1. Violet

The dimly lit hallways of the Prize Pool buzzed with an eerie silence.

At regular intervals, platforms emerged from the floor, each carrying a beautiful female from some corner of the universe.

Each of us, a "Prize," stood waiting, a mere commodity in this twisted game of claim and ownership.

The walls around me shimmered, translucent but solid.

Beyond them, the vast emptiness of space seemed to taunt us with its boundless freedom.

I looked around, taking in the sight of the other females.

Some stood with pride, their postures defiant, while others looked broken, their spirits seemingly crushed under the weight of their plight.

I had been here for two days.

Two days since my pleasant jog down empty country roads had turned into a nightmare.

The last thing I remembered before the blackout was the peculiar sight of the sky darkening rapidly, like ink spilled in water.

When I woke, I was here, in this alien environment, stripped of my freedom and identity.

Each day brought a new set of Champions, monstrous beings from the dark recesses of the universe, looking for a Prize to Claim.

They would saunter in, their steps echoing the cruel power they held, eyes scanning each platform with a predatory intensity.

Today was no different.

The grand doors of the Prize Pool opened, announcing the arrival of the latest Champion.

A hushed murmur spread among the females.

This wasn't just any Champion.

This was one that even the bravest among us hoped would not set their eyes upon them.

Towering over most other prisoners, he was a monstrous sight.

Scales, as dark as the void of space, covered his body.

Six bulbous eyes scanned the room, each eye reflecting a different shade of malice.

His mouth, if you could call it that, was a gaping maw of sharp, gleaming teeth.

But it was his reputation that preceded him — whispers of the cruel and unusual ways he treated the ones he Claimed.

As he stepped closer, a chill enveloped the room, the temperature dropping rapidly.

The atmosphere grew thick with tension, each of us hoping that we would go unnoticed.

Beside me, a young girl from Nebula 6 whispered to herself in an endless mantra:

"By the stars, please let him pass. Not me. Not today."

I felt a pang of sympathy.

She was younger than most of us, her bright blue skin shimmering with an ethereal glow, her eyes wide with fear.

One by one, the Champion moved from platform to platform, studying each female with a cold detachment.

Every so often, he'd pause, letting the tension build, before moving on to the next.

The room was suffocating, the weight of dread heavy in the air.

Holding my head high, I looked straight into his multitude of eyes.

There was a moment, a brief second, when I thought he might Claim me.

But then, as if disinterested, he moved on.

The Champion continued his evaluation, lingering longer at some platforms, discarding others with a mere glance.

Two days, and not once had I been Claimed.

Most females in the Prize Pool would have considered this a blessing.

But with each passing day, my uncertainty grew.

Was there something wrong with me?

Would I ever be chosen?

Was I destined to remain here, forever overlooked, never Claimed?

The fate of an Unclaimed Prize was even worse than that of one that had been chosen.

I had always believed that there was a reason for everything.

But now, trapped in this alien world, surrounded by the lost and the despairing, my faith was shaken.

I clung to the memories of my past, the laughter, the adventures, the sunsets, and reminded myself of what I was here to do.

* * *

It wasthe soft murmurings of the other Prizes that tipped me off.

Every morning, as a new set of fighters were announced, some of the females would subtly alter their appearance for whichever warrior they thought would win.

It wasn't just about putting on a brave face or standing tall, it was about literally shifting their forms to appeal to the tastes of the incoming Champions.

That's when it hit me:

Adaptation is the key!

Of course it was!

It was the key in just about every other field of life, so why not here?

I'd always been proud of my natural appearance, never feeling the need to change for anyone.

But these were desperate times.

The game was different here.

Being Claimed wasn't just about preserving one's dignity; it was about survival.

An idea began to form.

I wasn't a shapeshifter but that didn't mean I couldn't alter my appearance to better appeal to — or repel — the Champions.

Determination took over.

I consulted with the other females who had a much better idea of who was going to win in the pits each day.

When they told me it was likely to be Gnarlak, a Norixian, I had all the information I needed.

I closed my eyes and visualized what such a beast would find most attractive.

I imagined myself as otherworldly creatures, beings of beauty and allure.

I opened my eyes and looked at my imagined self in the mirror.

I grabbed the makeup the females used and painted my face in the traditional Norixian style.

I added sparkling diamond-like particles to my arms and legs so they twinkled and caught the light.

Then I moved for the wardrobes and carefully selected the color I thought a Norixian would respond to most.

I had to change clothes five times and alter my makeup until it was exactly the way I wanted it, but finally, I was done.

I looked myself in the mirror and thought that if I could grow a tail, I would look exactly like a mermaid.

The gasps and awed whispers from the females nearby confirmed it.

I had changed.

Thankfully, Gnarlak did win in the pits and I presented myself on my platform.

He had a slender body, long limbs, and a mesmerizing glow that changed colors with his emotions.

I turned my body left and right to catch the overhead lights, mimicking a female Norixian's skin when she was in heat and ready to mate.

I elongated my neck slightly, trying to match the ethereal beauty of the Norixian form.

As the Champion entered, a hush fell over the room.

He looked regal, his bioluminescent skin shifting between shades of azure and gold.

His eyes, clear and multifaceted like crystals, scanned the Prize Pool, taking in each one of us.

My heart remained calm as he approached.

With every step he took, I subtly shifted my appearance, heightening the glow, adjusting my form, and mimicking the fluid grace of his species.

It was working.

He seemed intrigued, his colors shifting rapidly — a sign of Norixian curiosity.

For the first time since my capture, I felt a glimmer of hope.

I wasn't just another Prize; I was the one he wanted.

The Norixian reached out a delicate hand, letting it hover just inches from my transformed face, as if feeling the energy I emitted.

Our eyes locked, and in that moment, a silent understanding passed between us.

I wasn't just adapting for the sake of being Claimed; I was communicating with him, showing that I could see and appreciate the beauty of his kind.

He turned away briefly, conversing in hushed tones with the overseer of the Prize Pool.

The finality of the moment settled in.

I had done it.

The Norixian Champion stood before me, his colors now a calming shade of lavender, a sign of contentment.

In the most delicate and melodic voice, he spoke:

"I Claim you, Earthling."

And just like that, the chapter of the Prize Pool ended for me, and a new, uncertain one began.

But one thing was clear: I wasn't just another face in the crowd anymore.

I had claimed my destiny.

* * *

Ikmal prison wasunlike anything I had ever seen.

The sterile scent of the metallic walls, combined with the soft hum of the prison's energy barriers, created an almost hypnotic atmosphere.

However, that sense of calm clashed starkly with the inhabitants of the prison.

As I walked, I could feel the intense gazes of the prisoners following me.

Some were curious, some covetous, while others displayed an emotion I couldn't quite discern.

I'd learned early on to keep my guard up.

But I wasn't afraid; it was clear they knew better than to lay a finger on a Champion's Prize.

The prize tag brought with it a strange blend of prestige and vulnerability.

And though I was adapting quickly, there was still much about this place, its customs, and its inhabitants that remained enigmatic.

Rounding a corner, my thoughts were abruptly interrupted.

The corridor in this section was dimly lit, causing shadows to play tricks on the eyes.

Yet, amidst the sea of unfamiliar faces, one face captured my attention, freezing me in place for a heartbeat.

It was him.

Kuana.

Seeing him now, there was a magnetism about him.

His eyes, deep and soulful, held centuries of wisdom and pain.

And as our gazes locked, the world seemed to shrink, leaving just the two of us in a shared universe of recognition and curiosity.

We didn't stop.

There were no words, no greetings.

Hell, if I did stop, I wasn't sure what I would say.

And there was so much to be said.

Just a charged moment of electric intensity that seemed to stretch infinitely, yet was over in the blink of an eye.

As I continued walking, pulling myself back to the reality of the prison's corridors, I replayed that fleeting encounter.

His eyes had held a mixture of surprise, longing, and something else I couldn't quite place.

A haunting familiarity?

A shared secret from eons past?

But more than that, there was an undeniable pull.

I felt it deep in my core, a gravitational force that wanted to draw me back to him, to explore the connection that was sparked by that brief exchange.

Shaking my head, I tried to dismiss the overwhelming emotions.

After all, I was a Prize, Claimed by one of the most formidable Champions in the galaxy.

My path was set, and getting distracted wasn't an option.

Besides, the mysterious world of Kuana, with its meditative circles and transformative sessions, was worlds apart from the life of prestige and luxury that awaited Prizes.

Yet, as I walked, I couldn't help but reflect on my sudden transformation.

The very act of altering my appearance to appeal to the Norixian Champion had been an act of desperation, of survival.

But at what cost?

Was the price of safety and comfort the loss of one's true self?

The glimpse of Kuana had brought these questions to the forefront.

Rounding another corner, Gnarlak came to a stop outside a nondescript cell door.

The icy chill in his bioluminescent gaze reminded me of my status and place.

Yet, even as I approached him, my thoughts kept drifting back to Kuana.

It wasn't just his striking appearance or the mysterious aura that surrounded him.

It was the promise of depth, of understanding, and of a connection that transcended the present circumstances.

A connection that held the promise of stories untold, of shared journeys, and of destinies intertwined.

By the time I reached the Norixian's side, my heart was racing.

He seemed to sense my distraction, his gaze assessing as he tried to decipher the reason behind my sudden change in demeanor.

I gave him a faint smile, doing my best to mask the whirlwind of emotions raging inside me.

But internally, the realization was clear.

The brief encounter with Kuana had left an indelible mark, revealing cracks in the fa?ade I had so carefully constructed.

As we walked on, the Norixian's voice a distant murmur in the background, my mind was miles away.

I thought I was ready to see Kuana again, instead the sight of him had made me weak to my knees.

* * *

The cell was adornedwith opulence that seemed grotesquely out of place in the harsh environment of the Ikmal prison.

Gnarlak's cell was more of a lavish suite.

Walls were lined with rare cosmic artifacts, and the room glowed from an ethereal chandelier hanging from the ceiling, each of its crystals emitting a different colored light.

The Champion paused at the entrance, allowing me a moment to take it all in.

Then, with a prideful smirk playing on his lips, he motioned for me to enter first.

As I hesitated, I could feel the gazes of the other prisoners, a medley of envy and hunger.

Every eye was on me, but it was the Champion's icy stare that I found most unnerving.

Steeling myself, I took a step forward, the cool metal of the floor sending a shiver up my spine.

The air felt charged, every nerve in my body alert.

I knew what the expectation was, what being Claimed meant.

He closed the distance between us, his voice dripping with condescension. "I can sense your fear, Violet. But worry not. The initial resistance, the struggle — it's all part of the game. Once you're tamed, the pleasure will be unlike anything you've ever known."

"That's funny," I retorted, locking eyes with him, my voice dripping with feigned sweetness. "I was about to say the same thing."

Before he could react, I lunged forward, channeling every ounce of strength and agility I possessed.

My fist found his throat, striking a pressure point I'd learned was a weakness among the Norixian.

He gasped, his eyes widening in surprise, and collapsed to the floor, unconscious.

My heart remained calm as I took in the scene.

Time was of the essence.

I needed a disguise, a way out.

Scanning the room, I spotted the Champion's cloak hanging in his opulent wardrobe.

Swiftly, I draped it over myself, the luxurious fabric surprisingly light and warm against my skin.

I bent down and picked up the Champion's limp arm, pressing it against the cell's scanning panel.

There was a soft chime, followed by a hissing sound as the cell door began to slide open.

Behind me, the Norixian Champion groaned in his sleep, a feeble attempt to voice his outrage.

But I wasn't about to wait around.

The door opened and with one last glance back at the once-mighty Champion now sprawled helplessly on the floor, I stepped into the corridors of Ikmal prison, the promise of freedom within my grasp.

But not alone.