with me."

  "As intended," said stranger, a faint smile widening on the corner of his lips.

  "You wanted to be captured, Why?"

  A cry echoed from the ceiling that haunted the cell with gruesome images of death. The crowd shouted madly with a ravanous hunger that called for blood. Their excitement grew with the sounds of death, as blood and entertainment became inextricably intertwined.

  "These fights that have taken hold of the city, this sport, if it could be called that, is all in honour of that woman. The winners, those willing to spill the most blood are said to be given the honor of sharing the bed with the this cruel witch."

  A chaotic mixture of dark horror and disgust fell across the woman's face which invisioned the scenario that would have her bed her own son's sadistic killer.

  "but i'm a wom-"

  "She cares not," the stranger explained, "and her tastes of pleasure are as exotic as her sorceress ways. From what i've heard, she has a preference and wants those who lust for blood. For what purpose i do not know. But wether they be man, women or even demon is inconsequential."

  "To share a bed with the woman who slew my boy," cursed Feriah, hate seething in her voice. "I'd rather die first."

  Her defiant words, though admirable in one who had lost greatly, were not honest. Her eyes remained fixed above on the ceiling which was wet with seeping blood.

  She shuddered with doubt and fear displayed for all to see.

  Above them a sudden trickle of red droplets fell, painting the stone floor crimson. As if erupting from compounding fear, she panicked against the walls, shielding her eyes from the sight of it.

  Something dutiful stirred in the stranger across the room. His emerald eyes, fixed on this victim of cruelty, glazed into dark thoughts of justice. He rose slowly as his chains rattled across the floor, pulling him down back into the wall. Then he spoke with a kind and gentle voice.

  "Listen," he said.

  Feriah showed her eyes from behind her hands.

  "What stands before us will not be easy and i did not account for meeting you here. In all honestty i've given little thought to others since my incident at the tavern."

  "What incident," she asked, fear shaking her voice, "What did you do?"

  "I cut the fingers off a man loyal to that witch, though again, this was not part of my plan. After the chaos that ensued had ended, i had that man tell me everything he knew about her and everything she had done. It was not an entirely pleasant experience fro him but i did what i had to."

  "Good," Feriah said, with vengful tone in her voice."

  "Now listen," he said, "when we enter the arena, i will do all that i can to protect you but you will also need to defend yourself. Whatever lurks above seeks our death and if you give in, they will get it."

  "But - I've never killed anyone."

  "Up there, you won't have a choice. If you want to live, if you want to live long enough to see justice serve for your boy, then do what you need to do."

  The iron door opened suddenly across the cell. Four guardsmen stepped into the prisoner's room, wearing gold masks and shoulder plates that fell into bright yellow cloaks.

  They dragged Feriah up to her feet and unshackled her chains.

  "Wait - What is your name?" Feriah shouted across the room.

  "As far as names go, call me Jackal," the man replied as the guardsman grabbed him behind her.

  "Now prepare yourself and remember what i said."