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The world seemed to slow.
His scales glistened, reflecting the overhead lights, and his claws reached out hungrily.
His hot breath, a mix of rotting meat and sulfur, assaulted my nostrils.
A scream lodged in my throat as he tried to pull me into his cell.
But before I could even fully register the threat, a sharp crack echoed in the corridor.
The butt of the armed guard’s plasma rifle came down on the attacker.
The alien recoiled, hissing in pain.
The guard’s prompt response and the sudden turn of events left me both grateful and petrified.
My heart raced, and I could feel a tremble start from the tips of my fingers, spreading through my body.
“Back to your cell!” The guard’s voice was a deep growl, both a warning to the prisoner and a reassurance to me.
The defiant alien slunk back, his eyes seething with anger but also filled with fear of further retribution.
I felt the world spinning.
My legs wobbled, and I wasn’t sure I could continue. “I want to go back,” I whispered, my voice shaky.
The cold, oppressive walls of our cell never seemed more appealing.
Suddenly, amid the cacophony of prisoner murmurs, a familiar voice pierced through, sharp and clear. “Ellie!”
I froze.
My eyes darted around, scanning the cells and the faces, trying to locate the source of the voice.
No one I knew had any idea I was here… did they?
Somewhere in the depths of the prison, someone knew my name, someone who might be an ally — or another threat.
But that shout, filled with surprise and concern, gave me a glimmer of hope.
Maybe, just maybe, Ceara and I weren’t as alone in this fight as we’d believed.
* * *
The voice echoed through the prison corridor again, “Ellie!”
It took me a moment to recognize the soft, melodic tone as I hadn’t heard it for several days now; and even when I had last heard it, I didn’t think I would be hearing it again.
When I pinpointed its source, a smile tugged at my lips despite the dire circumstances.
Emerging from the tangled maze of prisoners, Nova, the confident human Prize I had encountered during my early days in this prison, approached me.
Beside her, the contrast almost comical: a massive Champion with sharp features and muscles that looked as if they had been carved from granite.
He had a perpetual scowl etched on his face, but there was an undeniable gentleness in the way he looked at Nova.
It reminded me of the bond Ceara and I shared — complex and full of contrasts.
Nova’s iridescent tattoos seemed to reflect the light, creating an ethereal dance of colors around her.
