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It felt real — cool and firm in my grip.
Tentatively, I bit into it, and the sweetness exploded in my mouth, more vivid than any real fruit I had tasted.
Ikhax laughed at my surprised expression. “Convinced yet?”
I nodded slowly, still processing the reality — or unreality — of the situation. “Okay, so we’re in my head. What do you want?”
He looked at me seriously. “Our deal, Violet. It’s imperative I get the information you promised. The balance of power in the galaxy is at stake.”
I sighed, wishing I had never gotten tangled up in this mess. “I told you I need more time.”
Ikhax’s gaze hardened. “The clock is ticking. In three days, the opportunity for your escape will pass. After that… Well, let’s just say you’ll be here permanently. Unless,” he paused, a sly smile playing on his lips, “we come to another arrangement.”
I narrowed my eyes at him, sensing his ulterior motive. “What sort of arrangement?”
His gaze traveled over me, leaving a trail of unease in its wake. “A more… intimate one.”
I felt a chill run down my spine. “You want a relationship?”
Ikhax’s chuckle sounded more sinister now. “Not a relationship, Violet. No, something far simpler. My needs aren’t complicated.”
Feeling trapped in this make-believe world, I tried to keep my voice even. “That’s not part of our deal.”
His face inched closer to mine. “Neither is your ‘complication.’ If you fail to give me the information I desire within the next three days, our agreement is null and void. But we may… come to another arrangement.”
The beautiful Fabrication felt more like a cage than a paradise.
I took a step back. “I’ll… I’ll be ready in three days. I swear. You’ll have your information and I’ll have my escape.”
He grinned. “Good.”
He clapped his hands, and the Fabrication began to dissolve around us.
And just as suddenly as I had been pulled into the Fabrication, I found myself back in his cell.
Ikhax’s cell was exactly as I had left it, the only difference being the gentle hum coming from the alien contraption that functioned as an oven.
The environment still reeked of a deceptive charm, the familiar scent of whatever Ikhax was baking clouding my senses.
Even amidst the tension of our previous conversation, I found myself oddly curious about the aroma wafting in the air.
The four-armed leader reached in, retrieving a cake that looked surprisingly Earth-like.
Its light blue icing shimmered and sparkled, as if specks of stars were trapped within.
Tiny edible constellations?
I found myself wondering, though I dared not ask.
Ikhax inspected his creation with a look of deep satisfaction.
He then looked up, all four of his arms moving in a dance of efficiency as he began slicing the cake, his movements almost hypnotic.
“You’re free to leave,” he said without looking up, a surprisingly casual tone in his voice after our intense conversation in the Fabrication.
My eyes darted to the guards flanking the door, the two towering henchmen nodding in confirmation.
The path was clear.
