As lights pierced through the dark, they slowly descended. She could make out the large stadium–similar to the Romans’ Colosseum. There were thousands of seats, all decorated according to the sects they belonged–to the sins they honed. Her boots finally landed on the ground, and she could make out the three sets of flowers at the front of the stage, waiting for their hosts. At the center was a pitchfork, to resemble their leader–Lucifer. Her father placed a hand on her shoulder, pushing her forward as they walked down the steps until they were at one of the closest rows to the podium. Being a general had its perks. 

A wine glass appeared before her, filling it up with Landid–her favorite–an alcoholic drink that could calm her nerves and clear her mind. Different colors glazed throughout her surroundings as noises of raging cheers erupted all around them. Soon, the seats were already piling up, from the elders to the lesser ranking officials–all of them with high hopes of their offspring being a valued contestant in the Vestimortis. 

“Cassian Eralis.” Her father stood up at the call of his name, and so did she, bowing directly at the elder standing in front of them.

“Marcus Sires, greetings.” They shook their hands, and the scowl that was once on her father’s face was replaced with a polite smile. 

“It’s been a while since I saw you.” Marcus let out a raspy laugh, patting his armor. “Then again, it’s been a long time since I’ve seen Eraief.”

“How was the mission?”

“Outstandingly, but let’s not talk about it here.” He waved dismissively, finally flickering his gaze to her. “Ira! I see you’ve grown.”

“General Marcus.” She nodded. He was one of her father’s close allies–a general with the same stature as her father’s, probably even higher as his legion was always called to the war fronts. There were more missions like these, especially with rumors surfacing how the other side was finally going to strike. “It’s an honor.”

“You’ve soared high from the ranks of your sect. Surprised me, I say!” 

Ira straightened her back, a cold smile weaving its way into her lips. It seemed as if her talents weren’t forgotten, at the very least. “I’ll be sure to surprise you even more after I win the Matrimortem.”

Marcus nodded, putting a hand over her father’s shoulders. “Well then, although she may not have our ability, Cassian, she may as well possess our strategies and tactics,” he gave a wry smile. “Let’s see if you taught her enough to soar even higher.”

“May the devil be within us.” Cassian chose to ignore his words, and Ira looked away, knowing the subtlety of the General’s insult. 

“And may it always be.” Marcus and Ira repeated in unison before the General waved his goodbyes and sat at the row in front of them. As he sat, the wooden table to his right gleamed bright red before conjuring up a shot glass, filled with mortal vodka. Ira couldn’t help but wrinkle her nose before looking around at the already filling seats. The Stadium was divided into seven areas for the seven sects, and all of them couldn’t be farther from each other. 

At the far right sat the Rumiae, the pride faeries. All of them were dressed in the best fabrics that their sect could offer, colored with white and gold. It wasn’t hard to spot a Rumiae, with their puffed-up chests and condescending gazes. The medals and chalices that decked the elders’ belts and wrists weren’t helping them blend in. Though they weren’t the most talkative bunch, they would always go to lengths to exemplify that they were the better sect. 

The Ditas sat beside them. Like the Rumiae, they have worn one of the most exquisite jewelry that they could find, showing the excessive amounts of precious stones that decorated their diamond plated seats. It was the Ditas who preferred to wander Earth’s grounds more than their own, dressed as foreign billionaires, enjoying what the devil’s playground had to offer. That was the reason why most of the seats were currently vacant. They were humane at most, but everyone knew where the phrase ‘deal with the devil’ originated. 

The Aulisae were at the center, Ira observed. Given their position, they were the ones who opted out from participating in the Vestimortis (given the need for pairs). Though some were thin and muscled, others completely embraced their sins by eating too much and getting larger by the day. They sat with banners of dark swirls of purple and with small runes drawn around the corner of their seats, glowing dangerously to any faerie who’d near them. They may not be equipped in the battlefield, but they were brilliant in rune making–their runes being the ones that protected and ensured the safety of their realm. 

The Poribus were at the far left. In the past few Matrimortem, the sect still hasn’t produced any victors. However, she was warned never to underestimate them, especially this batch of Initiae. They were all hungry to compete; all determined to prove the other sects wrong. She tilted her head, observing how they clung close to their arrows and throwing spears–the Poribus sect was always known for their preference for long-distance weaponry. For her sect, having those kinds of weapons was scoffed at–it was a coward’s choice, as what was taught to them from the start. 

“Pay attention.” Her father snapped, as the lights went out, signaling that it was a few minutes more till the ceremony would begin. ‘Pay attention,’ he said. Ira rolled her eyes as she spotted him eyeing the Limari sect, all dancing in lewd clothing to celebrate the ceremony. It was they who have embraced the entire culture of their sin, embodying the lust that was sewed into their bloodline. Ira roguishly grinned when she saw a shirtless Limare winked in her direction invitingly, clenching his biceps. Her eyes traveled downwards, smirking. Then again, she wasn’t complaining

Sitting right beside them were the Vidias. They were silent like they always were–eyes glowing in pale, sickly green, far from the dark rich forests that grow in the mortals’ world. They were the calmest of them all as they sat, sharpening their knives and daggers as they waited for the Vestimortis to begin.

Soon, a bright light shone at the podium. Everyone immediately stood up, jeering as a woman appeared. An Aulis, she noticed, seeing the dark purple runes drawn on her wings. “A happy moonlight to all!”