Blogtober 2021 Story Project
The Libyan soldier who was dying in the cell when Lucius arrived now stood in the corridor, clearly dead, but somehow standing and speaking in clear Latin. The wound in his stomach wasn’t bleeding, but the bone of a rib jutted through his pale, bloodless skin.
“What did they do to you?” Lucius said.
“They gave me eternal life,” the Libyan said, “and more power than you can imagine. You can have it for yourself if you surrender.”
“Rome doesn’t train us to surrender,” Lucius said, “and I’d rather be a shade in the Underworld than join up with your lot. Don’t see the appeal in being a living corpse.”
“You have but one choice—serve willingly, or serve as a mindless drone. Either way, your fate is determined.”
“I don’t believe in fate, I don’t believe in the gods, and I certainly don’t believe in whoever is pulling your strings,” Lucius replied.
“Do you think you chose to return?” the Libyan said. “Or that you were brought here by mistake or chance? My master has seen the prophecy, and you are part of its fulfillment.”
“Enough talk,” Lucius said. “Time for you to die for good.”
He lowered his spear and assumed a combat stance. The Libyan stepped back, and a score of hooded figures emerged from the shadows behind him. His senses told him to turn around, where he saw another group of men converging upon him. They struck him unconscious before he could land a single blow.
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