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The rage simmering in his eyes told me he hadn’t forgotten either.
“No one humiliates me like that, Tix,” he hissed, his voice dripping with venom. “No one.”
“I suggest you let go,” I growled, trying to keep my voice steady.
The element of surprise was on his side, and in these tight quarters, I had little room to maneuver.
Instead of heeding my warning, Fleth lunged at me with a swift, powerful strike.
I managed to dodge, but the narrow confines of the alcove made it nearly impossible to mount a proper defense.
His next punch connected with my jaw, sending a sharp jolt of pain through my head.
I had faced Fleth in the pit and had been prepared for his onslaught.
Here, in the sterile corridor, without the rush of the crowd or the structured rules of the pit, the situation felt chaotic and unpredictable.
Fleth kept pressing his advantage, relentless in his attacks.
I blocked and parried as best I could, trying to find an opening to counter-attack or make my escape.
Fleth was like a wild animal, driven by rage and humiliation.
A sudden, brutal kick caught me off-guard, striking my leg with bone-crushing force.
An agonizing pain shot up my body, and I realized with a sinking feeling that my leg was broken.
I staggered, trying to stay upright, but Fleth was already on me.
“No more games, Tix,” he growled, landing a series of punches on my chest and face.
My vision blurred, and every breath became a painful effort.
With my mobility compromised and unable to properly defend myself, I felt an overwhelming sense of helplessness.
My training, my experiences in the pit, none of it seemed to matter in the face of Fleth’s fury.
As the onslaught continued, a part of me stubbornly clung to consciousness, searching for an opening, a way out.
But Fleth was relentless.
A final, powerful blow to my temple was the last thing I felt before the world went dark.
The cold, echoing corridors bore silent witness to the violence, my limp body a testament to Fleth’s vengeance.
18
GRACE
The shadows of the walls seemed to stretch and reach out, echoing my turbulent thoughts.
Uhah’s dream had become a labyrinth of emotions for me, both awe-inspiring and terrifying.
A cold, silent reminder that the dreamworld, as mesmerizing as it was, could be perilous and unpredictable.
I’ve always known Tix as the one who could navigate the intricate maze of one’s nightmares, the one who stood strong and unyielding against the darkness.
Last night, when I saw him cornered, vulnerable, about to be swallowed by the abyss, something inside me snapped.
