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He began scanning them with a fervor, searching for the one thing that had been our objective all along — the secret exit.
The plans stretched out in front of us, intricate and detailed.
They showcased the very design of the dreamworld.
But, deep down, I had a sinking feeling.
The elusive ‘secret exit’ had been our lifeline, our last hope.
Yet, somewhere in my heart, I knew it wasn’t real.
“Grace, it has to be here,” Tix muttered, his voice edging towards desperation as he continued to pore over the plans, his fingers tracing the convoluted pathways and structures.
I watched him for a moment, the sharp contours of his face cast in the dim, shifting lights of the dreamworld. “Tix…” I began, my voice gentle yet firm.
He didn’t look up. “There must be a hidden door, a portal, something… anything,” he persisted, his voice taking on a frantic tone.
Reaching out, I placed a hand over his, stilling his movements.
Our eyes met, a world of emotions conveyed in that silent exchange.
“It was a rumor, Tix,” I whispered, the weight of the revelation evident in my voice. “There is no secret exit.”
His face crumpled for a moment, the weight of the truth pressing down on him. “But… all the stories, the legends… they spoke of a way out.”
I sighed. “Legends often grow from the smallest grains of truth, only to be embellished over time.”
Gently, I folded up the plans and held them close, as if clinging to a relic of our shared journey.
His gaze remained on the plans, the disbelief evident. “So, this is it then? We’re trapped here, in Ikmal, forever?”
I wrapped my arms around him, drawing him close. “If we are to be trapped, at least we have each other.”
He looked into my eyes, a myriad of emotions swirling in his golden depths. “Forever is a long time, Grace,” he whispered, the weight of eternity pressing down on his voice.
In that infinite realm, where time lost meaning, we had each other.
Our intertwined fates, our shared experiences, and our deep bond would be our beacon.
We might have been prisoners of the dream, but love knew no bounds.
Drawing him into a tight embrace, I rested my forehead against his. “With you, Tix, forever doesn’t sound that bad.”
* * *
The dreamworld was always eerily quiet, a vast space filled with the whispers of lost memories and lingering spirits.
The peace was shattered as I heard the faint sounds of guards shuffling in the distance.
It was a sound we had become accustomed to, the rhythmic march of boots and clinking of keys signaling the beginning of another day in the real world.
I looked at Tix, whose form seemed even more ethereal than before.
He seemed tired, his face drawn and pale.
The weight of the battles he had fought, not just in the dreamworld but also in the arena, had taken its toll on him.
“It’s time,” he whispered, his voice soft but filled with a resigned heaviness.
