15. Ellie

The journey out of my cell was more daunting this time.

My heart beat like a trapped bird against its cage, every step echoing in the hollows of the vast prison corridors.

The gentle hum of the overhead lights and the distant murmurs of the prisoners became my company, but I was very aware of the towering presence of the armed guard behind me.

Although he was the embodiment of our captivity, a symbol of the prison's power over us, I couldn't help but feel a strange sense of security with him by my side.

This labyrinth was unfamiliar territory to me, and his presence was a beacon, a safety net.

The tang of the prison's metallic air, slightly pungent, mingled with the stink of the prisoners.

The walls felt cold and unyielding beneath my fingers, their surface rough from wear and tear.

The floors hummed softly with the energy that powered the entire facility, causing a gentle vibration underfoot.

The sounds of life and machinery, of murmurs and clanks, built a haunting melody.

The occasional sharp hiss from the air vents above startled me, but not as much as the gaze of the prisoners.

Their eyes followed my every move, their thoughts a mystery to me.

Some whispered among themselves, while others just stared silently.

I was lost in the symphony of sights and sounds when, out of nowhere, a prisoner lunged at me.

The world seemed to slow.

His scales glistened, reflecting the overhead lights, and his claws reached out hungrily.

His hot breath, a mix of rotting meat and sulfur, assaulted my nostrils.

A scream lodged in my throat as he tried to pull me into his cell.

But before I could even fully register the threat, a sharp crack echoed in the corridor.

The butt of the armed guard's plasma rifle came down on the attacker.

The alien recoiled, hissing in pain.

The guard's prompt response and the sudden turn of events left me both grateful and petrified.

My heart raced, and I could feel a tremble start from the tips of my fingers, spreading through my body.

"Back to your cell!" The guard's voice was a deep growl, both a warning to the prisoner and a reassurance to me.

The defiant alien slunk back, his eyes seething with anger but also filled with fear of further retribution.

I felt the world spinning.

My legs wobbled, and I wasn't sure I could continue. "I want to go back," I whispered, my voice shaky.

The cold, oppressive walls of our cell never seemed more appealing.

Suddenly, amid the cacophony of prisoner murmurs, a familiar voice pierced through, sharp and clear. "Ellie!"

I froze.

My eyes darted around, scanning the cells and the faces, trying to locate the source of the voice.

No one I knew had any idea I was here… did they?

Somewhere in the depths of the prison, someone knew my name, someone who might be an ally — or another threat.

But that shout, filled with surprise and concern, gave me a glimmer of hope.

Maybe, just maybe, Ceara and I weren't as alone in this fight as we'd believed.

* * *

The voice echoedthrough the prison corridor again, "Ellie!"

It took me a moment to recognize the soft, melodic tone as I hadn't heard it for several days now; and even when I had last heard it, I didn't think I would be hearing it again.

When I pinpointed its source, a smile tugged at my lips despite the dire circumstances.

Emerging from the tangled maze of prisoners, Nova, the confident human Prize I had encountered during my early days in this prison, approached me.

Beside her, the contrast almost comical: a massive Champion with sharp features and muscles that looked as if they had been carved from granite.

He had a perpetual scowl etched on his face, but there was an undeniable gentleness in the way he looked at Nova.

It reminded me of the bond Ceara and I shared — complex and full of contrasts.

Nova's iridescent tattoos seemed to reflect the light, creating an ethereal dance of colors around her.

Her laughter sounded like the tinkle of tiny bells as she flew to greet me. "Oh, Ellie! It's been ages! How have you been?"

She landed gracefully on my shoulder, her touch as light as a feather.

I could feel the warmth of her body through my clothes.

I chuckled. "You make it sound like we've been apart for years! But I'm glad to see you too, Nova."

She winked, her eyes shimmering like dew-covered leaves under the morning sun. "In prison, every day feels like an eternity. But come, let's walk and talk."

Nova's Champion lover trailed behind us, his footsteps heavy and thudding.

He seemed disinterested in our conversation but kept a watchful eye on his companion.

The corridor was abuzz with sounds — shouts, jeers, laughter — but it all faded away as Nova and I became engrossed in our conversation.

She regaled me with tales of her time in the Prize Pool and the Champion she'd been with.

The walls of the prison seemed to recede, replaced by her vivid descriptions of passionate nights and heart-racing moments.

As Nova narrated, her face showed a mix of emotions — excitement, glee, but also a hint of wistfulness. "The passion, Ellie, is undeniable," she sighed, "but there's nothing like love, like intimacy."

I remembered my nights with Ceara, the tenderness and love that went beyond physical passion. "I think I know what you mean, Nova. Passion can be fleeting, but love… love has depth."

Nova looked at me with twinkling eyes, "Oh? Sounds like someone's had quite the journey since we last met."

I blushed, the warmth spreading across my cheeks. "I've fallen in love, Nova. With Ceara."

"Ceara?" Nova asked. "I don't think I've heard of that Champion."

I shook my head. "That's because he's not a Champion. In fact, I'm not sure if he's really a prisoner at all—"

Nova's Champion lover might not have an ear for what we were discussing but my armed guard certainly did.

He cleared his throat; a warning for me to end this line of gossip immediately.

I decided to stick to the romance part of the story as I was sure that was what Nova was interested in anyway. "It's not just about attraction anymore; it's much more profound than that."

Nova clapped her tiny hands in joy. "Oh, Ellie, that's wonderful! True love in a place like this is a rarity. Cherish it."

The Prize Pool loomed ahead, a vibrant, bustling place.

The sounds of laughter, the heady mix of perfumes, and the sight of females presenting themselves to their Champions — it was a sensory overload.

The air was thick with anticipation and pheromones, creating an intoxicating cocktail that made my head spin.

Nova turned to me as we stood at the entrance. "Would you like to join us inside?"

I paused, glancing at the entrance and thinking of Ceara waiting for me. "Thank you, Nova. But I think I'll pass. I need to get back to Ceara."

She nodded. "I understand. Take care, Ellie. And remember, in this place, love is your greatest weapon."

I smiled, touched by her words. "Thank you, Nova. Stay safe."

As I made my way back to my cell, the sounds of the Prize Pool faded behind me.

But Nova's words echoed in my mind, strengthening my resolve to find a way out of this place — with Ceara by my side.

* * *

I foundmyself inexplicably drawn towards the fighting pits.

The raw energy that emitted from them was palpable.

The distant growls, the clash of weapons, and the mixed scents of blood, sweat, and excitement were intoxicating.

The entire atmosphere was a blend of danger and excitement.

The fighting pits were unlike anything I'd ever seen.

Two contenders, whether beasts or skilled fighters, faced off in a fierce battle while spectators cheered and jeered from the stands.

The air was thick with tension, the pungent smell of anticipation, and the tang of blood.

Occasionally, the ground would shudder beneath my feet as a beast lunged at its opponent, sending shockwaves through the arena.

As I wandered closer, trying to find a vantage point, I bumped into the old prisoner I had spoken with the day before.

He seemed out of place amidst the chaos, like a relic from a forgotten time.

His wise eyes looked up at me, reflecting the bright lights from the pit.

"Ah, the inquisitive one. Back for more stories, or perhaps a flutter on the fights?" His voice was raspy, yet there was a melodic quality to it, like an old song.

He was taking bets, scribbling odds on pieces of paper and exchanging them for credits or trinkets.

There was a certain rhythm to his actions — take a bet, scribble, hand over a ticket, repeat.

Watching him was almost hypnotic.

"As you were kind enough to lend me your ear yesterday, how about a free bet?" he said, holding out a tattered piece of paper. "On the house. Or should I say, on me?"

I hesitated. "I don't know anything about these fights or who's who."

He chuckled, a sound that reminded me of rustling leaves. "Doesn't matter. Go with your gut. Choose at random."

Taking a deep breath, I pointed to a name on his list — The Jjilar — a name that felt right in that moment.

"An excellent choice," the old prisoner said, scribbling something down, then handing me a ticket with a knowing smile.

"Keep it close," he whispered. "It might just come in handy."

His words sent a chill down my spine, causing the fine hairs on the back of my neck to stand on end.

There was something about the way he said it, an underlying hint that there was more to this bet than met the eye.

My senses were heightened.

The stench of the pits, the clamor of the crowd.

As I tucked the ticket into my pocket, I couldn't shake off the feeling that someone — or something — was watching me.

But this sensation wasn't threatening.

In fact, it felt quite the opposite.

I was being watched over, protected.

It made me smile, filling me with positivity.

Was it Ceara's presence I felt?

Or perhaps something more mystical?

As the day wore on, I watched the battles unfold.

Some were short and brutal, others dragged on, testing the stamina and willpower of the fighters.

Through it all, I held onto the ticket, occasionally rubbing it between my fingers.

It was a strange source of comfort amidst the chaos.

My fight wasn't until later in the day and I wondered why the old prisoner had chosen that particular time slot for me.

The events of the day might have seemed insignificant on the surface, but deep down, I felt they held more significant meaning.

It wasn't just about a ticket or a fleeting sensation.

It was about hope.

A glimmer of positivity in a place of darkness.

I couldn't help but turn to my armed guard and asked him what the name of the Champion I had chosen, The Jjilar, meant in its native tongue.

There was no reason to expect the guard to reply, but he surprised me by doing so.

He snorted.

"What?" I asked.

"Fate," he said. "It means Fate."

My grin grew wider and wider as I walked back to my cell, to Ceara,

I held onto the ticket tightly, believing that, in the end, it would guide us to our freedom.