ZIONs POV... Walking across the bridge that leads to the underground cell of the grand arena. I nod my head at the two guards standing on each side of the threshold leading inside the cell.  They cross their arm over their chests and bow their heads as they get down on one knee.  "Your respect has been gained," I say emphatically as I come to a standstill in front of them. "When there is no one else around, you are no longer compelled to bend the knee. Ascend and proceed to protect the arena with your life." The guards stand tall, their maces slamming against the hard ground. "The rite of passage to the afterlife comes to an end here." They vocalize triumphantly in unison. A chant that has been said for many earla years as you enter the arena's cell.  Nodding my head, I proceed to enter the cell where Thake and Thane are being imprisoned.  "Well well well... If it isn't the alpha king himself." Thane chides

ZIONs POV... "STOP!" She bellows with her voice echoing loudly through the cave. I come to a screeching standstill, huffing and puffing as I turn my head to the right and then the left.  Focussing on the hissing sounds that are growing louder and louder by the second. I carefully set her down on the ground, making sure she has found her footing before I turn around and face the way we had just come. Confronting danger head-on in all its glorious pandemonium. "Oh my god," her voice quivers with an underlay of panic and fear. She stands behind me, clutching my vest as if it were her lifeline. "There's so many of them," She gulps on thin air. Looking through my duffel bag once again, I find another light stick and snap it against my thigh. I throw it and draw my whip sword from its sheath, curling my fingers around the leather handle until they turn a ghastly shade of white.  My eyes widen as the light stick soar

ZIONs POV...While I take cover under a large tree, I press my back flush against the tree trunk with a vicious snarl escaping past my cold lips.As I walked out of the cave in search of some fire branches, a high tech drone with heat sensory and a wide range of distance sensory was heading in my direction. I had to use my whip blade to cover my footprints through the thick snow, hoping they wouldn't be able to track me.The people of ODRION are different. They worship a God that doesn't exist, making their beliefs and rituals erratic and fatal without a real purpose. Pulling my fur coat over my head, I close my eyes, gripping my whip blade tightly and I try to concentrate on the buzzing sound as it draws near.  I swing my blade, releasing the whip to my right, slicing the drone in half. It sparks as it lands on the snow, releasing a bright yellow light into the sky before it self destructs.FUCK!!Suddenly, there is a violent rip

MIYAs POV... As we reach the kingdom I have tracked Zion too, I come to a halt on the hilltop as I observe the queen's knights guarding the entry. "There are too many of them for us to take down alone," Jaja whispers, setting Sofia down gently onto the snow.  "No, this is the perfect time to see what I am capable of. I can feel the light oracles purified blood thrumming through my veins." I  turn to face Sofia, " Forgive me,"  "For what?" She asks with a scowl marring her features. "For this," I place my hand on her head, and will her to sleep.  Opening my eyes, I catch a glimpse of Jaja lurching forward with wide eyes as he catches her sleeping body.  "What did you do to her?" He asks as he quickly examines her face and body. "I had to put her to sleep. She is a distraction to you Jaja and we can not afford to fuck this up." I whisper, "Here, take this," I remove my fur coat, not needing it as I'm burn

MIYAs POV... I approach the Willow tree in the garden of wisdom feeling drawn to it with a new outlook on life. I can't help but feel like it is familiar to me, and the more I think about it... I quickly recall my father owning a canvas that he used to hang up in our hut.  It was painted by my mother when she awoke one morning with the desire to paint, and I recall the glittering leaves being my favourite aspect of her painting. I would sit on the cold, hard surface, imagining my mother creating the extraordinary piece. It must have been a chosen memory my ancestor passed down. A sense of needing to touch the tree consumes me and I reach out, placing my palm on the aged trunk. Gasping with surprise, I watch wide-eyed as I turn the leaves that resemble glowing butterflies into gold. Removing my hand, I take three steps back, glancing upwards to get a proper look at the tree in all her splendour. "But how?..." I whisper to myself.