The colosseum was only half full.
Daemons occupied the lower terraces in scattered groups, while ordinary demons crowded onto the narrower benches above. Late arrivals hurried down the steps, looking for seats before the gates closed.
Below them stretched a wide floor of dark stone slabs. Old scars crossed its surface, interrupted by thin engravings running toward the arena walls.
A curved barrier enclosed the fighting ground. Higher overhead, another shield diverted the falling fire, sending orange light across the stands.
"Who's the Heart Reaper fighting?"
A Daemon with bony plates along his jaw leaned toward the woman beside him.
"Blackmoon."
"Who's that?"
"I was hoping you knew."
She turned to the group behind them. None recognised the name.
They knew the Heart Reaper. Few members received the Blessing of the Abyss, and the names of those who did travelled quickly.
But this Blackmoon might as well have appeared from nowhere.
