I spent every waking moment waiting for opportunity to come.

The Hag Dancer's words lit a fire inside me, and that fire grew with my anticipation. Every time I entered the pit for a fight, there was a moment when I looked around and thought:

This is not my destiny. This is only a chapter.

What I never expected was for opportunity to be heralded by chaos and destruction. My escape would not be done quietly, or by my own making. 

It began with a warning from Myranda as she was preparing me for a fight. 

"Someone special is in the audience."

"The Hag Dancer?"

She laughed and hit the back of my head playfully. 

"He's a powerful human king, and a personal guest of the Authority. You're expected to put on a good show for him. There's been rumors you'll be matched with someone especially brutal."

"You haven't heard who I'll be fighting?"

"Have I ever before? If I had to wager gold, I'd put it on Srax, the Great One."

As he had a thousand times, the gangly introduced me to a roaring crowd. I scanned the audience to see if I could spy the king but only saw the usual blur of faces.

He's probably in the Authority's viewing box, I thought.

At Myranda's insistence that I put on the best show possible, I waited until my introduction to transform. The audience hummed their approval, still pleased to witness it, and when the wolf appeared it released a howl to delight its admirers. A shower of bones and trinkets was thrown into the pit.

Then the gangly man spoke the name of my opponent. Myranda's wager would have been a winning one. It took a dozen crow men to pull Srax into the pit, and with a snap of her teeth the enormous serpent made quick work of the chains around her body.

I'd seen her fight only once before, on the night of my first battle. Confidence surged through the wolf, but I was terrified. It might have been the champion, but compared to a giant that could spit fire the wolf looked like a snack. 

This wasn't a fight. It was an execution.

Maybe the Authority had grown bored and thought it was my time to die. Give the king a fight where the champion falls. That would certainly be something to remember.

The sand trembled as Srax moved across the pit. The wolf began to pace, convinced in its arrogance that it would make easy work of its opponent.

"Champion," I heard Myranda shout, "the Authority wouldn't match you against something you can't kill! Remember that!"

Her eyes betrayed her confident words. She wanted the wolf to feel proud so it would give a good show before its end.

Doom gathered like storm clouds in my head.

I was supposed to escape, I thought. The Hag Dancer said I would.

All it would take is for Srax to corner her opponent and spew fire. Unlike the horses I'd watched her kill, the wolf had no wings to fly away. The moment the horns gave their shout, flames would erupt from the beast's throat and—

A shrill note cut through the air, signaling the start of the fight.

Srax opened her mouth and spoke in a language I could not understand, then bent her neck and thrust her face in the wolf's direction, covering a great distance at alarming speed. Her jaws opened to catch her prey. At the last second the wolf moved from the path of her teeth, leaping high into the air. Four paws landed on the serpent's head and dug their claws in deep.

Perhaps the animal had more good sense than I gave it credit for.

With a roar, Srax threw her head back, and all the wolf could do was struggle to hold on to the scales beneath it. The serpent tossed to and fro, trying to shake her attacker loose. The wolf's vision grew dizzy as a large, hooked claw rushed through the air with an audible whoosh.

On the third attempt, the claw found the wolf's shoulder, and tried to lift the animal into the air. The wolf would not be easily removed, even as a sharp point sank into its skin.

Jump away! I told it. She'll tear your limb off!

The wolf refused to listen, and turned its head to snap at the finger that held it. Srax grew impatient, and for a moment I believed she would throw herself on her back and crush her opponent. Instead, she withdrew her claw and returned to trying to shake the wolf loose, but the animal was resourceful and quickly adjusted to the feeling of moving through the air. It focused its vision and began to tear at the scales with its fangs.

It proved little use, however, for the serpent's plating was as hard as armor.

Try the throat, I suggested.

Surprisingly, the wolf listened. Using its claws to anchor it, and pausing several times as it went, the wolf climbed down the back of the beast. A long talon scratched at it, but could not reach the animal as it moved. The serpent twisted her neck to snap with her teeth, but her opponent managed to evade each attack at the last second. 

At great risk, the wolf jumped onto one of Srax's wings and used its weight to rip through the thin leather as it descended. When it arrived at the spot below Srax's jaw, it threw itself upon the serpent's front body, landing near a patch of brightly-colored skin uncovered by scales. The flesh was softer there, and yielded without resistance to teeth and claw. Srax turned her head forward. 

Time was precious. Every movement had to be precise and swift.

The wolf caught a foothold with its claws and began to tear into the tender spot with its teeth. 

Hot wind blanketed the wolf's fur and Srax's belly jerked and shuddered. Her mouth opened and the wolf looked up to see a tunnel of pink and black, and a soft glow rising from deep within.

Would the serpent breathe fire on herself to end her opponent? Was her body capable of withstanding it?

I was certain it was.

It would be a race to cut the fire off before it could be projected.

Waves of blood, black as the crow men's feathers, sprayed across the wolf's vision but it did not cease its attack. Warmth spread beneath its paws as fire heated the serpent's belly.

I wondered if the Authority would reward Srax with a box of my ashes. 

The taste of flesh hit the wolf's mouth, and a bitter pungency filled its nostrils, tinged with a subtle scent of smoke.

Was it possible that the wolf could win? 

I would never know.

There was a scream, which I first mistook as noise from the serpent.

But the sound was too shrill, not at all like Srax's deep, hissing reverberations. The Great One stilled and her belly cooled. A rush of cold wind hit me as the serpent turned her head to the crowd of onlookers.

Fear was spreading through the room, and I realized it was not focused toward the inside of the pit, but outside of it. No one was paying attention to the fight, for pandemonium had erupted in the audience.

Stop, I urged the wolf. Something is happening.

Begrudgingly, the animal ceased and lifted its blood-soaked head.

An ocean of bodies moved frantically in the pews, some attempting to flee, others pawing and screaming at each other for reassurance. Tent flaps moved in and out as a symphony of frightened wailing began its song. Sounds of pain joined the fear. Groans and cries of beings in distress.

The wolf leapt to the ground and shot a confused glance at its opponent. Srax's attention was on the crowd, her giant eyes darting back and forth over the mayhem, trying to discern its cause.

The wolf looked to the edge of the pit for Myranda's guidance, but the caretaker was not there.

It looked to the Authority's private room. The window was dark.

The gangly man was nowhere to be found.

The wolf was uneased, and allowed me control over our shared body. I ventured to the edge of the pit to get a closer look at the audience—

A body tumbled down several pews and landed with a horrible crash at the bottom of the arena seats. It was a young man with the face of a bat, bleeding heavily from his head. Someone had followed him as he descended, an armored knight whose face was obscured by a golden helm. The knight raised a sword. The creature begged for mercy to no avail, and was driven through before the knight turned to plunge their weapon into the next victim. 

Now I saw them, dozens of knights in uniform armor spread throughout the crowd.

Methodically killing everyone in sight.

The world had turned upside down, and the pit became witness to the carnage in the audience.

I felt a sliver of morbid satisfaction—Let them learn what it feels like—until I saw a child fall under a knight's blade. I tested the invisible barrier around the pit with a paw and found it was not in place.

An ominous sign, but there was no time to waste time wondering at it.

I jumped into the pews and heard shrieks from the normally praising viewers, who were afraid of suddenly being within reach of their champion. I saw their faces up close for the first time and realized that none of them were human.

There was a flash of black as dozens of crow men arrived to fight the attackers. Feathers and blood flew through the air.

Now that I was out of the pit, what would I do?

I cast another glance at the Authority's suspended room.

Would I be able to reach it—or should I use this distraction to flee?

This is my opportunity. It's time to leave.

No.

The voice inside me had a task to accomplish, and though I urged it to escape, the wolf would not be moved until it was completed. It moved swiftly, dodging clutching hands and bodies, until it reached the cloth wall of the tent. There, just as it did with the serpent's wing, the wolf began to climb.

Why do you care about the Authority? I asked the wolf.

It didn't answer and kept moving toward the ceiling.

Claws touched the wooden box, and with a groan and final push of strength, the wolf reached the window to the Authority's room. There was no glass covering it, and just enough space to squeeze through. The wolf tumbled onto a floor covered in straw. There were no torches inside, but the light from the pit spilled through the window, giving a dim view of an eerie scene within.

The identical bodies of a dozen gangly men littered the room, some seated and slumped over, some laying on the ground, some contorted into impossible poses. They appeared to have no bones, and their skin hung grotesquely loose. I approached one that was sitting, and when I pulled his head back I saw with horrified disgust that he had no eyes. Spilling from every hole in his head—his mouth, his nostrils, his ears—were feathers.

"What are you?" I asked.

The scarecrow did not move.

A hand touched the wolf's back and it jumped with a yelp. It spun around to find Myranda staring with wide, wild eyes.

"Why are you here?" she demanded, her voice painted with dread. "The Authority will turn you into feeder!"

"Do you not see what's going on?!" I shouted through the wolf's mouth. "The circus is falling!"

Myranda shook her head, unable to believe it.

"It's all gone wrong," she whispered, "they betrayed us!"

With a snarl, I shrugged her hand loose.

"Don't leave," she begged. "You'll be killed!"

"Let them try."

A booming voice cut through the commotion outside.

"ENOUGH!"

It took several moments for the din of the audience to quiet. A foreboding silence fell over the room. Myranda and I turned our heads to the window.

Cautiously, we peered down into the pit.

Srax was still there, surrounded by knights with their swords pointed toward her belly. The serpent might have ended them with one fiery breath, but she remained motionless and visibly distressed. In the center where the gangly man normally made his announcements was a knight more elegantly armored than the others. A long white cloak trailed from the back of his breastplate, and sprouting from his ornate helm was a shock of red plumage.

This had to be the leader of the knights, or—

"The king," I whispered.

He removed his helm, revealing the bearded face of a middle-aged human man. His boots crunched over the sand as he walked the pit and scowled at the audience. Those still alive were held captive at the end of a knight's sword. When the king spoke, the pit amplified his voice so everyone would hear him. 

"You are all creatures of sin," he declared, "and you are trespassing on my land. You are guilty of fouling my kingdom with your wretched violence. Guilty of housing monsters. Guilty of being monsters yourselves."

He withdrew a heavy longsword and plunged it into the sand.

"You are unfit to live in my world, so you must be cleansed from it."

At that, the knights resumed their slaughtering.

"They'll kill us," Myranda whimpered, only now believing the danger that surrounded us. "You must fight them. You must!"

"I will do as I wish," I replied, "and I wish to leave this foul place."

As I searched for an exit Myranda began to weep.

"You have to save the circus!" she screamed. "You are the champion!"

"Beg your precious Authority to save you," I snapped back.

I held no love for my caretaker. Though she had been somewhat affable during my time at the circus, she was never a real friend. She was a jailor, and right now she was distracting me from freedom.

I found a handle and lifted my paw to pull it down.

Outside the door was a wooden staircase that descended into darkness. I did not fear what might be at the bottom, for nothing could be worse than what waited in the pit. The stairs ended at a tent flap, but blocking the way out were three crow men fighting a knight. The knight slew two foes before the final bird caught and lifted him by his arms. It plunged its beak into the golden helm, slipping through the metal as easily as paper, and a gush of red bubbled up around the sharp bill.

The crow man threw the knight to the ground before turning its glowing orange eyes to me.

"Champion," it hissed, and I was startled by the sound of its voice, for I didn't know the crow men could speak.

I wasted no time conversing, but took it to the floor with ease. As its body stilled, the tent around me began to tremble. The cloth walls moved in dangerous swaying, and I heard the crack of wooden beams.

The king had won.

The circus was falling.