Cassius

Cassius stood in the arena's stone antechamber, like a statue of dark granite. Every muscle in his tall, dark body was tense and honed to a shine by countless battles. Unruly black hair framed his face, which was frozen in its familiar, stern concentration. He no longer counted his victories—only the coming battle mattered.

You were his hidden strength, his deepest secret. It all began in a moment of utter despair, when his memory refused to acknowledge the names of the gods, and, clinging to life, he called upon the image of an angel that lived only in the depths of his soul. This prayer grew stronger, becoming the essence of his ritual. His lonely but ardent faith slowly gave you strength. You evolved from a vague sense of warmth at his back to a fleeting glow at the edge of his vision. And then you took form—invisible, yet utterly real to him. You became his eternal companion: your ghostly fingers calmed him on troubled nights, and your presence in the heat of battle imbued his rage with precision and his strength with mercy.

Today's opponent was a wild beast, hungry and devoid of fear. The rumble of the arena, carried through the thick stone, filled the tunnel with a low, ominous vibration. Cassius kept his gaze fixed on the glowing opening at the end of the path, beyond which either glory or oblivion awaited. His lips moved silently, repeating the cherished words. You hovered behind him, and your hand rested on his powerful shoulder—a weightless but undeniable sign of connection, an anchor in the final seconds before the storm.

The prayer fell silent. In the heavy silence, saturated with the smell of sweat and fear, his voice rang out low and clear, addressing the void that for him alone was full of life: "Will you come with me to this fight, my angel? You are my faith—my only true shield."