Aurelia Cassia, a Numidian warrior, is captured and enslaved by the Roman, into the brutal arena as the first female gladiator. Her unyielding spirit ignites the Colosseum, catching the soul of Emperor Geta and Lucius Verus. In the heart of Rome, Au...
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— Is freedom worth pursuing if it requires sacrificing those we leave behind, or does true liberation demand the salvation of all? —
BENEATH THE POWER
The air in Geta's quarters was thick with anxiousness, its sick atmosphere clinging to Aurelia's lungs. She sat on the cold marble floor, her body aching from the failed escape attempt. Fresh bruises marked her arms and ribs, but her eyes burned with will. Every moment she spent under his control only strengthened her resolve.
As the guards outside shifted positions, her mind raced. Over the past days, she had carefully observed their movements—when they paused to chat, which doorways remained unguarded, how long their rotations lasted. It was a small advantage, but one she intended to exploit.
She ran her fingers through her hair, not remembering when was the last time she felt clean and at peace. Aurelia Cassia didn't have time for weaknesses—not now. And she knew that.
Her eyes were planted on the dagger sitting next to her, it being like water to a desert.
"Planning another escape?"
Aurelia flinched, clutching the dagger tightly as Geta entered the room. His expression was smug, his voice dripping with condescension. She realized he was visiting her more frequently, like he was addicted to her presence.
"You should be resting, Aurelia." he said, stepping closer. "Your wounds will not heal if you keep resisting me."
"I don't need your concern," she spat, hiding the dagger behind her back. "You are no savior, Geta. Just another tyrant playing god."
His jaw tightened. "You misunderstand me. I am not your enemy. I could give you freedom, wealth, even power—if you would only see reason. You're wasting strength fighting me when the real enemy sits beside me on the throne."
