8. Grace

The hum of the machines resonated around me, juxtaposed with the odor of industrial-grade detergent and the faint odor of unwashed clothes.

There was a slight dampness in the air, making it feel heavier as I moved through the Prize Pool's laundry room.

"Grace," Beva, another Prize, sighed exasperatedly, her slender fingers pointing at the huge pile awaiting us. "Look at all this! It's endless."

Rubbing my temples to fend off the mounting stress, I mumbled:

"We'll get through it. We always do."

I could feel the coarse texture of the laundry bags as I began sorting the clothes, categorizing them by color and material.

It wasn't just the sorting that bothered me; it was the state of the garments.

Many of the negligees, once silky and soft, now lay torn and frayed.

A pink one, which reminded me of something I might have worn back on Earth, was now tainted with splotches of a deep red — unmistakably blood.

I tried not to think about the events that led to such stains, focusing instead on the cleaning.

Other pieces were marked with strange, alien-looking substances — thick and gooey residues of uncertain origin.

The vibrant colors of these garments were overshadowed by the stains, and I couldn't help but wrinkle my nose at the unfamiliar, and sometimes foul, odors emanating from them.

Trying to shake off my revulsion, I reminded myself of the task at hand.

"I don't even want to know where half of these stains come from," I remarked, trying to lighten the mood.

Beva chuckled, a sound that was melodious yet tinged with the same weariness I felt. "Some mysteries are better left unsolved, dear."

The clinking of the buttons against the washing drum was a steady rhythm, providing a backdrop to our work.

It was therapeutic in a way, lulling me into a state of automation as I methodically went about my task.

Occasionally, the clang of the laundry door would echo, signaling another Prize dropping off their load.

Time seemed to blur, with only the changing levels of laundry piles as an indication of its passage.

A sudden thought struck me, and I quickly glanced at the wall-mounted clock.

My heart raced.

It was already 2 pm.

"Beva," I whispered urgently, "I need to finish this quickly. I have someone… something important waiting."

Her almond-shaped eyes glanced at the remaining load and then back at me. "What could possibly be more important than laundry?"

I bit my lower lip, trying not to smile.

Beva was one of the few Prizes I felt I could trust, but in Ikmal, it was better to keep secrets close to your chest.

She sighed, her expression softening. "All right, let's speed things up. Hand me those stained ones. I've got a trick or two up my sleeve."

Beva's fingers danced over the garments, her species' unique ability to manipulate and alter matter coming forward.

Within minutes, the pieces were restored, looking as good as new.

I watched in amazement.

The final pile seemed manageable now, and with Beva's help, I was making good time.

The rhythmic sloshing of the washing machines and the buzz of the dryers became our soundtrack as we powered through.

Despite our progress, I could feel the weight of time pressing down on me.

Each tick of the clock echoed loudly in my ears, a constant reminder of the ever-narrowing window I had left.

As the last load went into the dryer, I wiped my sweaty brow and took a deep breath.

The laundry room's atmosphere felt even thicker now.

I was cutting it close.

Too close.

With the laundry done, I rushed to freshen up, splashing cold water on my face.

The sensation was refreshing, helping clear my mind and rejuvenate my tired body.

I caught a glimpse of my reflection — flushed cheeks, determined eyes.

As I stepped out, ready to face whatever came next, a lingering doubt settled in my heart.

Was I really ready to do this?

To try and escape Ikmal prison?

I wasn't sure.

And the uncertainty weighed heavily as I made my way forward.

* * *

The Prize Poolhad become my reluctant sanctuary.

I might be a prisoner, but at least here, I had moments of peace.

The rhythmic breathing of my fellow Prizes filled the dorm room.

It's not every day you saw an alien hanging upside down from the ceiling, snoring in a high-pitched shrill that I'd come to recognize as a sign of deep, restful sleep.

Another one curled in a ball on the floor, her six appendages twitching slightly as she dreamt.

The various scents that wafted through the room painted a vivid picture of intergalactic coexistence.

The tangy smell of Yalrina's scales, the sweet musk of Plim's fur, and the ever-so-faint odor of the flowers that sprouted from Livi's skin each night.

I slowly nestled into a comfortable position; my head cradled on a plush, aromatic pillow filled with some sort of relaxing herb.

A calming lullaby seemed to play in my ears, emanating from the soft humming of one of the Prizes.

As fatigue tugged at my eyelids, I felt the velvety darkness of sleep envelop me.

My senses tingled, like the gentle caress of cold water, as I plunged into the depths of the dreamworld.

No sooner had I found my footing in this ephemeral realm than I was in the fighting pits.

This version of the pits, however, was different than its physical counterpart.

It lacked the sharp tang of sweat and blood, replaced by a more neutral aroma, a blank canvas ready for creation.

"You're late," a familiar voice called out, tinged with playful reproach.

Turning, I found Tix leaning against a pillar, his piercing eyes locked onto mine.

His presence in the dreamworld always seemed sharper, more vivid, a juxtaposition against the nebulous surroundings.

I approached him, the sensation of the dreamworld's ground beneath my feet like walking on a cloud, soft yet strangely solid. "I'm sorry," I sighed, "the chores just piled up today."

Tix raised a brow, the corners of his lips twitching into a slight smile. "Busy with the laundry, were you? It's all right. We have a lot to cover."

"Are we going into Uhah's dream today?" I inquired, a hint of impatience in my voice.

The idea of accessing someone's nightmares was both frightening and fascinating, and I couldn't help but be curious.

Tix's expression became more serious. "No," he said firmly. "You're not ready for that yet. Going into someone's nightmare, especially one as intense as Uhah's, is not a stroll in your Earth park."

I could taste the metallic hint of disappointment on my tongue, bitter and sharp.

However, before I could reply, Tix continued:

"That doesn't mean we won't be training. Are you ready to learn?"

Nodding, I steeled myself for what lay ahead.

The atmosphere around us shifted the ever-present incense of neutrality now infused with an electric charge, the anticipation before a storm.

"What's the plan for today?" I asked, eyes searching the vastness of the pits for any indication.

Tix took a deep breath, and I felt a subtle vibration underfoot, like the low rumble of distant thunder.

The ground shifted and contorted, reshaping itself.

Before us, the pit had transformed into a sprawling assault course divided into three distinct sections.

The first section was an intricate maze, its walls shifting and moving constantly.

The second consisted of a series of platforms suspended over a vast chasm, each platform moving and rotating on its own axis.

The final section resembled a forest, with trees that seemed to breathe, their branches reaching out as if trying to grab anyone who ventured too close.

The sections kept morphing, changing, as if Tix was god himself, capable of bending the dreamworld to his will.

The very sight was daunting, a blend of Earthly obstacle courses and something much stranger.

I could feel the weight of the challenge ahead, the course seeming to taunt me with its complexity.

"This," Tix began, his voice filled with a teacher's patience, "is where we begin. Each section is designed to test, push, and to prepare you. Our escape won't just involve navigating Uhah's mind but also the very real physical challenges that lie ahead."

I nodded, determination flooding my veins. "Let's get started."

Tix grinned, his teeth gleaming white against the backdrop of the dreamworld. "That's the spirit. Now, follow me."

And as I took a step forward, ready to tackle whatever the dreamworld threw my way, I felt a profound sense of purpose.

I was ready to train, to learn, and, most importantly, to escape.

* * *

Tix stoodat the entrance of the assault course, a creation from his mind that seemed as tangible as the world outside.

His posture was that of a seasoned instructor, ready to mentor his student.

"The dreamworld can be a malleable place, Grace," Tix began, his voice echoing with authority. "You need to be familiar with how it behaves, how to bend it to your will, and most importantly, how to prevent it from breaking you. This assault course is your initiation."

The soft touch of dreamworld mist kissed my skin, leaving a chilly residue.

Walking up to the first section, Tix explained, "First, you need to understand how to transform the world around you."

With a wave of his hand, the environment began to shift.

The walls of the maze became translucent, and the suspended platforms over the chasm changed into stepping stones on a serene lake.

"It's not as easy as it looks," he continued, his fingers curling as if holding onto a string. "This world resists change, fights against it. You have to not only command it but also negotiate with it."

As he said this, the maze's walls started pulsating, and the lake's water rumbled, causing the stepping stones to shake.

I took a deep breath, feeling the challenge weighing on me.

"Okay," I began, my voice quivering, "let me try."

Focusing on the maze, I willed the walls to move.

For a moment, I felt a pushback, like trying to mold clay that's too hard.

Then, slowly, with all the mental strength I could muster, the walls began to shift.

It was as if I was wrestling with the very fabric of the dream.

However, the strain was immense.

The more I forced the dreamworld to comply, the harder it fought back.

Every change I made was met with resistance, and within moments, the scene before me snapped back to its original state.

The soft whisper of the maze walls shifting, the almost silent hum of the platforms — all returned to their initial forms, defying my attempt to dominate them.

Panting, I turned to Tix, frustration evident in my eyes. "Why can't I maintain the changes?"

Tix approached, placing a reassuring hand on my shoulder.

His touch was warm, grounding me amidst the chaos of the ever-shifting dreamworld. "It's not just about forcing change, Grace. You have to find a balance. If you push too hard, the dream rebels, and everything reverts. If you alter it too drastically, the dreamer senses something's off, which can lead to the dreamer waking up. It's a delicate dance."

I nodded, taking in his words. "So, it's not just about power but also finesse."

"Exactly," he said with a proud smile, "and with time, you'll master it."

I could hear the distant chime of a dreamworld clock, a reminder that our time here was finite.

I wanted to use every second wisely.

"Again?" I asked, determination evident in my voice.

Tix chuckled, the sound rich and melodious, "Again."

As we delved deeper into the intricacies of the dream realm, I felt a connection not just to this fantastical world but also to Tix.

Every moment we spent together strengthened our bond.

We were not just prisoners trying to escape; we were two souls intertwined by fate, navigating the challenges of the dreamworld side by side.

* * *

The second sectionof the assault course was open and expansive, a flat terrain stretching out under a dreamy, twilight sky.

Its serenity was at odds with the complex maze of the first section, and I felt both calm and curious.

As Tix and I approached, I took a moment to marvel at the dream sky.

It was a tapestry of deep purples and soft blues, dotted with shimmering stars that left trails of silver dust.

I could hear the soft whistle of dream wind, carrying with it burning embers and night-blooming jasmine.

Tix turned to me, eyes glinting with mischief. "This section, Grace, is about transforming oneself. The dreamworld doesn't just respond to external commands. It can also mirror your internal desires, amplifying them to manifest physical changes."

I squinted at him, not entirely understanding. "So, I can … become anything?"

"In essence, yes. Remember, the dreamworld demands balance. Your transformation should not only reflect your desires but also resonate with the realm."

Before I could ask further, Tix took a step back, extending his arms wide.

Then, with a swift movement, he pulled them back as if drawing an invisible string.

When I blinked, I saw him holding a bow, the string taut, an arrow nocked and ready.

Without a word, Tix released the arrow.

It soared high, leaving a fiery trail in its wake.

As it reached the peak of its trajectory, there was a blinding explosion, and the fire arrow transformed into a majestic dragon.

Its scales shimmered in hues of gold and crimson, and its wings, vast and powerful, flapped with grace, sending gusts of warm, spicy-scented wind in every direction.

The sound was a deep, resonant rumble, a mix of a roar and a purr, echoing through the vastness of the dream realm.

I felt the heat on my face as the dragon swooped down, its enormous wings casting shadows over the empty seats of the arena.

Its presence was awe-inspiring, yet there was an underlying warmth and familiarity to it.

I realized that the dragon was a reflection of Tix's inner self — strong, protective, yet gentle and kind.

"That was… incredible," I managed to say, my voice filled with awe.

Tix smiled, his chest heaving slightly from the exertion. "Your turn, Grace. Remember, it's about balance and resonance. Let your innermost desires guide your transformation."

Taking a deep breath, I closed my eyes, focusing on my innermost desires.

Thoughts of freedom, love, and adventure swirled inside me.

I envisioned myself soaring through the skies, feeling the wind rush past me, exploring uncharted territories.

With that vivid imagery in my mind, I felt a change.

The ground beneath my feet seemed to slip away, and the cool night air kissed my skin.

Opening my eyes, I found myself high above the arena, wings spread wide.

I had transformed into a giant, iridescent bird.

The sensation was exhilarating.

I could hear the powerful beat of my wings, and the world below looked tiny and distant.

Tix, looking up, cheered. "Beautiful, Grace! Just remember to stay in control."

I was already losing myself to the freedom of the skies.

The pull of the dream was strong, and for a few moments, I forgot about the task at hand, about the assault course, and about Tix.

Suddenly, a sharp twinge of pain jolted me back to reality.

My transformation was dissipating, and I found myself plummeting back to the arena.

The fast-approaching ground smelled of freshly turned earth, and I braced myself for impact.

Just inches from the ground, strong arms encircled me, halting my fall.

Tix had caught me, his grip firm yet gentle.

Our eyes met, and I could see a mix of relief and concern in his.

"Always remember," he whispered, his breath warm against my ear, "the dreamworld is seductive, losing yourself in it can be dangerous."

I nodded, my heart still racing from the thrill and the near miss.

As we made our way to the third section of the course, I felt a renewed sense of determination.

With Tix by my side, guiding me through the complexities of the dream realm, I felt invincible.

And deep down, I knew that together, we would find that elusive secret exit and finally get free of this place.

* * *

The final sectionof the assault course was a stark, empty space, nothing like the vibrancy of the previous sections.

At first glance, it looked like a barren desert, devoid of any signs of life, stretching out infinitely under an empty sky.

The soft, golden sand beneath my feet felt oddly comforting, its fine grains slipping through my toes as the gentle wind caressed my skin with a whisper of a melody.

The air was filled with roses in bloom.

Despite the vastness and isolation of the landscape, I couldn't shake off the feeling that it mirrored the reality outside the dream realm.

Tix stopped and turned to face me. "This, Grace, is where we confront the heart of the dreamworld."

I glanced around, slightly puzzled. "But there's… nothing here."

"Exactly," he replied with a soft smile. "This section is about understanding and accepting the intangible nature of the dreamworld. All that you see, feel, hear, taste, and smell here — it's all a mirage. Illusory."

I frowned, still trying to grasp the concept. "But the dreamworld mirrors our reality, doesn't it? So how can it be unreal?"

Tix took a moment to find the right words. "The dreamworld does reflect our reality, but it's a distortedreflection. Like looking into a magic mirror. While it might resemble the real world, anything that happens here doesn't directly impact reality. Imagine reading a book — just because you experience the emotions and adventures of the characters doesn't mean those events are happening in the real world."

I tried to understand, letting his words sink in.

The cool breeze around us carried the soft hum of distant memories, and I closed my eyes, letting the sensations wash over me. "So, even if we train here, even if we prepare ourselves in this dream realm, it won't matter in the real world?"

Tix hesitated, then nodded. "In a direct sense, yes. The knowledge, the skills, the emotional strength you gain here — those will remain with you when you wake. Think of it as mental training. The actions might be fictional, but the growth is real."

He paused, giving me a moment to process everything. "There is one exception. There are legends of dreamwalkers so powerful that they can blur the lines between dreams and reality. Their actions in the dreamworld have real consequences in the waking world. That kind of power is rare and far beyond our abilities."

I looked into the horizon, where the golden sands seemed to merge with the azure sky.

The beauty of the dreamworld was enchanting, but Tix's words were a sobering reminder of its transient nature.

"But Tix," I began, "if none of this is real, why does it feel so… tangible? I mean, I can touch the sand, I can feel the wind, I can taste the air."

He stepped closer, his deep eyes holding a universe of wisdom. "Because, Grace, our minds are powerful. They take these fragments of reality and weave them into a cohesive experience. In dreams, our senses are heightened, emotions amplified. It's essential to remember that while the experience might feel real, the dreamworld itself is not."

As I tried to wrap my head around the concept, a sudden realization struck me. "Tix, if everything here is illusory, how do I know you're real? How do I know our connection, our bond, isn't just a figment of my imagination?"

Tix reached out, taking my hands in his.

The warmth of his touch felt real, solid.

His voice was soft yet firm. "The dreamworld might be a mirage, Grace, but emotions, connections, bonds — those transcend realms. Our bond, the love and trust we share, is as real as it gets. Whether in the waking world or the dream realm, that will never change."

His words were a balm to my anxious heart, and I leaned into him, seeking comfort in his embrace.

The world around us might be an illusion, but the feelings we share are genuine.

Unbreakable.

* * *

The groundof the obstacle course seemed to thrum with anticipation beneath my feet.

Everything around me was amplified — the soft glow of the ambient lighting, the low hum in the distance.

Tix gave me a reassuring nod from the sidelines.

I steeled myself, focusing on the first obstacle, a shimmering portal that seemed to beckon me with its pulsating light.

As I stepped into it, the world around me turned molten, and I felt a searing heat envelop me.

Panic surged through my veins as my body vaporized in flames.

Just as I felt the world slipping away, a force yanked me out of the portal and into safety.

Gasping for breath, I felt the strong grip of Tix's hands on my arms, steadying me. "Easy, Grace," he murmured, concern evident in his eyes. "It felt real, didn't it?"

I nodded, shivering despite the warmth of the dreamworld's atmosphere. "It felt… it felt like I was really burning," I whispered, still shaking from the sensation.

Tix's laughter broke through my daze. "Welcome to the dreamworld's assault course! Every sensation here is heightened. But remember, it's not real. It's your mind making you believe it is."

I frowned, taking a moment to calm my racing heart. "Why does it feel so real then?"

"Because our minds are powerful interpreters," Tix said. "They bridge the gap between what's real and what's not. Here, in the dreamworld, they amplify every sensation."

Taking a deep breath, I looked back at the shimmering portal.

Determined, I tried the obstacle again, only to be met with the sharpness of unseen blades, the sensation so acute that it felt like a thousand paper cuts.

And again, just as darkness encroached, Tix pulled me back to safety.

I sank to the ground, frustration evident on my face. "Why can't I get past it?"

Tix chuckled. "It's not about rushing through. It's about understanding. You need to believe, deep down, that this isn't real."

"Every time I try, it feels like I'm going to" I swallowed hard, "...die."

Tix's expression grew serious, and he knelt beside me. "Here's the thing, Grace," he began softly. "Die in the dreamworld, and you die in real life."

I stared at him in shock, trying to process what he had just said. "What do you mean? I thought it wasn't real?"

"It's not. If you don't learn this lesson, your mind will make it real. To those on the outside, it will look like you've fallen into a coma, unresponsive to the world around you," he explained. "It's rare but not unheard of. The dreamworld is a reflection of our fears, hopes, and desires. Sometimes, the line between this world and reality blurs. That's why it's crucial we do these drills."

A shiver ran down my spine, thinking about the implications. "Is there no way to wake someone up from such a coma?"

Tix shook his head. "Once the mind accepts the dreamworld as its reality, it's nearly impossible to bring it back."

I thought about our previous lessons about the illusory nature of the dreamworld. "So, how do I overcome this? How do I make sure I don't succumb to the dream?"

Tix smiled, his eyes glinting with a challenge. "By training. By understanding. By not letting fear dictate your actions. Every time you face an obstacle, remind yourself — this isn't real."

Feeling a renewed sense of determination, I got to my feet. "Let's do it again."

And we did, over and over, each time getting a bit further, each time learning a bit more.

With Tix's guidance and feedback, I began to decipher the patterns to predict the challenges.

Every time I faltered, every time the heat or the blades felt too real, Tix was there, pulling me back, reminding me of the stakes.

Hours seemed to pass in the blink of an eye.

Sometimes I managed to pass the first stage of manipulating the dreamworld, sometimes I didn't.

Other times, I passed the second stage of shifting myself — I seemed to find this the easiest part — but no matter how hard I tried, I couldn't complete the third stage.

The dreamworld just felt too real.

Collapsing into Tix's arms, I felt disappointed.

"You did great," Tix whispered, his voice filled with pride.

"I didn't complete all the sections," I whined.

"No, but you have made great progress. We can't become expert dreamwalkers in just a few hours."

As we walked away from the assault course, hand in hand, I felt a deep sense of gratitude for Tix, for his patience, his guidance, and most importantly, for teaching me the most valuable lesson of all — the power of belief.

* * *

The hazy afterglowof our dreamworld training still lingered as we sat together, our hands interlaced.

We only had minutes remaining together, and I wanted to spend them all studying his face.

The vast pit stretched out before us, its virtual sands untouched and serene.

The pressing reality of the upcoming battles in the pit began to weigh on my mind.

"Tix," I began hesitantly, "how are we supposed to help you with your pit battles today?"

He sighed, his usually confident eyes clouded with uncertainty. "The battles will take place in a few hours, Grace. Most of my opponents aren't asleep right now, which means we can't sneak into their dreams and uncover their weaknesses."

I frowned, recalling the first time I'd seen Tix battle in the pits, how he'd danced around his adversaries with the grace of a feline, anticipating every move. "So, what does that mean for you?"

"It means," he said, taking a deep breath, "I'll have to fight like any other warrior to be able to claim you tonight."

That very thought sent shivers down my spine.

The pits were unpredictable; one wrong move and everything could go awry.

The warmth of Tix's hand felt reassuring, but it also reminded me of how much was at stake.

"Before coming to Ikmal, I fought many times without the advantage of dreamwalking. I can handle myself," he said, as if reading my mind.

I looked at him, my heart heavy with worry. "What if you get hurt, Tix?"

His gaze met mine, filled with a fierceness that took my breath away. "I won't let that happen."

A chill ran down my spine, bringing forth another fear, one I'd been pushing away since our time together began. "And what if… what if you don't win? What if I get claimed by someone else?"

His grip tightened around my hand, and he pulled me closer. "Listen to me," he whispered, his voice raw with emotion. "I will do everything in my power to make sure that doesn't happen. I won't let anyone else have you."

A rush of emotions swept over me.

The pungent aroma of the dreamworld's rare blossoms wafted around us, reminding me of the countless times we'd wandered through its realms.

"But Tix," I murmured, my voice catching, "the pit is so dangerous. There are so many warriors, some even stronger than you."

He touched my face, his fingers cool and soothing. "Grace, every time I step into that pit, it's with one goal in mind: to be with you. That gives me a strength that no other warrior possesses."

The melodious calls of dreamworld birds echoed in the distance, their sweet songs easing the unease bubbling within me.

The softness of Tix's touch, the gentle press of his fingers against my cheek, grounded me amidst the whirlwind of emotions.

"Promise me," I whispered, leaning into his embrace, "promise me you'll come back to me."

Tix leaned down, his lips brushing against my forehead.

The sensation sent shivers throughout my body, the warmth of his breath mingling with the coolness of the dream realm. "I promise," he murmured, sealing the vow with a gentle kiss.

As we parted and prepared to return to the waking world, the weight of the upcoming battles settled heavily on my shoulders.

The dreamworld's sights and sounds faded, replaced by the harsh reality of Ikmal and the looming pit battles.

The uncertainty of what lay ahead left a bitter taste in my mouth.

Would Tix successfully claim me?

Or would Fate have other plans?

As the dreamworld receded and the familiar confines of the Prize Pool took its place, I couldn't help but feel fear.

And that emotion, unlike anything in the dreamworld, I knew to be real and genuine.