At one point, the sewer widened and divided into paths, much like the intersection of a road. It was impossible to tell exactly where I was. I didn’t know the lines or the outlets to the surface. But I was somewhere beneath Rome and with so many paths, it was probably a busy area. I recalled a large exit opened into the hypogeum, but Felix would be there waiting to hand me over to the emperor. Not exactly the ideal solution to my problems.

I turned right, or left, or right again. I walked in any direction I thought the soldiers wouldn’t. If it was dark, or small, or smelled particularly bad, that was my choice. I ran so far and so fast that when I finally stopped to listen, I heard absolutely nothing. I saw even less. I had lost them.

But in doing so, I had also lost my way out. I had become a rat in a never-ending maze without food or light or anywhere to rest. I couldn’t survive in here, and I’d never be allowed to live if I tried returning to the surface.

I stumbled on something that squeaked back, and tried not to think about how big it had been. Then, in regaining my footing, I felt the bulla bounce against my waist. It was as heavy as ever, but also cold and lifeless. It had brought so much bad into my life. I couldn’t see how anything might get better if I continued to wear it, and yet, I couldn’t bring myself to throw it down either. Whether keeping the bulla was a sign of strength or weakness, I didn’t know, but I brushed my hand over it and continued on.

I stumbled again, but this time fell to the sewer floor, completely indifferent to how it smelled and without a thought for the filth that surrounded me. Then I removed my hand from my arm and nearly blacked out when my wet fingers dripped into the wound. The pain was beyond anything I’d ever before experienced.

The only reason I didn’t scream was that I was too frightened and exhausted to make so much noise. Tears came to my eyes, but not from the pain. The harder I tried to make things better, the worse they got. Only days ago, I was a slave in the mines, a hopeless situation, but at least it was a life I knew.

“Nicolas, you are the head of our family now.” After she was sold away from us, my mother had cried those words as she was being led away in chains. “I’m relying on you to protect your sister.”

“I will,” I had promised her through my tears. “Always.”

“Stay together. Because I will see you again,” she’d said. “If the gods are willing.”

And then she was gone.

Whatever my fate, I had absolutely failed my family.

And that was the worst thought of all.

With little hope, and even less of an idea of what direction to go, I finally forced myself to my feet. Maybe the gods would seal me in here forever and laugh at my failures. But until they did, I had no choice but to continue searching for a way out.

The bleeding in my arm eventually stopped, though the pain erupted every time I stumbled off the narrow pathway and fell into the sewage. My eyes had adjusted a little, but then I’d spot a grate overhead where the sunlight poured in and the darkness beyond it would turn black again.

It had been two full days since I became lost in here and nighttime was approaching again. Except for one grate that had poured in clean water, I hadn’t had anything to drink, and nothing at all to eat. Despite that, and the endless ache in my arm, the worst pain came with the realization of how stupid I’d been. Unforgivably foolish.

Sal had been right. From the moment of my birth, I was cursed. Born in poverty to a father who lost a half-second battle with a lightning bolt, and a mother who gave up hope for us too soon. The bulla — a mistake of my own doing — was a second curse. Caela had abandoned me. Radulf knew I was alive and held the bulla. And the empire had turned on me, just as Aurelia had predicted.

Aurelia. Something flashed in my memory from our last fight. Hadn’t she said that she lived below ground? I had always pictured her in some sort of mine, but there were no mines in Rome. This was what she had meant. Aurelia had to be here somewhere, in the sewers. We hadn’t exactly parted on good terms, but she might be my only chance of survival.

I wandered on farther, trying to convince myself that she was down here and probably knew this maze well enough to walk through it blindfolded. If she used the sewers, then she knew the ways in, and the ways out. She would have food, and perhaps a solution for the growing pain in my injured arm. Whether she would share any of that with me, however, was a question I preferred not to think about.

Despite my hopes, as day faded to night, the sewer walls all became the same again. I didn’t dare call her name for fear of someone above hearing me and reporting where I had escaped. It was probably useless anyway. If only I knew where I was. I had gone for miles in infinite loops, likely repeating the same senseless steps that I’d crossed a dozen times already. My injured arm throbbed, and the hunger that had gnawed at me was now becoming a warning of how serious the situation was if I didn’t find food and clean water soon.

Eventually, I was forced to rest on the narrow walkway, every part of me feeling shredded apart. I leaned against the brick wall, which was covered in a slimy moss that could only have grown from the underworld. I reached for the bulla, hoping to draw in some of its warmth, but it had slid around to my back, and I didn’t have the strength to retrieve it.

I must’ve fallen asleep that way, and sometime later awoke to a fierce ache in the mark on my shoulder. It froze me in place at first, as I struggled to move my arms and unclench my teeth. In my sleep, I had rolled onto the bulla, which was now sucking strength from the Divine Star into itself. But it was doing more than pulling out my strength. Magic was going with it.

Finally, I was able to shift enough to move the bulla. The ache immediately stopped, though it was several minutes before I was breathing evenly again. Oddly, the bulla then began to replenish my strength, returning to me what it had just stolen.

As I lay there, I began to wonder how Radulf stole magic from others with the Divine Star. He had no bulla, but the effects Crispus had described to me seemed similar to what I’d just experienced. With pain like that, hopefully I never would again.

Once my strength returned, I began to walk again, weighing the few things I already knew about Radulf, and what I understood about magic. There had to be a way to save my life. Once I escaped these sewers, I would find it.

I crossed to a grate overhead, one of hundreds I had seen over the last few days, but every one of them was sealed, or too far above my head to reach, or too small. This one wasn’t much better, but at least it seemed to be in a quiet part of the city and I had a way to climb up to it. All I needed was a way to make the opening larger. Perhaps with the bulla’s help, I could collapse the rock around it.

That was where I stopped. The memory of what I’d done in the amphitheater was still raw. When he fell, the bestiarius would’ve been seriously injured, or maybe worse, though I hated to think about that. Clearly I had drawn upon the magic in the bulla, somehow. I still wasn’t sure if the magic was good or bad, which meant I could no longer be sure whether I was good or bad. But it saved my life before, and I needed it again.

So I raised my hand and tried to summon enough strength to push the grate out of its place. All I needed was to spread the rock farther apart or for a couple of rocks to fall. With the right tools back at the mine, I could’ve done this in an hour, but here, I felt ridiculous attempting it by only willing it to happen.