Amora

"Light at the end of the arched tunnel. Blood on the stone wall. Rust on the cell's bars. The glance of a gladiator sitting in his cell. The soldier's sandals stepping in front of her. Amora grasped every detail as her world moved in slow motion, drawing her closer to her fate. The stench of death permeated the suffocating darkness, making a mockery of the heightened vitality within her. Her chains rattled, gears ground, animals roared, and people cheered. She gave them no heed. Amora, in a...