Oana continued overseeing the carving of the altar in the arena, which had been progressing well. Much of the outline of the altar had been carved into the wall, with only a little bit of the rough work left. Detail work would follow, and that would take nearly as long, but it would still be useful for fulfilling its pious purpose even in rough form. It provided a space to pray before and praise the almighty, which she believed even those trapped in this horrible place ought to do.
Oana herself even felt the compulsion to praise God as she observed how excellently the work was progressing, and she took the opportunity to lower herself to her knees and pray.
While kneeling, she heard behind her the sound of many feet approaching in unison behind her. Oana turned around and saw Dragomir standing at the center of his entourage. Without a word of explanation, he grabbed Oana’s wrist and pulled her towards him. He dipped a bit of fabric into an inkwell and drew an X on the back of her hand with the ink. He grabbed her other hand and drew an X on that one too.
“I gave you many warnings,” Dragomir said, “Don’t pretend you didn’t know this was coming.” He pushed her to the ground and walked away with his entourage.