They dragged me down a series of white hallways on my way to the Pit. Always the same route. Always the same color—white. As if I could possibly forget what this place was.
Finally, we stopped, and the door opened to reveal the cage: a small, clinical cell, barely big enough to fit two of me. I'd lost track of how many times I'd stood in it. It always smelled like bleach and stale fear.
The cage is multifunctional too. It serves as a controlled entrance for us text subjects but it can also be lifted and suspended in the center of the Pit to leave us as baits for rabid fire breathing wyvern or just for the doctors to take a closer look at us from their cute little observation box.
Little Mike unlocked the collar around my neck, and a surge of power rushed through me, sharp and bright, like a gulp of fresh air after drowning. Just a second later, he reached past me, opening the cage door into the Pit.
I grinned. The moron never learns. I grabbed his hand through the bars, squeezing until I felt a satisfying crunch. His howl filled the cell, and I let go, rolling my eyes as Yapper dragged him off. It's not like I hurt him permanently. He'd be fine in a few minutes; he didn't have a collar around his neck, siphoning off his strength like a faucet dripping into the drain.
Taking a breath, I stepped out of the cage, scanning the Pit. Did I mention everything here is white? The walls, the floors, the cage bars—everything. Some design genius decided that blood looks cleaner on white, apparently.
The Pit itself is massive, about forty-eight meters high and as wide as...I don't know, a football field? I'd seen pictures once, but I don't really care. All that matters is the steel doors on either side of the Pit, where they let out whatever we're fighting. About fifteen meters up, there's an observation box behind one-way glass, so the doctors can watch us and take notes on all the "progress" we're making.
Across the Pit, I spotted another cage. Mira's.
The cage opened, and she stepped out, glancing around cautiously before catching sight of me. She smiled, and we ran to each other, hugging tightly. I have gone so long without my happy pill.
It has been so long since we've seen each other. I don't know how long, but it has been long. In this place, "time" is just another thing they control. No clocks, no windows, nothing to tell day from night. Once, I tried to ask the guards what the date was, I never tried that again.
Mira looked.... different. More grown up. She was still taller than me by a couple of inches, all long legs and stubbornness, with big brown eyes that never quite lost their softness. She used to have gorgeous golden-blonde hair, always perfectly clean and shiny, no matter how filthy the rest of us were. But now, it was cropped close to her scalp.
"What happened? You cut your hair." I asked, brushing a hand over the stubble.
She shrugged. "Not by choice. A goblin got a hold of it during my last fight. So...I figured it was better to get rid of it. I don't know how you manage, though. Your hair's twice as long as mine ever was." She tugged at the thick braid of dark hair hanging down way past my waist.
I shrugged. "Guess the monsters I fight aren't as grabby."
Not exactly true. I figured out a long time ago that She is actually treated better than I was. She's been spared some of the worst fights. She hasn't faced Tyrnns, Red Caps, or anything that breathes fire. She doesn't even know about the injections that made you stay awake during the experiments.
I'd never let her know that though. No need to dump that weight on her. She's got enough to handle already. Besides, knowing her? She's probably going to feel guilty and blame herself for shit she can't control.
"You could cut it, you know," she said.
I scoffed derisively. Like they'd allow me within thirty feet of any sharp object. I cannot count how many times I've been yanked around by my hair during a fight but whenever I ask for anything to cut it with, all I get is painful electricity through the collars. I don't even have access to a mirror in all the time I've been here. I don't know if they are afraid I would hurt myself or them.
She gave me an amused look, one eyebrow raised, then crossed her arms. "So...I heard you got on Stella and Mike's bad side again."
I pretended to look shocked. "Me? I would never. I just happened to overhear Little Mike bragging to Yapper about doing something called 'dating' with Stella on my way back from my last fight. Thought I'd share my honest opinion."
She tilted her head, frowning. "Dating? What's that?"
"Honestly? No clue. But I'm pretty sure they couldn't even pay someone else to do it with them."
She laughed, but the sound faded quickly, and her gaze flicked nervously around the Pit. "I guess they want us to fight monsters together today. Any idea why?"
I turned, glancing up toward the observation box. "Yeah.... Guess who's here?"
Her face paled. "No..... Sire?"
"Yeah. Probably wanna put on a good show for him." I could see her mouth tighten, worry bleeding into her expression as we both turned to look at the huge steel doors on either side.
"What's taking so long, though?" she whispered, barely audible.
My thoughts exactly. Monsters usually burst out the second we're here, no delays, no build-up. But now, it was just us, standing alone in the middle of the Pit.
"Do you think they'll throw Tyrnns or Rots at us?" Her voice was shaking, though she tried to hide it.
I forced a casual "Maybe. Who knows?"
"Hopefully, they'll at least give us weapons," she muttered.
I shot her a look. "Weapons? Really Mira? Come on. When have they ever."
"Uh..... I've been getting weapons for like the last four fights or so." She said, frowning slightly.
Now, it was my turn to be surprised. "What?!" Did I hear that right?
"Have you not been getting any?"
"No! Those little..... gah!" I could curse however I wanted in my head but somehow could never bring myself to do so out loud.
Wooooow. Those little motherfuckers!! It would have been nice to have something sharp to defend myself with other than my bare hands for once.
My thoughts were halted by a loud grinding as one of the massive steel doors began to open. Mira and I shifted, moving instinctively into fighting stances, my heart thudding hard in my chest as I prepared for...whatever.
"Oh, You gotta be fucking kidding me," Mira whispers beside me in horror.
Because It wasn't a monster emerging from the doors. Sauntering into the Pit like he was taking a casual stroll, was Sire himself. He looked just like he had the last time I saw him–however long ago that was. He wore his usual dark gray suit and the creepy silver mask that covered half his face, but this time, his hands were bare. No gloves.
A chill rolled down my spine. The only thing more terrifying than Sire in gloves was Sire without them. No gloves meant he had every intention of using his touch on us today. His touch was tainted with some kind of dark magic—a gift, a curse, I didn't know—but anyone he touched would feel agony like nothing else.
And if he was showing up here without gloves, that meant one thing: he wanted us to be afraid.
Mira gripped my arm tightly, her nails digging into my skin. I could feel her trembling slightly, her breath quick and shallow.
As he drew closer, the air seemed to change, thickening with something vile, like he was radiating pure malice that I could almost smell. It hit my senses like a wave of rot and dark, inky tendrils curling out from him and clinging to the walls, seeping into my skin. This was how he felt to me—a mix of rancid and toxic, something lurking under the surface, just waiting to poison whatever it touched.
I fought the instinct to flinch as Sire stopped just a few feet away, looking between us like we were some rare breed of animal–pets–he'd captured. His voice was smooth and cold, each word dripping with false warmth.
"Hello, girls."
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