7. Tix

The walk to the Prize Pool was a mixture of emotions.

My arm securely around Grace's waist, I could feel the rhythm of her heartbeat against my side.

It was intoxicating.

The path was familiar, but today, everything felt different.

The soft hum of the prison's life support systems sang a different tune, and the artificial lighting overhead felt a little brighter.

"It won't be long now," Grace whispered, her words filled with both optimism and sadness.

Her words held truth.

Every time she entered the Prize Pool, there was the danger of another claiming her.

The idea sent a fierce surge of protectiveness through me, along with a tang of jealousy.

The sour taste lingered, but I swallowed it down, focusing on the present.

Stopping a few feet from the entrance, I turned to face her.

I bent slightly to capture her lips with mine.

The kiss was soft, full of promise, its aroma vaguely sweet.

Pulling back, I rested my forehead against hers, taking in the sound of our combined breaths. "I can't wait to see you again, Grace. Every moment without you feels like an eternity."

She laughed, the sound light and musical, sending pleasant shivers down my spine. "You have quite the way with words for an inmate. I feel the same. I'm counting on our plan, Tix. We have to make it work."

Nodding, I released her reluctantly, watching as she moved closer to the Prize Pool entrance.

Her departure was always the hardest part, watching her walk away, not knowing what the next day would bring.

Today, there was an added weight, an added expectation.

I watched her silhouette fade, my senses still tingling from our recent embrace.

Turning away, I felt a sudden surge of elation.

It was as if the universe had finally aligned in my favor.

Not only had I found my fated mate in the most unlikely of places, but she held the key, quite literally, to our escape.

The weight of the years I'd spent in Ikmal seemed to lift a little, replaced by hope and excitement for the future.

The hallways of the prison, usually cold and oppressive, felt different.

I could hear the murmurs of other inmates, their conversations carrying hints of envy and admiration.

News traveled fast in Ikmal.

My victory in the pits, my claim over Grace — it was all anyone could talk about.

Yet, amidst the chatter and the usual sounds of prison life, there was another melody — a soft, melodious tune that only I could hear.

It was the song of freedom, of a future outside these walls, with Grace by my side.

I couldn't help but replay the moments with Grace in my mind, drawing strength from our shared determination.

With each step I took, the dream of a future outside Ikmal became more tangible.

For the first time in what felt like forever, I wasn't just a prisoner of Ikmal; I was its potential conqueror.

With Grace by my side, the impossible seemed within reach.

And as the lights dimmed, signaling the beginning of another night cycle in the prison, my heart was light, filled with dreams of tomorrow.

* * *

The routineof prison life continued.

Stepping into the commons, the cacophony of voices and the clank of prison-issued trays hit me first.

"Tix!"

The voice belonged to Mirek, a tall, lanky Aridian with blueish skin and three eyes.

He approached me, tentatively holding out a small pouch filled with credits. "For the dreams," he murmured. "You've been a real lifesaver."

The weight of the pouch in my hand was familiar.

Since discovering my abilities as a dreamwalker, I'd been helping many prisoners with their nightmares, a service for which they willingly paid.

The coolness of the credits was reassuring, even if their use was limited within the confines of the prison.

"You've been having them less frequently," I noted, referring to Mirek's nightmares.

He nodded, relief evident in his three eyes. "Thanks to you."

Next, a cluster of prisoners approached, their eager faces familiar. "Tix, who are you betting on today? And are you entering the pits again?" Dalgor, the most talkative of the bunch, asked.

Dalgor and his group liked to bet on pit fights, always looking for an inside scoop.

With my recent reputation in the pits and my occasional foresight in betting, I was their best source of information.

Taking a bite of the food — the fish-nut taste hitting my taste buds simultaneously — I pondered for a moment. "I'll be entering the pits today," I began, relishing the intrigued expressions on their faces. "As for winning, it all depends on my opponents."

Murmurs of anticipation rose among the group.

I was a new Champion and one that might just be worth betting on if yesterday was anything to go by.

Korvin, another prisoner, hesitantly approached, holding out a small container.

Appetizing Nylla fruit wafted towards me, a rare treat in Ikmal. "For helping me last night," he said, keeping his voice low, gratitude apparent.

"Thank you, Korvin," I replied, taking the container.

The smooth, soft skin of the fruit felt cool against my fingertips.

Biting into it, the juicy sweetness burst in my mouth, momentarily transporting me to memories of my home planet.

Throughout the day, many more approached me — some for help with their nightmares, some to place their bets, and others to offer their thanks in the form of credits or rare food items.

The constant hum of conversations, the varying textures of different foods, the cool touch of credits, and the myriad of spices from the diverse cuisine of the galaxy provided a sensory overload.

It was all part of the daily rhythm in Ikmal.

As I navigated the narrow corridors of Ikmal, a familiar sight caught my attention.

Uhah, his withered skin pale with a slight yellow tint — a telltale sign of illness specific to his species — was seated on the floor.

Every time I saw him, a pang of guilt washed over me; he bore a constant look of sorrow and exhaustion.

His frailty seemed to weigh on him, but his eyes, clouded with memories, always gleamed with intelligence.

Approaching him, I noticed his breathing was more labored than usual, the shallow rise and fall of his chest signaling his distress.

"Some of us deserve the pain," he murmured, seemingly lost in his thoughts as he gazed off into the distance.

Those words held more weight than any of his previous musings.

I had often wondered if Uhah's endless nightmares were a product of his guilt.

"Uhah," I began, trying to keep my voice gentle, "is there anything I can do to ease your suffering?"

I saw his long fingers tremble slightly, another distinct symptom of his deteriorating condition.

He offered me a weak smile. "You've asked me that many times, Tix, and you already know the answer."

There was a truth in his response, a truth that stemmed from his own past and his beliefs about redemption.

I could just ask him right now, ask him about the secret exit built into Ikmal… but the words died on my lips.

It was just too risky.

Prod him and he might conceal the truth from me when I finally managed to break through his defenses.

The distant sound of inmates murmuring and the buzz of overhead lights added to the ambiance of tension.

He sighed deeply, his breath sounding raspy and dry.

The sound resonated in the quiet of the corridor. "I'm tired, Tix," he admitted, his voice barely above a whisper. "Every day, the weight of memories grows heavier."

I reached out, placing my hand gently on his shoulder, feeling the cool, papery thinness of his skin. "I'm sure things will get better," I said. "Soon."

He hesitated for a moment, then nodded weakly. "Maybe… but not today. I feel weary. I think I'll take a nap."

Glancing at the chronometer on the wall, I noticed the time — 2 p.m.

Regular as clockwork.

It was almost as if Uhah's internal system had set itself to the rhythms of the prison.

"I'll leave you to rest," I said, stepping back, my heart heavy with a mix of hope and concern.

The sight of Uhah, so fragile yet so vital to our plan, was a stark reminder of the urgency of our mission.

If we failed to escape, our fate would be identical to his; dying from some illness when we were old and at our most vulnerable.

Walking away, my thoughts drifted back to Grace, the shared promise of escape, and the looming challenge ahead.

We had to act swiftly.

The consistent cycles of Uhah's health and memory were a double-edged sword.

If we didn't tread carefully, the key to our freedom might be lost forever in the labyrinth of his mind.

Ending my day with renewed determination, one thought echoed in my mind:

We need to act fast, or the secret door will remain a secret, and me and Grace will never escape.