Page 63 of Gladiator Moon

“The roofs will collapse upon them. Dozens and dozens of floors. Some will fall hundreds of feet to their deaths.”

“I think the arena and the palace and the dungeons will remain standing once you’re gone,” I say. “I think that over time, most of this place has become real enough to exist without you.”

“Then why are the walls closing in on you, Samantha Moon?”

He is right, of course.

The walls before me and behind me are moving inward. So are the walls on either side. Worse, the floor is rising and the is ceiling descending. The entire chamber is rapidly contracting around me. No matter. The beating black heart is still above me; in fact, the shrinking chamber is pushing it closer to me, as if handing it over to me. I need only to point my sword at it and fly.

I do that now, knowing it is going to be a race to reach the heart before the walls, floor, and ceiling crush me. Then again, I doubt he would crush his own heart. I’m not even sure he could. Maybe the shrinking chamber is just an illusion, one last desperate attempt to frighten me away. Either way, here I go.

Up, up, up.

No more shrieking bat-demons. No more tentacles or giant hands or any of the other nightmares he has thrown at me. I think I have finally outlasted his defenses. The shrinking chamber is the last of the gauntlet, and here it comes. The walls closing in. The ceiling bearing down. The floor rising beneath me. And there goes my sword, aimed directly at the throbbing black sphere hovering just above me.

Chapter Thirty

The walls and floors stop closing in. “Wait, Samantha! Please! I’m not ready to die.”

I pause, turning to face him down below. “No one is ready to die.”

“Maybe I am making a big mistake.”

“Maybe,” I say. “But think about it. No more drinking blood. No more controlling everything. No more uprisings. No more silly wizards. No more immature royals. No more kidnappings, death, or destruction.”

“But I like most of those things.”

“But you could be done with all of it. You could finally rest within the Creator.”

“But what will that look like?”

“No one knows. Those who go to the Creator are gone forever.”

“Forever?”

“It is understood to be so. I suppose there is a chance you might be reincarnated into another form. After all, you have served your role admirably for many millennia. You might be useful in another form.”

“As a god?”

“Don’t know. No one can know.”

“I don’t want to disappear forever, Sam. I have some good memories.”

“I know. I saw them in your weird sphere.”

“I think I am ready, but you will have to fight me, Samantha Moon. It is not within my nature to lay down and die.”

“I will fight you and you alone,” I say. “No more giant hands, tentacles, or demon-bats.”

“Geez, way to take all the fun out of it, but okay.”

“Then let’s tango.”

Immediately, the Dark One springs from the floor and rockets up to me, wielding a sword the size of an Oldsmobile fender.

“Sweet mama.”

I parry the shiny blade as the force of it sends me flying through the empty space of the chamber. I flap my wings and come to a relative halt, though my inertia has me slewing sideways. The Dark One chuckles and races across the chamber, chasing me down.