Page 36 of Play the Game

I watch her grip shift on the dagger, and I think: history repeats itself. Once again, I face an impossible choice. But this time, I choose to stay. To face whatever comes for me, even if it means death at the hands of the woman who’s become my everything.

I close my eyes, bracing myself for the inevitable. The weight of the situation presses down on me as I accept that Rhea, the one bright spark in my forsaken existence, no longer believes in me.

The dagger's sharp edge is still pressed against my chest, and I suck in a harsh breath. My muscles coil tight, an ancient instinct to fight for survival warring with the grim resignation.

I am Valen, a Vrakken warrior felled by love rather than battle. An ignoble end, perhaps, but one I'll face with the same unflinching resolve that has carried me through centuries of bloodshed.

I am prepared to die.

I open my eyes again. I want Rhea’s face to be the last thing I see when I die.

Tears fall freely down her face now, making her hazel eyes glisten like amber in firelight. The dagger trembles against my chest, but I refuse to flinch. Let her see my strength even in these final moments. Her resolve hardens - I recognize that look. It's the same expression she wore when making her first kill.

"I have to save them," she whispers, her voice cracking. "They're my family."

My chains rattle again as I straighten once more, ignoring the searing pain. "Then do what you must," I say. The words taste like ash in my mouth, but I keep my voice steady, commanding. I won't beg. Not even for her.

A sob catches in her throat as she presses the blade harder against my skin. Blood wells around the tip - my blood, spilledby the woman I've grown to love. The irony would be amusing if it didn't hurt so damn much.

"I'm so sorry," she breathes, and I see it in her eyes - the decision is made. Her grip on the dagger steadies.

"Don't apologize," I say. I bare my teeth in a fierce grin. "You were worth it all. Every single moment."

The blade breaks my skin as she steels herself for the killing blow. Behind her, Aelith's satisfied smirk makes my blood boil, but I keep my eyes locked on Rhea's face. If these are my last moments, I want to remember her - even like this, torn and breaking, she's simply magnificent.

20

RHEA

My heart hammers violently against my ribcage, each beat a silent plea for the strength to do what must be done. The dagger in my hand feels heavier than the weight of the world as its point presses against Valen's chest. His crimson eyes, usually ablaze with an unyielding fire, now flicker with a grim resignation.

The cold stone of the dungeon walls leaches the warmth from my body, and I shiver, though not from the chill. "I'm sorry," I whisper. "I have to."

Valen's gaze holds mine, unwavering despite the pain he must be feeling. There's no anger in his eyes, only a deep, sorrowful understanding that slices through me sharper than any blade ever could. "Rhea," he murmurs softly, my name a sacred incantation on his lips.

Aelith's laughter, cruel and victorious, reverberates off the stone walls as he watches from the sidelines. "Do it, little human," he taunts.

Tears blur my vision, turning the dungeon into a watery tapestry of grays and shadows. I draw in a shaky breath, my fingers tightening around the hilt of the dagger. Every instinctscreams at me to stop, to find another way, but the image of my parents—beaten, bruised, and bound—haunts me, fueling my resolve.

"Forgive me," I choke out, and with a swift, merciless thrust, I plunge the dagger into Valen's chest. His gasp of pain is a dagger to my own heart, and I feel him go rigid beneath my touch before his body sags against the chains that bind him.

Blood wells up around the blade, staining his skin and my hands. The metallic scent of it fills my nostrils, mingling with the damp, earthy smell of the dungeon. "Valen," I cry out, my voice cracking with the force of my anguish.

His eyes flutter,struggling to stay open, and in that moment, the world around us ceases to exist. There is no dungeon, no dark elves, no impossible choices—only Valen and the profound, soul-deep connection we share. "I love you," I confess, the words spilling from my lips in a rush of desperation and despair.

Valen's breath hitches, a wet, gurgling sound that chills me to the bone. "Rhea," he rasps with a laborious effort.

The room spins around me, a vortex of horror and desperation. I can't breathe, can't think past the roaring in my ears. "Valen," I choke out, my voice a mere whisper, lost in the cavernous dungeon.

His eyes meet mine.

I'm shaking uncontrollably, the dagger's point piercing his skin. The wound I've inflicted upon him is a physical manifestation of the agony tearing through my soul. "I can't lose you," I whisper softly. Tears stream freely down my face, each drop a testament to my torment.

Valen manages a weak smile, his lips parting to speak, but I silence him with a desperate plea. "Give us a chance," I beg, thewords tumbling from my lips in a rush of raw emotion. "Turn me into a Vrakken."

His eyes suddenly widen, a flicker of surprise—and something deeper, something unspoken—passing between us. Time stands still, the world holding its breath as we hang suspended in this moment of irrevocable transformation.

With a strength that belies his injuries, Valen stands up tall and stretches his neck out. He soon places his mouth near the back of my neck. "Rhea, this is no gift," he warns, his voice steady despite the pain he must be feeling.