2. Ashale

The sandy scent of the fighting pits filled my nostrils as the sharp clank of weapons, grunts, and roars reverberated through the arena.

The prison's combat ground was a harsh world, separated from the depths of the cosmos above only by the translucent, dome-like ceiling.

I was fortunate that in the vastness of this grim place, I had carved out a niche for myself as a mentor, one whose voice the fighters sought amidst the chaos.

Looking down at the pit from my vantage point, I watched two combatants lock into a fierce battle.

One was a hulking brute named Garlon, an alien with rough, grayish skin covered in spikes.

His opponent, Larn, was one of my proteges — a lean, agile fighter from a moon where gravity had chiseled its inhabitants into swift-moving creatures.

They circled each other, Garlon's every heavy footfall a contrast to Larn's graceful, darting movements.

I felt the gritty texture of the guardrail beneath my fingers as I leaned forward, narrowing my eyes at the combat below.

The din of the crowd was a continuous drone, but I zeroed in on Larn's rhythm, sensing the adrenaline rushing through his veins.

Garlon lunged first, swinging his massive club with all the power his beefy arms could muster.

But Larn, with his heightened reflexes, nimbly rolled to the side, leaving Garlon to strike nothing but air.

"Stay nimble, Larn!" I shouted, my voice barely piercing the cacophony.

The cool air hit the back of my throat as I continued cheering. "Use his weight against him!"

The two continued their dance.

Larn's strategy was clear — to tire out the behemoth.

Larn's agile feints and dodges frustrated Garlon.

Each miss took a toll on the larger combatant's stamina, his breathing growing ragged.

Garlon, desperate for a win, roared and unleashed a flurry of strikes.

Larn, quick as ever, dodged most but got caught by a glancing blow.

The force threw him several feet away, dust rising from where he landed.

The crowd gasped.

My heart raced. "Get up! Remember your training!" I yelled, hope and worry flavoring every word.

Heeding my call, Larn sprang to his feet just as Garlon came charging.

Using Garlon's momentum against him, Larn dropped and performed a sweeping kick, catching the larger fighter by surprise.

Garlon tumbled, crashing into the pit's perimeter with a thud that resonated through the ground, even up to where I stood.

A triumphant cheer erupted from the crowd. "That's how it's done!" I shouted, pride swelling within me.

Despite the inherent violence and stakes of these battles, I always maintained an unspoken bond of respect with those I mentored.

I became a coach not out of necessity but out of a desire to improve the lot of those trapped in this merciless environment.

Not just in terms of combat skills but also in instilling the values of teamwork, trust, and honor.

In the pits, where life could be snuffed out in an instant, I had learned that a fighter with a cause, a fighter who felt valued, was more formidable than one simply thrown into the fray.

Every win was a testament to that belief.

Larn stood tall, looking up towards me.

I could see the gratitude in his eyes — eyes that shimmered with determination but also a hint of sadness, longing for a freedom we both knew was out of reach.

Returning his gaze, I nodded.

Our mutual understanding went beyond words.

I could hear the distant hum of the prison's barriers, a gentle reminder of our confinement.

Yet, amidst it all, we found purpose, camaraderie, and an undeniable spirit that refused to be quelled.

As the crowd's excitement began to subside, I took a deep breath, inhaling the mixed fragrances of sweat and hope.

For in the pits, amidst all the brutality, hope was the one thing that kept us going, the one thing they couldn't take away from us.

But there was one thing stronger than hope, and unbeknownst to me, I would soon be getting it in the face full-bore.

* * *

The clamorof coins jingling in my palm seemed a sweet melody after the hard-fought victory.

As I approached the shadowy corner where the bookie stood, the stench of cigar smoke grew stronger, almost overpowering the underlying odor of sweat and blood from the pits. "You're late on your payment, Ashale," he growled, his voice gravelly and thick with smoke.

I smirked, shoving half the stack into his hands with a nonchalance that had become my trademark. "Always betting against the odds," I commented, eyeing the odds he had given my fighter.

His chuckle was dry. "One of these days, Ashale, your luck will run out."

I smiled wider. "But not today."

I then handed Larn his share.

He was still catching his breath, skin gleaming with exertion.

He took a deep breath, savoring the tang of the air in the lower levels of the prison. "Thanks, Co'ar," he mumbled, clearly overwhelmed by the win.

Co'ar was the respectful title Larn's people gave to mentors like me.

"You did well," I whispered back. "But remember what I told you about that offhand. It's dropping too much when you defend."

I took a sip of the lukewarm water from my flask, the liquid a brief relief.

Its slight metallic taste reminded me of where I was.

The sound of distant cheering brought my attention back to the arena.

"Yes, Co'ar," he nodded vigorously, then turned his attention to the Prize Pool above.

As he ascended the stairs, I caught sight of the Prizes fluttering around him like moths to a flame.

He was one of the good ones, I thought. Unlike that brute, Sneik.

Sneik was formidable in the ring, a force to be reckoned with.

But he was predictable.

A strong right arm, a swift uppercut — the same techniques he'd relied on for years and years.

Few knew of the tiny chink in his armor, a weakness I had discovered through years of observation.

But information like that wasn't to be shared lightly.

Even in a place like this, knowledge was power.

A scream.

It came from the Prize Pool as Sneik exited with a female human clutched tightly in his arm.

I ground my teeth.

If he squeezed any harder, he would break the bone.

The female was pleading with him, and although I couldn't hear her words, I didn't have to think hard about what they might be.

Let me go.

You're not the one I want.

Please.

It was the same desperate tone every Prize that suddenly found herself in his company cried.

But there was nothing I could do — nothing anyone could do.

The fighting pit rules were clear.

A pit Champion Claimed his Prize, and no one could come between them.

I turned to head to my quarters and get some much-needed rest when a flicker caught my eye.

Amidst the shadows of the viewing deck, a soft luminescence shone.

I edged closer, curiosity piqued.

It was the female human.

Her skin… it pulsed gently with a blue light like a heartbeat.

It was as if my entire being honed in on one singular magnetic force.

What caught my attention wasn't the fact that the female was resisting Sneik's grip — all Prizes did that — it was the way the soft light from the corridor played upon her skin.

Her tattoos shifted and shimmered with every movement, seeming to come alive.

As I focused, I caught glimpses of the intricate design weaving in and out of view from beneath her sheer gown.

There were shapes there, bestial ones reminiscent of ancient stories and prophecies of soul connections.

Drawing in a deep breath, an intoxicating aroma overwhelmed me.

It wasn't the sterilized scent that pervaded the prison, but something else, something ethereal.

Earth and rain, with a tinge of wildflowers, and something else uniquely hers.

Every molecule of my being seemed to recognize it, and respond to it.

It was more than just a physical reaction.

It was a deep soul tug.

This was personal.

This was… profound.

I closed my eyes for a moment, allowing the feeling to wash over me.

Warmth spread from the pit of my stomach, traveling to the tips of my fingers and toes.

It felt as though every fiber of my being was coming alive, humming with a frequency that resonated with hers.

My heart rate, which had always maintained a steady, detached rhythm, now skipped and stuttered as if trying to synchronize with another's.

Opening my eyes, I felt more awake, more alert than I had in what felt like lifetimes.

It was as if layers of grime and grit from years of imprisonment were washed away, revealing a core that was pristine and untouched.

That core, I realized, was calling out to hers.

Her cries, though fading as Sneik whisked her away, tugged at my insides, causing a sensation that was both agonizing and exhilarating.

It was clear; I couldn't let Sneik have her.

Determination set in.

While the direct route was blocked by Sneik's imposing presence, I knew the labyrinthine corridors of this prison like the back of my hand.

There were shortcuts, secret passages, hidden nooks that many didn't know about.

I veered off to a dimly lit side corridor.

The chill of the steel under my fingers seemed even colder with the warmth that still enveloped me.

Old oil and rust, as I navigated through the maze.

Every footstep echoed, each one quicker than the last.

The dim lights overhead cast a sickly hue, making everything appear as if underwater.

But I didn't care about the gloom.

I didn't care about the treacherous path.

My senses, heightened and sharp, were all dialed in on her.

On the female human.

Reaching Sneik's block, I paused, pressing myself against the cold wall.

The faint sound of their voices reached my ears, her pleas, and his gruff dismissals.

My palms felt sweaty.

But the burn in my chest, the magnetic pull towards her, was all-consuming.

I had to intervene, had to act.

Not just because of her undeniable connection to me but because deep down, amidst the pain and the grimness of this prison, something pure had awakened.

A feeling of hope.

A belief in destiny.

I had no plan, no weapon, nothing but the element of surprise and the newfound conviction that we were, in some inexplicable way, connected.

I prepared to confront Sneik, determined to claim what felt irrefutably mine.

* * *

The door toSneik's cell stood tall and imposing, bathed in the dim, pulsating light of the hallway.

Its obsidian surface radiated an eerie glow.

Hesitation nipped at the edges of my confidence.

Was the battle inside already lost?

The thought of what could be happening behind that door was a gnawing pain in my gut.

My heart thudded in my chest, and I could hear its pounding in my ears, drowning out the ambient noises of the prison.

For a moment, I hesitated, contemplating the best course of action.

Every second counted, and indecision might cost dearly.

A mix of desperation and protectiveness took over.

I couldn't — wouldn't — let Sneik defile her.

I rapped hard on the door, the sound reverberating in the silence.

I leaned in, pressing my ear to the cold surface, trying to decipher the muffled noises from within.

A hint of fear, and underlying it all, that intoxicating aroma that was uniquely hers — wafted through the minuscule gaps around the door.

It was a sensory overload, a mix of danger and desire.

A few agonizingly long seconds ticked by.

I heard her soft whimper, a vulnerable sound that twisted my insides.

Without giving it another thought, I pounded on the door even harder, a rhythmic thudding that mirrored the frantic pace of my heartbeat.

Suddenly, the door swung open, revealing Sneik, his hulking frame blocking my view of the room.

But just beyond him, on the cold floor, was the female human.

Her silver gown was now slightly torn, and her exposed skin was marked with the beginnings of bruises.

But her eyes, those luminous eyes, held a fire, a spirit that told me she wasn't broken.

Yet.

"Sorry for the intrusion," I began, trying to keep my voice steady while my gaze stayed locked with the female's.

The intensity in her eyes was undeniable; a silent plea and understanding passed between us.

Sneik sneered. "What do you want, Ashale?"

I shot back without tearing my eyes away from her. "I think you have something that belongs to me."

His menacing laugh was a low rumble. "And what might that be?"

I took a deep breath.

Sneik's stance turned even more menacing. "She is mine," he growled, stepping forward in a protective manner.

I smiled, although I felt no warmth from it. "I understand why you might think so. But you see, there's been a mistake. She shouldn't be here in the first place."

Sneik snorted, clearly not buying it. "A mistake? She was in the Prize Pool. I Claimed her."

Did I really want to do this?

Did I want to kick this fh'loa nest?

I sighed and looked at the female once more.

Yes, I realized. And there's really no other choice.

"Very well," I said.

Without another word, I lunged at Sneik with a speed that even surprised me.

My fist connected with his jaw, sending him staggering back a few steps.

It was a move I had taught many of my fighters but seldom used myself.

And it worked, catching him off guard.

The female gasped.

The room was a cacophony of grunts, the clash of our bodies, and the scuffling of feet.

Sneik might have been bigger, but I had the element of surprise and determination on my side.

I was fighting not just for the female before me but for that inexplicable connection that had pulled me towards her.

I wasn't about to let go.

Our fists clashed, strength against strength.

Every hit I landed was for the fear I had seen in the female's eyes, and every blow I took fueled my resolve even more.

The tang of blood filled my mouth as one of Sneik's punches landed square on my face.

But the pain was secondary; the need to protect her and stake my claim was all-consuming.

Utilizing a grappling technique, I had taught some of my best fighters, I got behind Sneik, locking him in a chokehold.

His struggles were fierce, the heat from his body intense against mine, but I held on.

We had moved away from the door during our tussle, and the female, with newfound courage, made a move to escape.

But she paused as our massive bodies blocked her exit.

If she wasn't careful, she was going to get crushed.

She backed up and watched us, her breaths coming out in ragged gasps.

I swept Sneik's legs out from under him and rolled to one side.

Turning towards the female, my breaths labored, I reached out a hand. "Are you all right?"

Her trembling hand met mine, her touch sending jolts of electricity up my arm.

It was a connection, intense and undeniable.

And though the danger wasn't entirely averted, in that moment, with our fingers intertwined, everything else faded into the background.

Sneik's brutish face contorted in rage as he lunged for me.

His attack was fierce yet predictable.

He had the raw power of a wild beast, but I had the precision and training of a seasoned warrior.

Our fight resembled a dance, one of fire and skill, where each step had meaning, each move a purpose.

The taste of salt and iron stung my lips, sweat mixed with blood.

The dim light of the cell threw distorted shadows on the walls, amplifying the scene's grotesque beauty.

Sneik, with his raw might, was an avalanche, threatening to engulf everything in its path.

I felt the force of his punches, like battering rams seeking to break down castle gates.

But for every wild swing he took, I retaliated with a calculated counter-move.

My focus was sharp, and my senses heightened.

I heard the soft rustle of my clothing with each maneuver, the rapid inhale-exhale of our breaths, and the thud of feet.

The female's soft gasps were a faint undercurrent to the main symphony of grunts and blows.

But they were there, reminding me of the stakes at play.

With each parry and dodge, I tapped into the vast pool of techniques I had accumulated over the years.

Sneik may have dominated the fighting pits with his raw aggression, but here, in this enclosed space, finesse and strategy would reign supreme.

One of his wild swings gave me an opening.

I ducked and swiftly delivered a punch to his midsection.

The oof sound he emitted was gratifying.

I followed up with a kick, sending him staggering back.

The scent of blood filled the air as a gash opened on his cheek.

Sneik's eyes, wild with fury, locked onto mine.

They were the eyes of a wounded predator, desperate and dangerous.

He charged at me with renewed energy.

But as he got closer, the world seemed to slow.

Every minute detail was vivid: the beads of sweat on his forehead, the slight tremor of the female's breath, the cool touch of the floor beneath my feet.

Using his momentum against him, I sidestepped at the last moment and executed a perfect throw, sending him crashing onto the ground with a deafening thud.

The very walls of the cell seemed to vibrate from the impact.

Before he could react, I pinned him down, locking his limbs.

He thrashed, but it was in vain.

His fierce growls were now replaced with grunts of frustration.

I could feel the heat emanating from his body, the rhythm of his erratic heartbeat against my forearm.

Gathering all my strength, I delivered a final blow to the side of his head.

The impact resonated through my knuckles, a satisfying confirmation of a job well done.

"The… The rules!" Sneik managed, beginning to finally lose consciousness.

"Some things are more important than the rules," I told him. "I hope you won't bear a grudge when you wake up."

But I could tell from his expression that he most certainly would hold a grudge.

Sneik's eyes rolled back, and his massive frame went limp beneath me.

Panting heavily, I slowly got up, every muscle in my body protesting.

The sounds of the prison returned to my ears, distant and muffled, but the only sound that truly mattered was the female's soft voice.

"Is he…?"

"He's unconscious," I replied, wiping the sweat and blood from my brow.

Killing him would have ended the threat he now represented but would have opened up a whole lot of new problems in its stead.

The female's eyes snapped toward the open door.

I could read her thoughts as easily as if they were tattooed on her face.

"I wouldn't try to head back alone," I told her, wiping the blood from my cheek. "I beat Sneik, but I don't think I can defeat hundreds of prisoners when they catch sight of you alone in the halls."

She stopped and gazed up at me, unsure if she could really trust me.

But the sight of Sneik at my feet gave her pause for thought.

"What's your name?" I asked.

"Nova."

"I'm Ashale."

"You're hurt." Her fingers reached out, tenderly tracing the bruise forming on my cheek.

The simple touch sent a shiver down my spine, and for a brief moment, amidst the chaos, all I was aware of was her.

Her scent enveloped me, a mix of lilacs and a hint of something uniquely her.

"Thank you," she whispered, her voice tinged with relief and something more profound.

I opened Sneik's wardrobe and selected a long coat.

"Here," I told her. "Put this on."

"Why?"

"I have to get you out of here. Guards, or worse, will swarm the area before long."

She slipped the coat on.

I extended a hand toward her.

She appraised it, and I wasn't sure if she would take it.

Looking into her eyes, I saw a reflection of my own tumultuous emotions.

The connection between us was undeniable.

We were two souls brought together by fate and circumstance.

And as the universe outside continued its eternal dance, inside this cold prison cell, a new story was beginning.

But could she be made to understand?