16. Nova

The end of the day descended upon the Prize Pool like the cover of a heavy book, closing the tales of yet another day's battles and the fate of those who awaited Claiming.

The once vivid glows of the neon lights began to dim, casting a tired hue over the room.

I stood, as always, atop my designated platform.

My body was still and composed, but inside, my mind was a torrent of emotions.

My heart thudded loudly in my chest, drowning out the distant murmurs of the other Prizes and Champions.

Another Champion, with broad shoulders and cybernetic implants decorating his arms, began his rounds, inspecting the available Prizes.

His footsteps echoed, getting louder as he drew closer to my platform.

I could feel his gaze on me, appraising, considering.

But I just stood there, lost in my thoughts, memories of Ashale consuming me.

His face was imprinted in my mind's eye — the intensity of his eyes, the curve of his lips, the power of his embrace.

I wondered where he was now and what might have happened to him after that last fight.

My senses ached for any trace of him.

But he was nowhere.

And that void left me feeling detached from the present.

The buzz of conversations around me, the touch of the cool air against my skin, the occasional whiff of some Champion's musky cologne — none of it mattered.

My world had narrowed down to one singular point of focus:

Ashale.

The Champion in front of me cleared his throat, breaking my reverie.

I found myself staring into cold, analytical eyes.

He probably assumed I'd be an easy Claim, given my obvious despondence.

He raised an arm, his fingers poised to make the final gesture that would seal my fate.

My pulse quickened, but not out of excitement or fear.

A growing resignation settled within me.

Without Ashale, did it even matter who Claimed me?

As the Champion's fingers began to move, a loud voice boomed through the room, stopping him in his tracks. "She's reserved. She belongs to me."

The room fell silent, and all eyes turned to the entrance.

And there he was — Ashale.

Alive.

Unharmed.

His presence was like a ray of sunlight piercing through storm clouds.

My heart soared, and tears of relief threatened to spill from my eyes.

The moment Ashale's words echoed through the room, a wave of elation crashed over me, and all reservations I'd been holding onto dissipated.

With a lightness I hadn't felt in what seemed like ages, I jumped down from the platform, and with the eagerness of a child seeing a long-lost parent, I rushed into his arms.

Ashale, despite his ever-present facade of calm strength, seemed momentarily taken aback by my sudden display.

But it was only for a second.

Almost instantly, he wrapped his arms around me, pulling me closer, his embrace enveloping me in a safety I had begun to fear I'd never feel again.

However, our reunion was interrupted by a cold, sharp voice.

The Champion, his features twisted in annoyance, stepped forward. "I was about to claim her," he growled, his eyes locked on Ashale with undisguised hostility.

The tension in the room was palpable; the silence was punctuated only by the low hum of the overhead lights.

Before either Ashale or I could respond, a movement from the corner of my eye caught my attention.

Several of the Prizes, the same females I'd shared so many moments of doubt and camaraderie with, were stepping forward.

One, with a cascade of silver hair and shimmering tattoos, spoke up.

"Claim two of us instead," she offered, her voice gentle but unwavering.

Beside her, another Prize nodded in agreement, the swirling patterns on her skin reflecting her determination.

The Champion's expression transitioned from surprise to contemplation.

His gaze shifted between the two Prizes and me, weighing his options.

In a universe that often felt void of choices, this was a momentary gift of power to him, and he seemed to savor it.

After what felt like an eternity, he nodded, reaching out to place a hand on the shoulder of the silver-haired Prize and another who stood by her side.

They both stiffened, though the determination never wavered from their eyes.

As the Champion led them away, the weight of their sacrifice began to press heavily on my chest.

I couldn't let them leave without expressing my gratitude, my confusion, my admiration. "Why?" I called out, my voice slightly shaky from the rush of emotions.

The silver-haired Prize paused, turning her head slightly to look back at me.

The Champion, perhaps curious himself, allowed her this brief moment.

"Because," she began, her voice soft yet echoing in the almost silent room, "true love should be fought for and defended. Not all of us will be fortunate enough to find it, but those who do should cherish it."

A wistful, melancholic smile formed on her lips.

It was a mask, a facade meant to comfort me and, perhaps, herself.

She turned away, continuing her path alongside the Champion, her shoulders held high despite the burden she'd willingly accepted.

The weight of her words hung heavily in the air, casting a poignant shadow over the room.

All eyes were on them as they left, the exit doors sliding shut behind them with an air of finality.

I couldn't help but feel a mixture of guilt, gratitude, and a newfound determination to ensure that their sacrifice wasn't in vain.

Pulling myself back into the present, I turned my attention to Ashale.

His eyes, filled with a mixture of relief and concern, met mine.

We didn't need to speak; our emotions, our shared experiences, our love for one another, all communicated volumes in the silence between us.

Holding onto him, I buried my face in the crook of his neck, allowing myself to get lost in him.

The soft rustling of his clothes, the rhythmic beating of his heart — they all reassured me that he was real, that he was here with me.

The outside world, with its challenges and threats, seemed distant.

For now, in this brief moment of respite, all that mattered was the comforting embrace of the one I loved.

* * *

The doorto Ashale's cell slid open, revealing the room that had been his home for so long.

My bare feet touched the cold, smooth floor, sending a slight shiver up my spine.

The fluorescent lights overhead gave the room an almost sterile glow.

He guided me inside, his hand gently placed on the small of my back.

I was hyper-aware of every touch, every little sensation as if my senses were reacquainting themselves with the concept of safety and affection.

We sat on his bed, which was nothing more than a slab with a thin, gray mattress on top.

Yet, with Ashale beside me, it felt more comforting than any luxurious setup I'd ever known.

"I need to tell you something," Ashale started, his voice low, heavy with a seriousness that immediately caught my attention.

His green eyes, usually sparkling with mischief, were clouded with concern.

"The Supervisor has decided on a special event. Given what happened… well, he's allowing a twist. I can be supported by your ability in the fighting pit," he explained, a hint of hesitation lacing his words, "and Sneik… he gets the same opportunity."

My heart dropped, a cold dread settling in my stomach.

The taste of bile threatened at the back of my throat. "It's a trap, Ashale," I murmured, my fingers clutching the edge of the mattress, feeling the rough fabric dig into my skin.

The foreboding sound of distant machinery humming reminded me of our prison-like surroundings.

Ashale sighed deeply, his breath tickling my cheek. "I know. But refusing the offer isn't an option. And, in a strange way, it might be our only chance."

Seeing my confusion, he elaborated:

"If we can summon a dragon from within us before the event, we can break free from this prison. We won't even have to face Sneik in the pit."

For a few moments, the weight of our situation pressed down on me, a suffocating heaviness that threatened to crush my spirit.

The odds seemed insurmountable, the stakes higher than ever before.

But, with Ashale's hand enveloping mine, a sense of hope ignited within, faint but growing steadily.

The touch of his fingers, warm and comforting against my cool skin, reassured me, reminding me that together, we could face any challenge.

Without saying a word, I rose from the bed, taking a deep, steadying breath.

The familiar sounds of the cellblock surrounded us, the distant murmurs of guards and other inmates, but they seemed distant, almost inconsequential in the face of our newfound mission.

I settled into a meditation position, feeling the cool floor against my crossed legs.

Ashale watched me with a mixture of admiration and hope, his green eyes reflecting the same fierce determination I felt.

As I closed my eyes, preparing to dive deep within myself in search of the elusive dragon, I whispered:

"Then let's get started."

With the echoes of our shared resolve filling the cell, we embarked on our journey together, united in purpose and bound by love.

* * *

The chillin the room was like a backdrop, reminding me of our dire circumstances, but the warmth radiating from Ashale as he sat beside me was both comforting and invigorating.

We began in sync, our breathing synchronized, our hands intertwined.

We decided not to enter the spirit realm, trying to keep our energies focused here, in the physical world.

Attempting to coax a dragon out of oneself was not a task taken lightly, nor was it one attempted often.

It was said that to do so required balancing on the knife edge between control and surrender, for the dragon was not a beast easily summoned or tamed.

With each breath, I felt the ebb and flow of my energy, the familiar surge of my spirit animals, each trying to break free.

The powerful tiger, the cunning octopus, and the graceful hawk each took their turns, morphing and shaping my essence, showing their forms like a dance in my mind's eye.

But there was another, lurking in the shadows, a sensation of immense power just beyond my reach.

The potential dragon.

Every time I felt the dragon's energy, it was like a tidal wave crashing inside of me.

The sensation was overwhelming — both exhilarating and terrifying.

My heartbeat thundered in my ears as the powerful tug threatened to consume me.

It felt like trying to hold onto a tornado, the raw energy spiraling and pulling away just when I thought I had a grasp on it.

Beside me, Ashale was also engaged in his own dance, his spirit animals manifesting and retreating, his face contorted in concentration.

Hours seemed to pass in a blur of emotions and energy.

Frustration, hope, determination, and desperation all took their turns, coloring our attempts with varying shades of urgency.

Again and again, we reached out to the elusive force within us, and again and again, we were left feeling empty-handed.

Finally, the strain became too much.

We both fell backward, our energies spent, our spirits exhausted.

The weight of our failure bore down on us, making every breath feel like a labor.

The room had grown warmer, the product of our exertions, and sweat coated our bodies, making the simple act of lying on the bed uncomfortable.

The soft light of dawn began to seep through the small window, casting a gentle glow that seemed at odds with the gravity of our situation.

I turned to face Ashale, his face reflecting the same mix of disappointment and resolve that I felt.

"We should try again," I whispered, my voice raspy with fatigue.

Ashale simply shook his head, his fingers brushing a strand of hair from my face. "We've been at it all night, Nova. If we couldn't do it then…"

I didn't need him to finish.

We both knew the weight of what lay ahead.

But then, in that moment of shared vulnerability, our lips met.

It was a kiss born from desperation, from the need to hold onto something beautiful in the face of so much uncertainty.

The sensation of his lips against mine was both soft and intense, the sweetness of him mixed with the bitterness of our impending fate.

I felt his hand cradle my face, deepening the kiss, pulling me into him as if trying to merge our very souls.

Tears stung my eyes as the weight of our situation pressed down on me once more.

This might be the last time, the last moment we shared like this.

Yet, despite the looming threat of separation, our shared embrace was a testament to the depth of our connection, and to the power of love in the face of adversity.

As we broke apart, our breaths ragged and our hearts pounding in unison, I allowed myself to truly feel, to savor the intensity of the moment.

The blend of happiness and sadness was bittersweet, but I held onto the former, focusing on the strength of our bond.

In the midst of despair, Ashale and I had found a sanctuary in each other's arms, a fleeting moment of bliss that, regardless of the outcome, would forever remain etched in my heart.

I pulled him on top of me, and together, we made love.