Radagan cursed and stepped forward. It was his turn! His turn for it!

“You can do it, Margor!!!” shouted a supporter from the safety of the faceless crowd. A hundred thousand other voices took up the chant as though casting a group spell. The roar rippled through the arena until it became a tidal wave of sound. Nobody had heard of tidal waves so no one present would compare it to such a thing, but the narrator had, and the narrator would.

That’s not even my name. I hate that name! thought Radagan to himself. He hated those thoughts. They confused him. But they were thoughts he thought and he must learn to love ALL parts of himself.

The great Stadium was known for two things: its size and its sound. Citizens of B’lavery would travel hundreds and hundreds of miles once a year for the Annual Event held at the Stadium. It was just a festive thing and everyone loved it. King Gramamer was known for nothing and he aimed to change that, so he started the Annual Event. This was the second Annual Event. Last year’s was a success so here comes Year 2!

Radagan sighed. This is MY story, he shrieked to himself. However he also shrieked it to the crowd. “This is MY story!!!” Nobody heard him because they were all chanting a name that was not his own but chanting FOR HIM. It made no sense. Just no sense! His whole life did not flash before his eyes. This was a waking dream.

He’d had those before. Waking dreams. They were okay but not always. They involved losing control of himself in some insane fashion. He shook himself out of his head. This happened ALL THE TIME. Time to focus now. It was pERfOrmANcE TimE!

The sun blasted down and so did the hot wind that screamed from the pits at the other end of the Stadium. What would come out of those? Nobody knew. Not even the people who knew, that’s how secret it was. The light was in his eyes so Radagan had to shield them with his shield. He hated his shield. He hated a lot of things in fact, it was just a default state he inhabited.

Everything was turning weird. He flashed back to five seconds ago when one of the guards had given him a drink. What was in that drink? He thought it was water but his thoughts were now of a different color… a terrifying color. One of those colors that doesn’t exist.

“Now we see what we’re made of,” muttered Radagan, hefting the spear that appeared in his hand without warning. It was a good spear. He should know, he fashioned it himself twenty-some-odd-or-so years ago. The fact that it reappeared now was… concerning.

The gates opened and the pits opened and THE CROWD’S MOUTHS OPENED. This was one of the worst things ever written but it would have to do. It would simply have to do. It'll have to do, echoed Radagan. He was fine with this. It was a relief. He would redeem himself later but for now he would charge across the Stadium, changing tenses as fast as possible.

TO BE CONTINUED