13. Ellie

The cold metallic walls of our prison cell seemed to reflect my inner turmoil.

With Ceara by my side, I should have been elated.

We were together again, two souls reunited against all odds.

Yet, a gnawing weight sat heavy in my chest.

The secret deal I had made with the Supervisor, a decision made in the heat of desperation, now haunted my every waking moment.

Every morning since my return, I'd wake up, feeling the smooth, coarse fabric of the prison bedding against my skin, and the steady rhythm of Ceara's heart next to mine.

The faint, musty smell of the prison air filled my nostrils.

He was my anchor, pulling me out from the depths of regret and uncertainty, even if he didn't know the reason behind them.

This morning, as he was led away for another one of those grueling sessions with the machine, I wanted to scream.

I wanted to tell him everything, about the deal, about my desperation to save him.

But fear — of his disappointment, of shattering the fragile bond we had — kept me silent.

Left alone, the monotony of the cell seemed even more oppressive.

My thoughts were interrupted when the door slid open, and a tray of food was pushed inside.

Glancing up, I saw a guard looking down at me, a flicker of something — pity? — in his eyes.

"We've been instructed to give you the best," he muttered, nodding at the tray.

Curiously, I approached the tray.

The vibrant colors and mouthwatering aroma hit me immediately.

Delicacies from across the galaxy were spread before me; there were azure fruits from Jeliona that burst with flavor in your mouth, a steaming bowl of spicy Terakian stew, and a piece of Velon cake, its soft, sweetness promising a momentary escape from the bleak surroundings.

But as I took a hesitant bite of the fruit, the rich taste turned to ash.

Nothing seemed right without Ceara.

The food might have been fit for a queen, but in this environment, its extravagance seemed like a cruel joke.

Tears stung my eyes as the reality of my situation sunk in.

Here I was, trapped in a prison, torn between love and freedom.

With Ceara away, the weight of our situation, the weight of my choices, bore down on me.

Two days passed like this.

Ceara, lost in a haze after his sessions, and me, grappling with my secrets.

It was on the third day that something unexpected happened.

The guard, the same one who had delivered the sumptuous meals, entered.

This time, however, he didn't bring food.

Instead, he paused, looking directly at me.

"You're free to wander the prison," he said, almost casually, as if he was offering me a stroll in a park.

I blinked, processing his words. "What?"

He shrugged, opening the door wide. "Orders from the Supervisor. You can roam around, as long as you don't try anything foolish."

Stepping out hesitantly, I felt the cool air of the prison corridor on my face.

The hum of the overhead lights was deafening in the sudden silence, while the distant murmurs of other inmates echoed faintly.

It was a freedom, of sorts, but it felt strange, surreal.

Taking a deep breath, I ventured further.

The cold floor beneath my feet, the sharp tang of antiseptic in the air, every little sensation was amplified.

For the first time, I saw the prison not just as a place of confinement, but as a living, breathing entity.

Everywhere I went, I was met with curious glances.

Some inmates nodded in recognition, others simply stared.

Hours seemed to pass as I wandered aimlessly, lost in thought.

And then, as I turned a corner, I found myself standing before a large window.

The view took my breath away.

The vastness of space stretched out before me, stars twinkling like diamonds against the inky blackness.

A sense of perspective washed over me.

In the grand scheme of the universe, our problems, my secrets, seemed so insignificant.

And yet, to me, to us, they meant everything.

The corridors stretched ahead of me like a maze, each turn leading me deeper into the bowels of the prison.

Every step I took echoed eerily, the sound amplified by the silence that surrounded us.

My guard was always there, always watching, his heavy footsteps matching mine.

The feel of his piercing gaze on my back was palpable, a constant reminder that freedom, even the limited kind I had been granted, came at a cost.

Strange faces stared back at me from cells and communal areas.

Some looked on with mild interest, others with open hostility.

The murmur of their conversations, in languages I couldn't understand, was a cacophony of clicks, growls, and harmonious melodies.

The scent was overpowering: a mix of musk, alien foods, and the antiseptic tang that seemed omnipresent.

As we passed a particularly boisterous group, I felt a shiver of apprehension.

Their intense, unfamiliar eyes sized me up, weighing, evaluating.

For a moment, I felt like prey.

But then they noticed the armed guard following closely behind me and abruptly returned to their odd game.

The next part of the prison was even more disconcerting.

It was the Prize Pool.

Rows of cells, each filled with females, all different shapes and sizes, colors and textures.

Some were eerily beautiful, with shimmering scales or luminous skin.

Others looked fierce, with sharp claws and teeth.

All were dressed in negligees, presented like prized jewels.

A soft, rhythmic music played in the background, its ethereal tones making the whole scene feel dreamlike.

The reality, however, was much different.

I could see it in their eyes.

Some looked hopeful, staring intently at every passing Champion fighter.

Others looked resigned, their spirits broken by their circumstances.

I could feel the desperation in the air, a thick, cloying sensation.

They were trophies, to be won by the strongest, the most cunning.

I was snapped out of my reverie by a sudden roar.

Following the sound, I found myself at the edge of the fighting pits.

Massive, stadium-like structures, they were the heart of the prison's entertainment system.

Inside, two beasts locked in combat, their roars and snarls echoing through the arena.

Each blow, each movement was magnified on large holo-monitors, ensuring that every spectator had a front-row seat.

The creatures were like nothing I'd ever seen.

One was feline, with sleek black fur and eyes that glowed a fiery orange.

The other was more reptilian, its green scales glistening under the artificial lights.

They circled each other warily, muscles rippling, waiting for the perfect moment to strike.

The crowd was in a frenzy.

Spectators cheered, shouted, and waved banners in support of their favorite contender.

The excitement for bloodlust was palpable.

The whole scene was an overload on my senses.

The intense light, the overpowering smell of the beasts and the crowd, the deafening roars, and the feel of the cold metal railing under my grip as I watched, horrified.

As the feline creature landed a vicious blow, sending the reptilian beast crashing to the ground, the crowd erupted in cheers.

The victor roared in triumph, standing tall over its fallen opponent.

Suddenly, I felt a tap on my shoulder.

I turned to find my guard signaling that it was time to leave.

As I followed him out, the sights and sounds of the fighting pits still ringing in my ears, I couldn't shake off the weight of what I'd witnessed.

The desperation, the violence, the sheer brutality of it all.

* * *

The weightof the prison felt more oppressive than ever, and I trudged through the expansive corridors, trying to get my bearings.

The prison was a labyrinth, each pathway a swirling vortex of colors, noises, and emotions that threatened to pull me in.

But then, something shifted the oppressive energy.

As I rounded a corner, I stumbled upon a massive holo-monitor.

It took up almost the entire wall, casting an eerie glow over the corridor and everyone in it.

Alien text ran across the screen, paired with visuals of various interstellar events, news bites, and commercials for products I couldn't even begin to fathom.

However, one news clip grabbed everyone's attention.

It showcased an opulent setting — a massive hall filled with members of some unknown species, all of them dressed in rich, flowing garments, jewels that sparkled like galaxies, and body markings that shimmered and shifted with their emotions.

The leading figure, standing atop a podium, was a distinguished-looking alien with ethereal wings that fluttered gently behind him.

His skin was the color of molten silver, with multifaceted eyes that sparkled in deep shades of violet.

He spoke with a passion, voice resonating with authority, charisma, and hope.

Even without understanding the language, it was evident he was a politician, a leader, someone who was adored and respected.

But then, the broadcast took a dark turn.

A shadowy figure emerged in a hood, wielding a weapon that gleamed with futuristic energy.

The crowd's harmonious chatter turned to screams and gasps of horror.

The sequence played out in slow motion: the leader's eyes widened in realization just as the weapon was activated, emitting a blinding burst of light, and when the haze cleared, the once-commanding figure slumped lifelessly on the podium.

A collective gasp rippled through the prison corridor.

Even the guards, typically so stoic and unresponsive, looked taken aback.

Conversations erupted around me, prisoners expressing their shock, their disbelief.

The murmur of different languages merged into a symphony of anger, confusion, and sadness.

I leaned against the cold wall, trying to process what I'd seen.

I could hear disgruntled discussions, the growls and clicks of disagreement, and the occasional wails of those who mourned.

What surprised me more was the smell.

A bizarre emotion, unfamiliar yet oddly comforting, wafted through the air.

It was a scent of unity.

Despite being in a prison, and despite the various races, there was a shared moment of empathy, a moment where they were all united by the loss of a significant figure.

Lost in my thoughts, I was brought back to reality when a soft, warm hand brushed against mine.

Startled, I looked to my side and met the eyes of an elderly male, his skin the texture of tree bark and colors that shifted like an autumn leaf.

He murmured something in his language, his voice a gentle lullaby, yet his eyes held a deep sadness.

It must have been a very rare or little-known language as my translator took a few moments to process it:

"He was meant to be a new beginning, a new hope. But now the fulcrum of history has been decided."

I nodded, letting him know that I appreciated his sentiment.

There was a silent understanding, a bond formed out of shared grief.

For a brief moment, amidst the chaos of the prison and the overwhelming uncertainty of my life here, I felt a sense of kinship.

Shaking off the melancholy, I decided to return to Ceara.

I needed to share this with him, to process the impact of such an event.

As I walked back, the prison's sounds faded into the background, replaced by the rapid beating of my heart and the shuffle of my footsteps.

There was a great change coming, a seismic shift in the intergalactic landscape.

It was far too early to know its full ramifications but I sensed, somehow, I was an intricate part of it.

* * *

The steel gratingof the cell felt strangely comforting to my feet as I returned, their previous roughness now a well-acquainted texture that signified safety and Ceara.

My entire body ached from the day's explorations, but the fatigue was a sweet reminder that I had tasted a semblance of freedom within these prison walls.

I had barely settled on our shared bunk when the door slid open, revealing Ceara's towering frame.

The bruised blue of his skin seemed less battered today, and his usually weary eyes lit up at the sight of me.

A soft sigh escaped me, the gentle sound of relief and warmth.

His presence was like a balm, soothing away the sharp edges of my turbulent emotions.

His lips curved into a tired smile, but the joy in his gaze was unmistakable. "Ellie," he murmured, his voice like the soft hum of an old song, a sound that had begun to feel like home.

I grinned back, heart swelling.

Despite the bleakness of our circumstances, there was a silver lining — our moments together.

The aroma of the prison's unique cuisine wafted into our cell, hinting at dinner time.

But neither of us moved.

Instead, Ceara's face took on a serious expression.

"I sense your turmoil," he began, his deep voice resonating with the raw honesty of his feelings. "I know you're not completely happy here with me any longer."

I blinked in surprise.

The reality of our situation, combined with my lingering secret, had created an invisible barrier between us.

But I hadn't realized how palpable it had become.

Before I could voice my protest, he continued:

"I've made a decision. I shall ask the Supervisor to return you to the Prize Pool."

His words hit me like a sledgehammer, each syllable a crushing blow.

I felt as though I'd been plunged into cold water, every sense heightened in sudden panic.

My eyes stung, my ears ringing with the echoing finality of his statement.

"All I wish is for you to be happy," he said, although it was clear that taking that action most certainly wouldn't make him happy.

My fingers instinctively reached out, gripping his arm.

"Why would you do that?" My voice was raw, a blend of confusion and desperation.

He hesitated, a cloud of sadness veiling his gaze. "You're clearly not content here with me. I can't bear the thought of you being trapped, Ellie. If there's one thing I want above all others, it's for you to find happiness. Even at the cost of my own."

Tears threatened, but I fought them back.

Closing the distance between us, I looked deep into his eyes. "I am happy with you, Ceara," I whispered, tasting the saltiness of my unshed tears. "I don't want the Prize Pool. I don't want to be a Prize to be won. What I crave is freedom… our freedom. Together."

His gaze held a storm of emotions: hope, pain, longing, and love. "Ellie, the only liberation I can offer is within these walls," he murmured.

The weight of our reality pressed on me, but in that moment, I knew I'd choose a cage with Ceara over an endless sky without him.

Swallowing the lump in my throat, I whispered:

"Then let this be our world, for now."

Gently cradling my face, Ceara leaned down, his lips finding mine.

The world outside faded as warmth flooded my senses.

The kiss was a promise, a binding contract sealed with love and longing.

As we pulled apart, I nestled my head against his chest, taking solace in the rhythmic beat of his heart.

Without saying a word, he reached for my dress and pulled it up over my head.

He took me in, admiring my naked form.

Then he brought his lips to my skin and sent powerful ripples of excitement coursing through me.

This, I thought. This is our freedom.

But on the outside, for now, our cell was our universe, and our love, the stars that illuminated our path.