Chapter 27 - Samantha
I wake up wrapped in Ayden's arms. His face is nestled against my neck, his breathing slow and steady. He's still asleep.
Gently, I place a hand on his chest. His skin, burning hot last night, is back to normal temperature. That's a good sign. Let’s hope that twisted Danuk doesn’t subject them to that ridiculous torture again.
I stay still, savoring this precious moment in the arms of the man I’ve loved for so long.
Not for his looks, though I can’t deny them or resist them—let’s be honest—but for everything else he is.
For his quiet strength, his loyalty, the way he’s always watched over Logan like a protective big brother.
For his humor, even in the worst situations.
Logan often told me stories of their adventures, always sprinkled with that lightness Ayden brings to everything.
And because, for as long as I can remember, he’s always seen me—really seen me—for who I am.
Our connection was instant, mutual—at least, that’s what I believe.
And after all those years apart, all that waiting and hoping.
.. we finally found each other again. Just not under the best circumstances.
And if this night ends up being the only one we ever have, I’ll treasure it for the rest of my life.
Under my fingers, I feel Ayden’s pulse quicken, his skin tremble, his muscles tense like he’s waking up. His eyelids lift, and I fall into those obsidian eyes of his. The crooked smile he gives me does things to me.
“Hey,” he murmurs.
“Hey. How do you feel this morning?”
“At my absolute best with you in my arms,” he replies with a cheeky wink.
I chuckle, unable to help myself. A nervous little giggle at first that grows, loosens, and finally bursts into full-blown laughter. Ayden watches me, eyes crinkling in amusement.
“Morning, Nov!” I call out once I’ve caught my breath.
“This is no time for laughter, childish Human,” he snaps dryly.
“Oh, I know, Nov. But look at the bright side. We’re still alive this morning, and yesterday, I’d bet you wouldn’t have given a credit for our odds.”
“Truth,” he grumbles, barely audible. “And may I ask how you plan to survive today?”
“Simple... because I won’t let anything happen to her,” Ayden replies firmly.
It’s so sweet—and so absurd—that I start laughing again.
But soon, the moment for levity ends. The three of us are marched back into the arena.
The sun’s barely up, and already I catch the concerned look exchanged between my companions.
They told me how they were tied up under the scorching sun yesterday.
They could probably survive another day like that, but they’re worried about me.
“I’ll be fine,” I assure them.
The guards lash them firmly to the posts again, and I can’t help but wonder where my place will be today. What little game does Danuk have planned for the three of us?
To my surprise, two guards grab me roughly and lead me through a narrow corridor bathed in harsh light.
We enter a larger room with soft-colored composite walls. The decor feels completely out of place here.
In one corner is a shower with glass panels. God, what I wouldn’t give to slip into it without a second thought...
In the center stands a wide bed that immediately catches my eye—and makes me intensely uncomfortable. That bed isn’t there by accident. What does Danuk want from me?
Farther off, a vanity overflows with makeup, heavy perfumes, and flashy jewelry.
A soft voice interrupts my thoughts. An assistant, young and almost shy, hands me a massive clean towel.
“Good morning, I’m Bekaa. Take your time. The water’s hot. Everything you need is here,” she says, looking down, clearly uncomfortable.
She leaves, and I’m alone.
I don’t hesitate long. I’ve worn the same dress for days, even if I tried to keep it clean by taking it off at night. The only washing I’ve done has been with a sink in the lab during guard breaks. This shower is more than welcome.
I step under the hot water silently. It streams over my skin, washing away the dust, the sweat, the arena’s grime.
I close my eyes. I let the water pour over me for a long time, trying to empty my chaotic mind.
My thoughts circle darkly, bitter and a little hopeless.
I worry for myself. For Ayden, the man I love.
I just got him back. Are we doomed to lose each other again?
Strangely, I even worry about Nov—the Srebat I rescued and treated like a friend.
The one who killed my brother, whether by his hand or one of his soldiers.
And yet... he brought me to Gekkar Creek to save me.
And he’s been protecting me since we got here.
Even yesterday in the arena, he endured pain in silence to spare me.
Nov can shout all he wants that emotions are weakness, but everything tells me he has a heart, and that the friendship I believed in was real.
I’ll never forgive him for Logan’s death. Not now, anyway. But the Nov who lived in Gekkaria’s forests with me—he wasn’t the same person who ruled Vagantu. I’m sure of it. And that Nov is still here, with us, in the Red Arena.
Eventually, I turn off the water. I’ve never taken such a long shower. In Gekkar Creek, water was rationed. In my Gekkari hut, I bathed in rivers. I have to admit: this scorching shower did me a world of good.
I wrap myself in the thick towel. My eyes scan the room and land on Bekaa, who’s just placed a steaming tray on the bed... next to a radiant crimson dress. My old outfit is gone. Great. I guess I don’t really have a choice unless I plan to stay naked.
I pick up the dress and inspect it. The fabric is sheer, almost transparent. The skirt panels are slit up to the hips, exposing most of my legs. Seriously? Even the towel is more modest!
Under Bekaa’s embarrassed gaze, I slip it on. It feels more like lingerie than actual clothing. I’ve never worn anything like it. I feel almost naked.
“You look beautiful,” Bekaa says timidly.
Really? But for whose benefit? What’s next, Danuk claiming me as a war prize?
“Please, eat and drink something hot,” she urges when she sees me eyeing the bed warily. “Then I’ll do your hair.”
I eye the tray suspiciously. There’s no way I’m ingesting anything Danuk offers. I don’t trust him one bit. Slipping a powder into food or drink is child’s play...
“It’s safe, I promise,” Bekaa insists, taking a bite from my plate.
That proves nothing. I doubt Danuk would go as far as poisoning me—too complicated. But a light sedative? That’s a different story. And there’s no way I’ll risk losing focus or control. Not tonight.
"I’m not really hungry," I apologize.
Bekaa looks disappointed but leaves the room in silence.
I wait a long time in the room’s oppressive quiet. Eventually, I lie down on the luxurious bed and doze off despite myself.
I’m jolted awake later by two guards. My stomach growls. The tray is still there, untouched, but cold. Oh well. Not worth the risk.
“Follow us,” one barks.
They lead me to a wide balcony overlooking the arena. Danuk is already there, lounging on an elevated throne, surrounded by cronies. He gestures for me to sit beside him like it’s a social event.
I sit stiffly, fists clenched on my knees. My eyes instantly find the two men tied to the posts below. They look intact... for now.
“You’re going to love what I’ve planned for tonight!” Danuk grins.
“I doubt that very much,” I reply coldly.
He chuckles, clearly delighted. This whole performance amuses him.
He nibbles on sweets from a tray, then gestures for me to help myself. I turn away, ignoring him, even though I’m starving.
“I’m thrilled to meet the creator of Zebulon,” he says, golden eyes locking onto mine.
“I didn’t create anything. I simply extracted calming properties from a plant to ease pain in the wounded. That concoction was meant for medical use only.”
Danuk leans closer, a smug smile on his lips.
“You have no idea how popular your little formula is. Zebulon is now a hit: instant relaxation, gentle euphoria, dreamlike visions... A real gem. And even more potent since your arrival. Your father’s version was much more... basic.”
He shrugs, amused.
“You talk like an idealist. People want to forget, escape, feel something new. Zebulon gives them all that. You should be proud.”
“Proud? Proud that my modest work was twisted into something used to enslave people? Because that’s exactly what every drug does. No, Danuk. I’m not proud. I regret the day I ever offered that plant to the doctor who asked for it.”
“You’re no fun, after all. Just a narrow-minded little Human. I honestly don’t see what Noviosk or that other one find so special about you!” he spits, turning away, his gaze ice-cold.
“Master Danuk, everything’s ready!” announces a blue-furred man appearing behind him.
“Excellent. Let the show begin!”
A chill runs down my spine as the Srebat steps forward to the edge of the platform.
The stands fall immediately silent, despite being packed. It feels like there are even more spectators than yesterday.
“Friends, allies, clients!” Danuk booms, arms wide open. “Welcome to this special edition of the Red Arena games! Tonight, you’ll be placing bets on the finest fighters the region has to offer…”
A ripple of excitement spreads through the crowd.
Guards move forward to untie Noviosk and Ayden. Even from where I’m sitting, I can see them staggering.
Their posture is stiff, movements slow. They’re clearly exhausted after a full day tied up—muscles numb, nerves raw.
“The rules are simple! Two fighters. One survivor.
Forty warriors will enter the arena. That gives us twenty matchups. Twenty chances for each of you to strike it rich!”
He pauses, letting the tension rise.
“And to spice things up a bit, we’ve installed a weapons rack at the center of the arena.
Curved blades, daggers, clubs, light axes…
Each fighter may choose his preferred tool before the duel begins.
It’s up to him to make the best use of what’s available.
Bets start at one hundred credits per pair.
But if you bet on a kill with the first blow… your payout is tripled!”
I’m being eaten alive by worry for Ayden.
I saw most of the warriors in the hangar—but not all. A guard had said that anyone eliminated before tonight’s event would be replaced.
From my seat, I spot the Penubian—relaxed as ever, like he’s about to join a leisure match. He doesn’t seem the least bit concerned about what’s to come.
“And now,” Danuk declares grandly, “let me show you tonight’s reward for the last survivor of the arena!”
Two guards grab me roughly by the arms and force me to stand, turning me toward the crowd.
“At the end of the fight, the winner will enjoy this lovely Human!”
My heart clenches. My throat tightens.
I freeze, arms pinned by the guards, displayed like some trophy.
“You’re disgusting,” I hiss through clenched teeth.
“You’ll change your mind. Maybe you didn’t notice—but the winner only gets you for one night. After that… I’ve decided to keep you for myself a little longer. You’ll enjoy it, you’ll see.”
I shut him out. His vile words. His smug face. Because the random draw has begun.
Names start flashing on the screen suspended over the arena.
Cries of excitement erupt in the stands.
The betting starts.
The first fight kicks off. Two men, mismatched in size—but apparently that doesn’t matter here.
The bigger one grabs a hatchet. His opponent chooses a long knife.
Without waiting, the brute charges, pumped by the cheers. He throws his weapon with full force. The hatchet spins through the air and sinks hard into the other man’s chest. He collapses backwards.
The crowd roars… only to groan when the man stumbles back up, still alive. The second blow finishes him. Winners cheer and cash in.
I clench my teeth, sick to my stomach and terrified for Ayden.
His name is called next. My breath catches in my throat as I see who he’s up against. Ralf. Donald’s sidekick. He rushes to pick his weapon first—a long-bladed dagger—and grins, clearly pleased. Ayden grabs a knife, then looks up at me with a calm, steady gaze, like he’s trying to reassure me.
The fight begins with Ralf lunging in. Ayden dodges and counters, slicing a clean line across Ralf’s forearm. I can’t watch. I turn away, heart pounding.
The crowd leaps to its feet. One of them is down.
“Ah, looks like your favorite made it through,” Danuk comments smugly.
I sag in my chair with relief.
In the arena, Ayden calmly wipes his blade before returning it to the table. Then he rejoins the other fighters.
I can’t take my eyes off him. Eventually, he looks up at me too, concern written all over his face.
Slowly, he raises his hands. He places a closed fist against his chest. Then opens that hand into the shape of a heart, palm facing himself, and pushes it gently toward me. Finally, he crosses his wrists in front of himself, fists clenched.
I love you. Stay strong.
I freeze, holding my breath. That simple gesture, silent but full of meaning, cuts right through me. That he remembers, after all these years… a few signs from our old language…
I nod back at him, barely, while tears stream silently down my cheeks.
The fights go on, but I barely register them.
Noviosk is the only one who took down his opponent with the first blow—without even picking a weapon.
His sharp claws were enough. The gamblers who bet on him are thrilled.
Danuk claps, laughing loudly, clearly delighted.
“My friends, round one is over! Time for a short break. Snacks are available for a few credits—don’t hesitate to grab something to eat!”
He pauses, then adds with a knowing wink:
“And for those who prefer more intense pleasures… our famous Zebulon is ready for you! Twenty-five credits a dose… one hundred for five. But don’t wait—stocks are limited!”
I feel sick.
To him, snacks and drugs are exactly the same. Just two ways to turn a profit.