7. Kuana

The cold gray dawn crept through the gaps in the prison walls, casting an eerie light over the cell.

I lay in bed, eyes closed, but fully awake, still processing the whirlwind of the night before.

The sensation of Violet's touch, the warmth of her embrace, and the familiarity of her presence; all of it was so fresh, as if she'd never left.

Drawing my hand to my nose, I inhaled deeply.

Her scent lingered on my skin — a sweet blend of starberries and night jasmine.

It was intoxicating, making my heart race all over again.

Every time I caught a whiff, a whirlwind of memories threatened to consume me — memories of our times spent together on different planets, under various moons, and the many stolen moments in between.

Getting out of bed, I decided to take a walk, clear my head a bit.

I tried to push the overwhelming mix of emotions to the back of my mind.

My feet began to lead me to the mess hall.

Food was the last thing I was hungry for, but the distraction seemed appealing.

However, as I strolled, my steps felt heavier, drawing me elsewhere.

I found myself standing outside the Prize Pool.

I'd passed it many times before, always with a purpose.

But today, it felt different.

Today, the building seemed to beckon me, and I couldn't resist its pull.

The Prize Pool, with its gilded trims and extravagant architecture, stood in stark contrast to the rest of the prison's stark design.

It was meant to be a spectacle, a show of wealth and power.

But for me, today, it represented hope.

I scanned the building's facade, its many windows shimmering in the daylight.

Somewhere in there was Violet.

I could feel her presence like a magnetic pull.

I imagined her moving around, perhaps plotting her next move, or maybe taking a moment for herself.

My eyes trailed up to the topmost window — a window from which, I had heard, one could get a view of the entire prison compound.

A place where someone like Violet might stand and strategize.

For a brief moment, I imagined her silhouette against the pane, her fiery spirit glowing even in this cold place.

I envisioned her looking down, spotting me, and sharing one of those secret smiles we used to exchange in hidden corners of crowded places.

But when I focused, she wasn't there.

A pang of disappointment hit me.

It was foolish to have expected a reunion so soon, especially after the intense conversation we'd had.

Yet, a part of me had hoped — hoped that she felt the same magnetic pull, that she too would be drawn to this spot.

I took a deep breath, reminding myself that all good things took time.

Our relationship, our bond, had always been a testament to patience and persistence.

This was just another hurdle we had to overcome.

As I stood there, the wind gently picked up, carrying with it the distant aroma of starberries and night jasmine.

The scent wrapped around me like a soft embrace, grounding me, reminding me that no matter where we were, Violet and I were always connected.

The moment felt almost surreal, as if the universe was trying to tell me something.

With a newfound determination, I decided then and there to be patient, to wait for the right moment.

Because when that moment came, it would be worth every second of the wait.

Taking one last look at the Prize Pool, I whispered a silent promise to the wind, hoping it would carry my words to her, "I'll love you forever and always. But I can't risk you getting hurt."

And with that, I turned away, the scent of starberries and night jasmine still lingering.

* * *

The antechamber wasa peculiar mix of chaos and order.

Stacks of weapons and shields from various galaxies were methodically arranged, each telling tales of skirmishes and battles.

I often wandered here, not with the intention to take anything, but to reminisce.

Every piece had a history, a lineage, a story.

Just like every inmate in the prison.

As I trailed my fingers along the smooth surface of a shield, lost in thought, the familiar hum of Arctook's voice drew my attention.

My meditation student stood a few paces away, examining a pair of sleek-looking dual blades.

I watched as he gingerly took them, his grip unsure.

"Remember, it's not about the weapon," I approached him, my voice gentle yet firm. "It's about the one wielding it."

Arctook looked up, a mixture of anxiety and determination in his eyes.

He was fighting today and I often liked to coach him with his mindset before he entered the pit.

His scales shimmered in the dim light of the chamber. "Yes, it's been a while since I last stepped in the pits. But today, I feel ready."

I observed him for a moment.

The progress he had made over the past months was clear.

From a volatile, emotionally driven inmate, Arctook had transformed into someone who had a semblance of control over his emotions, harnessing them rather than being a slave to them.

Meditation, especially in an environment as hostile as this prison, was a salvation for many.

"Remember what you have learned," I advised, placing a hand on his shoulder. "Your mind is your greatest asset. Focus. Let every emotion fuel you but not cloud your judgment."

Arctook took a deep breath, exhaling slowly. "It's challenging, Kuana. But with your guidance, I've come to understand myself better. The pits… they don't scare me anymore."

I couldn't help but feel a swell of pride. "Fear is a tool, Arctook. Use it, don't let it use you."

I helped him strap on lightweight armor that allowed for swift movement while also offering protection.

I could sense his growing anticipation, the restless energy humming beneath his calm exterior.

Suddenly, a voice echoed throughout the antechamber. "Arctook of Nebula Prime, your battle awaits!"

His eyes met mine, and I could see the raw determination there. "Thank you, Kuana, for everything. I'll make you proud."

"You already have," I whispered, giving his shoulder a reassuring squeeze.

The thick metallic doors slid open, revealing the entrance to the pit.

The roar of the audience, ever eager for entertainment, reached our ears.

It was a sound I knew all too well — a mix of bloodlust and excitement, cheering for victory or defeat.

Arctook stepped forward, pausing briefly to offer a respectful bow.

Then, with newfound confidence, he marched into the pit, ready to face whatever challenge awaited him.

I stood there for a moment, taking in the ambiance, the raw energy of the pit, the weight of choices and paths chosen.

Arctook had opted for the pits, seeking honor and redemption in combat.

Others, like myself, sought peace in other ways.

But in this prison, there was no judgment.

Every inmate had to find their own path, their own salvation.

The roar of the audience grew louder, echoing through the chamber and vibrating through my being.

That sound, though familiar, always brought back memories of battles fought and challenges overcome.

For a fleeting moment, I felt the itch, the pull of the pits, but I shook it off.

I had made my choice long ago.

I had my reasons.

And as much as the sound called out to me, promising glory and honor, it also whispered tales of loss and pain.

And so, with a final lingering gaze at the entrance to the pit, I turned and walked away, leaving behind the intoxicating sound and the memories it stirred.

* * *

The stands were packedwith inmates, each one more ferocious and eager for victory than the next.

But I was not interested in the battles, not truly.

I was anxious about what came after: The Prize.

I tried to suppress the feeling, but jealousy bubbled beneath my scales.

The very thought of Violet being Claimed by another, touched by another… it was maddening.

I felt a violent surge of protectiveness, an emotion I hadn't encountered so intensely before.

My attention shifted to Arctook as he met his opponent in the middle of the pit, gleaming blades in hand.

He had made it to the final and I couldn't be more proud.

I had trained him, shared the teachings of my ancestors, watched him grow from a volatile fighter into a disciplined warrior.

I felt a sense of pride as he moved with grace and precision, anticipating his opponent's every move.

The crowd's cheer grew louder with each parry and dodge.

They were loving this fight.

His opponent was a massive brute from a distant galaxy, armed with a spiked mace that looked like it could crush Arctook in a single blow.

But Arctook was quicker, dodging each strike with agility.

For a moment, I lost myself in the battle, admiring the skill and strategy.

Arctook seemed to be in his element, each move a dance, each strike a note in a symphony of combat.

With a swift and unexpected maneuver, Arctook managed to disarm his opponent, sending the spiked mace clattering to the ground.

The brute, now defenseless, raised his arms in surrender.

The crowd erupted in deafening applause.

Arctook had won.

I should have been overjoyed, but another emotion overshadowed my pride:

Fear.

Arctook, flushed with victory, looked up towards the stands, and his eyes met mine.

There was an unspoken communication between us, a student acknowledging his master.

But then, his gaze drifted towards the Prize Pool, and I felt a sinking feeling in the pit of my stomach.

Would he Claim her?

The thought was unbearable.

I had taught him to control his emotions, to be disciplined, but had I inadvertently paved the way for him to take the one person I yearned for?

The roar of the crowd dimmed as my thoughts consumed me.

The pits, the battles, the victories, they all seemed so trivial now.

All that mattered was Violet.

I felt torn.

Part of me wanted to rush to the Prize Pool and ensure that Violet was safe, untouched.

Another part, the mentor in me, wanted to congratulate Arctook on his victory.

But the third, and most powerful emotion, was the raw jealousy and fear of losing her.

I leaned against the cool wall of the pit entrance, trying to calm the storm of emotions within.

This was new territory for me.

I had faced countless battles, numerous foes, but this internal struggle was unlike anything I had ever experienced.

As I watched Arctook head into the Prize Pool, the weight of uncertainty pressed down on me.

Would Arctook Claim Violet?

* * *

The Prize Poolentrance seemed like the maw of a gargantuan creature, ready to consume my every emotion and shred it to bits.

I hovered outside, anxiety coiling around my insides.

I could feel the charged atmosphere as every second ticked by, every second that Arctook spent inside.

It seemed like an eternity.

The doors hissed as they slid open and out stepped Arctook, a proud smile plastered on his face, and next to him…

My breath froze in my throat.

Violet.

My heart, which had been racing already, nearly leapt out of my chest.

It was a strange sensation, like every muscle in my body had tensed at once.

The way he held onto her, the look on her face, it was all too much to bear.

I had to remind myself that this was the way of the pits.

The victor had the right to Claim a Prize.

It was just a cruel twist of fate that the very person I'd taught and mentored had chosen the one being I had grown attached to.

The armed guards that trailed behind them made it impossible to approach.

In their eyes, every inmate was a potential threat, especially towards a freshly Claimed Prize.

The heavy weaponry they carried was a clear deterrent.

Any move towards Arctook or Violet would undoubtedly be met with swift retribution.

I couldn't help but wonder, had I made a grave error by not entering the pits?

By staying on the sidelines, had I inadvertently let the one person who meant something slip through my fingers?

The weight of regret was palpable, heavy on my chest.

My mind raced, trying to devise a plan.

I couldn't let Violet go.

But with the guards and the rules of the prison, it wouldn't be easy.

I briefly considered intercepting them, but the armed guards would be on me in an instant.

Confrontation was not the way.

A better plan.

I need a better plan.

Suddenly, one hit me.

I couldn't approach Arctook but maybe I could get him to approach me…

With determination burning bright, I sprinted down the hall.