Those in black visibly stiffen as a small corridor bursts open to the left. Just off from a comfortable black throne, layered with a more velvet approach and curving under the leather arms and body.

Demetri's back straightens as well, his distance between me growing ever so slightly when a large dark figure saunters in. Dark shadows wisp beneath the cloak, concealing a solid mass in black attire. Broad, tense shoulders slouch to the naked eye, though it would seem something more prudent is happening beneath the empty frame.

A personality practically exudes from the wraith though. His swagger grows exponentially bigger when he notices the women in his presence though. Without seeing eyes, a weight still comes from his gaze, landing on me and then towards a blonde on the floor.

"Once upon a time, I thought about making such fine specimens as women unable to compete in such a contest," a lulled voice scrapes over every surface as if it were coming from everywhere and nowhere all at once. A gentle gust comes with the words, sending shivers down my spine and outwards from my waist. It wraps me in a cold sweat.

One wrong move and it would seem anyone could be dead.

The hood looks from side to side, analyzing a solid nine contestants. "Where is Jeffrey?"

A reaper to the left snickers and Death snarls in warning. The sound immediately silences.

As if summoned, a scrawny blonde in equally black attire bursts through the same grand entrance I was guided into. He's panting and uneasy as he falls onto hands and knees before the throne.

Death has yet to sit, seemingly angry about it. Halfway into lowering his towering figure, he freezes. Holding the awkward position for a moment, Death threateningly lifts his weight upright again and allows a dry, fake laugh. "No, no, don't start without me, Lord Death. We were just about to begin, before you dragged your suffering carcass in here, Jeffrey. But please, do carry on with your exhausting ritual of tireless panting and overused excuses."

Death pauses before snarling. "I'll wait."

"The goblins, Sir, I-"

"Bored!" A gloved hand snaps. So does Jeffrey's neck. "So, nine contestants this year then."

Not a whisper passes in this tangible silence until a muffled sob starts up again. Death doesn't even share a glance in the direction, apparently used to the blubbering and less than interested. He does another count, looking over each colorful person in the room. One, two, three... The murmurs stop when he reaches the crying man scratching at his neck.

"Where did you get this one, Atticus? He's mental."

A reaper, no more handsome than any other man and somehow infinitely more alluring. Fascinating. Atticus bears no weapons, saying more than enough about his capabilities and specialties. Only a black shirt and jeans, gothic energy covering him.

He drops emotionless eyes to his charge and then continues holding contact with Death. "His delusions will leave with the crystal, My Lord. A simple case of trauma."

"Trauma?" I mutter. "He looks psychotic."

Demetri pales, my mouth earning the attention of the two immortals stationed in front of and beside me.

I can imagine the smirk in vivid detail, Death inclining his head towards Demetri. "Found yourself one with a mouth, did you? The independent thinkers are my favorite."

The last words echo warmly, somewhere between a purr and intrigue.

Demetri's slack facade returns, the playful glean shining over the hardened eyes. "Beats the scum I'm used to, but as you know with my methods, I don't particularly get a say in who my charge is."

"Indeed," the wraith nods. "Perhaps this year you'll find a winner."

With a low sweep of his hand, light is stolen from the room and flames are doused. No one is visible, let alone inches in front of my face. With my senses alone, I feel my arm graze Demetri's slightly when I sidestep from shock. He doesn't so much as move.

Wind brushes past my ankles, more shadowy wisps flexing when they interact with my skin. They slip past towards the center of the room and pool together in a gauntlet of sorts, revealing ten crystals. A hand plucks one from the bundle and the room illuminates in a heated glow.

Death tosses the crystal into the air above us, giving just enough light to make out the silhouettes of one another and then spreading the others out in a row of nine. Each shimmers an opaque, colorless flame.

"Alright, now that the nuances are out of the way," he says. "Each of you lucky souls has been selected to right the wrongs of your past and continue forth anew. Though of course, it is not that simple. You will be competing against your fellow humans in four grueling tasks. Each must be completed in a specific way. There are very few rules, you may kill one another but it will not win you favor or enhance your position in the competition. Do as you please, but do clean up after yourselves, I hate a mess," Death takes a pause to consider something. "If you cheat, I'll know. I always know. Not to mention taking credit for another's feats, I don't know why but I'm in a rather odd mood for sportsmanship. Subject to change, likely."

Silence follows for a moment before a meek voice breaks through the air. The blonde woman. "What can we possibly do?"

"I see we have a Debby Downer, such a shame. You, my dear, can start by developing a better attitude or we might run into some problems."

Her swallow is audible.

The ground begins to rumble and I know she thinks in those moments that her end is coming. Instead, two chandeliers drop from the ceiling, tables rise in height, and Death's throne vanishes into the ground behind him. The crystals lift off from the ground without assistance and scatter around the room at different heights and varying levels of difficulty.

Though, that would only be accessibility wise, considering the easier the gem the more likely everyone is to funnel for it.

The sobbing man has quieted down to a soft humming. Each whimper grinds even my nerves. After the shock had worn off I'd have imagined he'd grow a set. I'm wrong. In fact, the fear consuming him seems to tumble downward like an avalanche. Shivers rack his lean frame, surely making standing hard and concentration impossible.

"First task. Get a crystal."

No one moves and he scoffs.

"Get a crystal. Any crystal, but only one. If anyone dies, theirs are forfeit to me and my purposes alone."

Still, everyone stays frozen in place.

Before Death has a chance to scare the shit out of anyone, I turn my back to the gathering and take a few steps forward. A ring of fire lights up around the arena and provides just enough sight to gather surroundings from a distance.

A low shimmer sparks across the air in specific places. Beneath a glamour or illusion is something waiting.

I aim to scale the large center table, climbing onto the top of a chair and gripping the edge when a hand latches onto my ankle. Yanking at me, I look back and see the blonde woman. Her sense of determination astounds me where it wasn't before, grip and force getting more forceful by the moment.

Using her own strength against her, I kick backward and land a shot to her nose. Without a backbone or any core muscles, she falls on her butt.

I haul myself up on my stomach and kick off the chair for a final boost. Clearly the first step to any crystal, I note that no matter what, to get the height needed you'd need this table. This is soon to become a battleground as a few others stumble like mindless zombies toward me.

Ledges shift from the wall and offer a way to the chandeliers. My instincts scream about it being an obvious trap but another boy thinks differently. Starting from the ground and working to get a good hold, the blocks begin shifting again as if they were on a timer.

The faster he climbs, the higher he gets only to slip and fall.

His groan can be heard throughout the entire room.

Demetri's eyes show with their own glow, the gold irises flickering around to observe the other contestants before lingering on me. I represent him and so do my actions, the look seems to say.

The knowing doesn't exhilarate me or spur my limbs into action.

No, Demetri didn't motivate me at all.

It was the low purr of a laugh Death allows when a knife aims for my throat.

And the promise of a better tomorrow.

Hey Everyone!

Hope you're enjoying the story so far. I know this is a little shorter than the last but the next part is too long to keep them connected. Otherwise, thank you all for reading and I hope you're looking forward to the next update because I am. This prompt is really fantastic.

Love you guys! Don't forget to vote and comment if you enjoyed and have an awesome day!

Current Word Count: 3590