The faint light of dawn seeped through the narrow slit in the cell's wall, casting thin beams across the cold, damp stone floor. Kael sat with his back pressed against the wall, his mind racing. The encounter with the mysterious figure still gnawed at him, the cryptic words and the presence of that pulsing orb lingering in his thoughts.
But he couldn't afford to dwell on it. Not here. Not now.
Kael glanced around the cell. The other captives were stirring, their eyes sunken and hollow, their movements sluggish. None of them spoke. The weight of their collective despair was almost suffocating, but Kael refused to let it take hold of him.
He flexed his fingers, testing the strength in his hands. They were still frail, the bones sharp beneath his skin. His entire body was weak, but not broken. That alone was a victory.
If I want to survive this, I need to make this body stronger. There's no other way.
His violet eyes drifted to the others in the cell. They were a mix of men and women, some young, some older, but all worn down by captivity. He could see it in their posture, in the way they avoided eye contact, in the resignation etched into their faces.
Kael took a deep breath and began to move. Slowly, carefully, he stretched his arms above his head, feeling the pull in his stiff muscles. Then he shifted to his legs, rotating his ankles and testing the limits of his range.
The faint sound of movement drew the attention of one of the other captives—a young woman with matted black hair and a wary expression. She watched him for a moment, her gaze curious but guarded.
"What are you doing?" she asked, her voice hoarse.
Kael didn't stop. "Preparing."
"For what?"
He paused, meeting her gaze. "For whatever comes next."
Her lips twisted into a bitter smile. "You think you'll last? They'll throw you into the arena again. And you'll either die there or wish you had."
Kael shrugged. "Maybe. But I'm not planning to die. Not yet."
The woman snorted softly and turned away, but Kael could sense a faint shift in her demeanor. It wasn't much, but it was something.
Kael continued his stretches, his movements slow and deliberate. He wasn't just trying to loosen his muscles—he was testing his body, learning its limits. The boy whose life he now inhabited had been malnourished and battered, but there was a latent strength beneath the surface, waiting to be tapped.
As the day dragged on, Kael began to improvise. He used the cell's limited space to practice basic exercises: push-ups, squats, lunges. Each movement was a struggle, his muscles trembling with the effort, but he pushed through the discomfort. Every drop of sweat, every strained breath, was a step toward reclaiming his strength.
The other captives watched him in silence, their expressions ranging from curiosity to pity. None of them joined him.
But Kael didn't care. This was his fight, his survival.
....
By the time night fell, Kael's body ached. His arms and legs felt like lead, his chest heaving with exhaustion. But there was a flicker of satisfaction in his chest. He had made progress, however small.
As he leaned against the wall, catching his breath, his thoughts returned to the boy whose body he now inhabited. The silver-blonde hair and violet eyes were striking, but the bruises and scars told a darker story. Kael knew he couldn't ignore it any longer. If he was going to survive, he needed to understand the boy's past—who he was, how he had ended up here, and why his body now belonged to Kael.
Closing his eyes, Kael focused. He didn't know if it would work, but something deep within him—some instinct—urged him to try.
The darkness behind his eyelids deepened, and for a moment, Kael felt as though he were sinking. Images flickered in his mind, hazy and fragmented, like pieces of a shattered mirror.
A boy standing in a sunlit meadow, his silver hair catching the light. A woman's laughter, warm and comforting.
Then, the scene shifted. The boy was running, his breaths ragged, his face streaked with tears. Shouts echoed in the distance, growing louder.
Blood. So much blood.
Kael gasped, his eyes snapping open. His heart pounded in his chest, the echoes of the visions leaving him shaken.
He was hunted, Kael realized. This boy… he was running from something. No someone.
The faintest trace of a memory lingered—a name, whispered like a ghost in his mind. Lucian.
The name meant nothing to Kael, but he filed it away, a thread to follow when the time came.
....
The sound of approaching footsteps jolted Kael back to the present. The guards were coming.
The cell door creaked open, and two guards entered, their expressions as impassive as ever. One of them gestured to Kael.
"You. Get up."
Kael rose slowly, his muscles protesting. He met the guards' gaze with steady defiance, refusing to show any hint of fear.
They grabbed him roughly by the arms, dragging him out of the cell. As the door slammed shut behind them, Kael caught a glimpse of the other captives. The young woman who had spoken to him earlier watched him go, her eyes filled with something he couldn't quite place.
The guards led him down the familiar corridors, their grip firm but not painful. Kael's mind raced as he considered his options. He wasn't strong enough to fight them—yet. But he could use this time to observe, to learn.
As tome seemed to pass by quicker, he found himself at the familiar opening that led into the arena, he could hear the roars of cheering onlookers from the high stands above.
The guards, without hesitation, pushed Kael inside the arena, locking the large steel gate behind him. He already anticipated that they'd throw him back into the arena sooner or later, but so soon?
Then again, the other captives in the cell did say he'd get thrown back in regardless of how tired he may be. Kael inwardly sighed, then turned to face his opponent, they wore rough looking armor, Kael noticed the familiar scattered broken and dented weapons laid about on the ground.
His eyes however remained on the armored opponent who seemed to be snickering under their steel plated helm. Kael gritted his teeth slightly, he didn't take to getting looked down upon so lightly.
Here we go again, he thought with a bit of sarcastic humor.