16. Grace

The iridescent shimmer of the Prize Pool glinted around me, the reflective water casting prismatic light in every direction.

My mind was a whirlwind, replaying the events of Uhah's dream over and over.

The third test — it was deceptively simple, yet so baffling.

I took a deep breath and let it out slowly.

What were we missing? I mused.

The memory of that room, with its haunting replay of Uhah's conversation, the turntable, and the shadows of past decisions, loomed large in my mind.

The answer lay there, hidden in plain sight, a mystery we had yet to unravel.

I knew that both Tix and I had the capabilities to solve it, but we were hitting a wall.

The frustration was evident in Tix's eyes every time we talked about it.

He was in the pits today, his very life on the line.

Unfortunately, word had spread rapidly amongst the prisoners about Tix's ability.

It was said he somehow had an uncanny knowledge of his opponents' deepest, darkest fears and then used it to his advantage.

Every clash in the pits was a test of strength, skill, and wit.

Fighters always had a strategy, a game plan.

But Tix?

He was rewriting the rules.

By tapping into their fears, he turned battles into psychological warfare, transforming the pits from a gladiatorial arena to a mind game.

They didn't know the truth of how he was able to do such a feat, but it was only a matter of time before they did.

And that would end his advantage.

I decided to watch one of his matches in the holo-monitor that floated above the pits.

The screen displayed Tix in the arena, facing a formidable-looking opponent.

This creature, almost double Tix's size, had thick scales and razor-sharp talons.

At first glance, it looked like a mismatch.

However, as the fight began, Tix's eyes seemed to pierce through his opponent's tough exterior.

It was as if he was looking deep into the creature's soul.

The beast lunged, but Tix sidestepped, whispering something inaudible.

The beast froze, its confident demeanor suddenly shattered.

Fear was evident in its eyes.

The crowd was in an uproar, unable to comprehend the turn of events.

Still, I understood.

Tix had unraveled the creature's fear, using it as his weapon.

I could hear the murmurs around me, prisoners discussing Tix's prowess, his uncanny ability to defeat foes not with strength but with insight.

Watching him, I felt a surge of pride.

Yet, a twinge of worry nagged at the back of my mind.

Using such a power could be draining.

How much longer could Tix sustain this?

As the match concluded with Tix emerging victorious once more, I let out a sigh of relief.

He looked tired but triumphant.

The pit, which once symbolized danger, had now become a testament to Tix's unparalleled skill and intuition.

As the fight ended, the holo-monitor turned black and my thoughts returned to Uhah's puzzle.

If Tix could figure out the deepest fears of his opponents, surely, together, we could solve the riddle of that room.

We had faced challenges before, and every time we had emerged stronger, closer.

We had to solve the mystery of Uhah's third defense.

It was the only way either of us was going to survive this place.

* * *

The atmospherein the arena was electric.

A mixture of dread and excitement hung thickly in the air, suffocating every breath.

The cacophony of the spectators grew louder as the much-anticipated finale drew near.

This was the battle everyone had been waiting for — Tix versus Fleth.

I tried to keep my composure as I watched from the sidelines, but my heart raced like a frenzied drumbeat.

Flashbacks of Fleth's nightmare washed over me.

The scene of the young boy, terror in his eyes as molten lava consumed everything in its path, the desperate attempts of his mother to save him, only to meet a tragic end in the river — it was haunting.

I could still feel the stifling heat, hear the tormented screams.

Fleth's past was a tragedy, one that had shaped him into the ruthless fighter he was today.

The trauma of that memory, the guilt of survival while his mother perished, must have been overwhelming.

As much as I abhorred him for the things he'd done, there was an undeniable tinge of sympathy I felt for his younger self.

This wasn't the time for empathy.

This was the climax of a deadly dance, and Tix had to win.

The arena's colossal doors slid open, revealing the two contenders.

Tix walked out with a confident swagger, his eyes locked onto Fleth, a silent challenge.

The audience went berserk, their cheers echoing through the vast space.

The battle commenced with Fleth charging headfirst, a ball of fury and power.

Tix was prepared.

With nimble grace, he evaded Fleth's initial onslaught, reaching into his pocket to retrieve the cloth.

The same cloth that held the key to unlocking Fleth's buried trauma.

He threw it with precision, ensuring it landed squarely on Fleth's face.

For a moment, there was silence, punctuated only by Fleth's muffled laughter.

As he pulled the cloth away and saw its imprint, the laughter died.

A hush fell over the crowd.

Fleth's face contorted with a range of emotions, from shock to recognition to unbridled anger.

Instead of breaking down, he channeled that seething fury towards Tix.

Like a berserker, he charged, throwing every ounce of his strength and rage at my love.

However, anger, while powerful, is also blinding.

Fleth's usually calculated moves were sloppy, his tactics overshadowed by raw emotion.

Tix, on the other hand, maintained his composure.

Every dodge, every counter-attack was executed with precision, using Fleth's own momentum against him.

It was a masterclass of skill over strength, of calm over chaos.

And then, with a swift, decisive move, Tix had Fleth pinned to the ground.

The once-mighty titan of the arena was defeated, his humiliation magnified by the laughter and jeers of the audience.

Above, the massive holo-monitors displayed the scene in crystal clarity, zooming into Fleth's face.

That expression — it was one of profound rage and despair, still haunted by his early memories.

Those eyes, which had seen so much pain, now bore into Tix with an intensity that sent shivers down my spine.

The crowd's cheers were deafening, their jubilation sharply at odds with the defeated figure in the pit.

As I watched Fleth being escorted away, his every step weighed down by the weight of his past and his recent defeat, I couldn't shake off a sense of foreboding.

There was something in that look, something beyond the anguish of a lost fight.

It spoke of vendettas, of long-held grudges, and promises of retribution.

And although Tix had emerged victorious today, I couldn't help but feel that this chapter was far from over.

As the arena lights dimmed and the crowd started to disperse, I held onto one thought: we hadn't seen the last of Fleth.

Not by a long shot.

* * *

The resounding echoesof the crowd's applause still hung in the air as Tix began his ascent to the Prize Pool.

The Champion's Song, a timeless melody, played over the loudspeakers, signifying the victory of a true champion.

It was a tune I had heard countless times before, a harmonious anthem dedicated to the unparalleled prowess of the victor.

Yet, today, it felt different.

It was as if there was an underlying note, a silent whisper in the composition that tugged at the very edge of my memory.

The stairs leading to the Prize Pool were lit up, creating a luminous pathway for the triumphant warrior.

Each step Tix took was synchronized with the beats of the song.

Watching him, a rush of pride surged through me, not just for his win but for everything we had been through together.

However, that sentiment was momentarily overshadowed as a spark of realization flashed in my mind.

The song!

As the notes played, I found myself instinctively counting the beats.

It was a habit I'd developed during my time in the Prize Pool — analyzing patterns, seeking the rhythm in everything.

Today, that innate sense of timing struck a chord.

The Champion's Song wasn't complete.

It seemed to halt abruptly, leaving a sense of anticipation, an awaiting resolution.

It clicked.

The memory of the third level of Uhah's dream, the scene at the table, the backwards conversation, the turntable… it was all about timing, about completing what was left unfinished.

Uhah's guilt, his inability to finish something, his compromise for personal gain all tied together with that turntable and the need for a proper ending.

As Tix reached the top step, the song was still playing, underscoring my realization.

My heart raced.

The anticipation, the excitement, the solution right at our fingertips — it was exhilarating.

I couldn't wait any longer.

Barely giving him time to step into the Prize Pool, I rushed forward, throwing my arms around him.

He looked startled, but that familiar, comforting warmth of his embrace enveloped me.

Burying my face into the crook of his neck, I whispered:

"I know the solution to the third level!"

For a moment, there was silence, the only sound being the dying notes of the Champion's Song.

Then, I felt him grin against my hair.

His voice, always a soothing balm, rumbled in his chest as he replied, "I knew you would!"

Holding me at arm's length, his golden eyes searched mine, seeking confirmation.

The raw pride and love mirrored in them made my heart skip a beat.

Here was a warrior, a gladiator who had just achieved a monumental victory, yet his joy in this moment was about our shared discovery.

"Come on," he said, his voice tinged with excitement. "Let's get to my cell and you can unravel the mystery."

Taking my hand, we made our way back.

Every step was a dance of anticipation, the weight of what we were about to do sinking in.

As we retraced our steps, the environment around us seemed to blur.

The jubilant crowd, the glowing lights, the sounds of celebration — they all faded into the background.

All that mattered was the challenge ahead and the knowledge that we were on the brink of deciphering it.

* * *

The dreamworldof Uhah's nightmares was becoming all too familiar.

The otherworldly sensation of being both present and not, knowing that everything around us was a construct of someone's mind, was a heady feeling.

As Tix and I ventured forth, we swiftly navigated the first two defenses.

The gate with its gargoyle riddle guardian that taunted with the concept of "Guilty," and then the grandfather clock, eternally marking time at 8:32.

The familiarity with which Tix moved through these defenses brought both pride and admiration to my heart.

We were a team, each filling the gaps left by the other.

However, it was the third defense that had thwarted us.

Once again, the room materialized with fragments of memories orbiting around, and the scene at the table began to play out, just as we remembered.

Uhah, looking almost youthful, sat in deep conversation with two otherworldly males.

The context, previously muddled, was now clear — a deal, a betrayal, and the offer of a bribe.

As the scene played, my attention wasn't on the ghostly figures this time.

It was on the vintage turntable at the side.

This device, which we'd used to reverse the conversation, was the key.

I approached it, noting the arm, the needle, and the record beneath.

It was spinning, playing out the memory, but my earlier revelation made me see it in a different light.

The needle was two-thirds of the way through the record.

Not at the beginning.

Not at the end.

Toward the end.

Recalling the time from the previous defense, I asked: "Tix, how long do you think this scene has been playing?"

He looked thoughtful for a moment, his gaze going from me to the turntable, then back again. "Five minutes? Maybe ten?" he hazarded.

I was certain. "This scene doesn't run for five or ten minutes," I said, a surge of excitement bubbling within me. "It runs for exactly eight minutes and thirty-two seconds."

He frowned. "What does that have to do with anything—"

His eyes widened in realization.

That eternal timestamp of 8:32 from the previous room.

Could it be?

With newfound determination, I gently lifted the needle, moving it just a fraction forward, closing the gap of those missing moments.

As it touched the groove, the scene jumped ahead.

Uhah was now standing, a look of contemplation on his face, before he decisively shook hands with the two male creatures.

The weight of his decision was evident.

The scene held for a moment before freezing, the figures turning into statues of the past.

The record, having played its part, now reached its end, signifying the conclusion of the memory.

But, most importantly, the door at the back of the room, the one that had always remained resolutely shut, now slid open, revealing the path to the next defense.

The satisfaction of the moment was palpable.

Tix's gaze met mine, his eyes shining with pride and amazement.

Before I knew it, he closed the distance between us, capturing my lips in a searing kiss.

It was a kiss of gratitude, of admiration, of the deep bond that we shared.

Pulling back slightly, he whispered:

"You are incredible."

I smiled, feeling a blush warm my cheeks. "We do make a good team."

Hand in hand, we approached the now-open door, ready to face the next challenge that lay ahead.

Whatever awaited us, we would conquer it, together.

And as we stepped into stage four, I felt an overwhelming sense of hope.

We had faced some of Uhah's deepest fears and had come out stronger on the other side.

It was a testament to our bond and the power of teamwork.

With each challenge we overcame, our connection grew deeper, and I couldn't help but wonder what the future held for us.

For now, the present challenge beckoned, and we were ready.