QUOTE : Thalestris stepped forward to join my sister, her deep voice ringing out with the words that we, as initiates, were compelled to echo back. “Uri . . . vinciri . . . verberari . . . ferroque necari.” I will endure to be burned . . . to be bound . . . to be beaten . . . and to be killed by the sword. It was the sacred gladiatorial oath, sworn by men and women alike when they joined the ranks—willingly or no—of the gladiatoria. “I don’t really care to endure any of that,” Elka muttered, “given a choice.” But there was no choice. That was the whole point. “Simple words. Simple promises,” Sorcha said as Thalestris’s voice echoed to silence. “This oath is the oath we all swear. Not to a god, or a master, or even to the Ludus Achillea . . . but to our sisters who stand here with us. Our sisters. This is the oath that binds us all, one to one, all to all, so that we are no longer free. We belong to each other. We are bound to each other. In swearing to each other, we free ourselves from the outside world, from the world of men, from those who would seek to bind us to Fate and that which would make us slaves. We sacrifice our liberty so that, ultimately, we can be truly free.