My Wild Pet (Whispers from the Imperial Cage #2)

Chapter 65

CHAPTER 65

Aefre

The good news from Celestial Spire security spreads quickly among the trainers, Gael the Returner has been arrested.

I study the holographic display, the image of the man in question flickering before me. He looks unassuming, his features plain, and his clothing deliberately understated. He doesn’t fit the larger-than-life stories whispered among the pets, but that’s no surprise. So-called heroes rarely do.

Kaelin stands at my side with his arms crossed. “It seems too convenient.”

“Security has been tracking his movements for weeks. So it’s not that convenient.”

“This man looks too calm to be Gael. Stealing pets from the Grand Championships is one of his favorite activities. Proving to us that he has allies everywhere. So, I don’t think this is him.”

I glance at Kaelin. “You think the man they have in custody is a decoy?”

“It’s what I’d do if I were Gael. Let the trainers relax, make them think the threat is gone. Meanwhile, his network continues to operate unnoticed.”

I tap a finger against the edge of the console. Kaelin has a tendency to see shadows even when there are none. But Gael is a man of strategy, a figure who has built his reputation on slipping through the cracks, but the question is, would he sacrifice one of his own to steal a few human pets this year? There’s no doubt this man in custody will be sold into slavery at Gala or put to death.

“It’s possible,” I admit. “But unlikely.”

“You’re too trusting, Aefre. Gael didn’t survive this long by being careless.”

“Trust has nothing to do with it,” I reply. “This is about probabilities. Security has done their job. If you want to keep chasing shadows, feel free. But I have a Grand Championship to win.”

I stand within the trainer’s control chamber, an enclosed balcony overlooking the arena that has been transformed into The Eternal Convergence. A hush falls over the spectators as everyone waits for me to begin.

Below me is Phase One: Separation. The first part of three phases. The Separation is a labyrinth in constant motion with walls grinding into new configurations with each passing minute and those same walls separate the pairs. I watch as Ash and Ember are forced apart as large metal gates slam down between them.

The labyrinth’s massive overhead screens spring to life, each one split in half. On the left, I see Ash at the entrance to a tunnel wreathed in swirling, hallucinatory mist. On the right, Ember stands before a sealed chamber that rumbles ominously, as if containing some caged predator eager to be freed.

This is my moment to lead them to victory.

I open a channel to their collars, and the arena’s loud speaker so that the audience can follow along. I give my first command, my voice low and resonant:

“Ash, Ember. Begin.”

Instantly, the tunnel in front of Ash shifts. Purple lights blink on and off, and illusions spring up across the walls—images so realistic that if I didn’t know better, I’d swear Ember was really standing there, arms extended in a twisted parody of welcome. If she falters now, she’ll die. Pets die in this challenge every year—humans who fail to meet the Grand Championship standards. But Ash won’t be one of them. Her bond with Ember is strong. She’ll figure out these illusions. I must check on Ember.

I switch to Ember’s feed. He is bracing himself for whatever is behind that door eager for release. A mechanical hiss echoes across the chamber. The door slides open, and out leaps a terrifying creature I’ve only read about in ancient bestiaries, a six-legged Vraxis, each limb ending in a curved talon. I check my console. It’s a holograph. But it doesn’t matter for the crowd, they gasp in anticipation as it lunges. And it doesn’t matter for Ember either it can still kill him

“Ember. Strike beneath the jaw. That’s where its plating is weakest,” I tell him. He’s never seen this beast before as it’s an unusual one.

Ember reacts quickly, diving beneath the scything limbs. But not before the creature scores a nasty slash across his forearm.

The crowd erupts, savoring the blood and the violence.

I quickly check on Ash. She’s moved past the illusion of Ember. No surprise. They’re so close now, no hologram could compare to knowing the real thing. But now different illusions swirl around her, feeding on her worst memories. She staggers, pressing a hand to her temple. The labyrinth has triggered something akin to the Garden of Shadows challenge, except more intense, designed to exploit her guilt, her love, and her hidden terrors. Fears that she may not have even know she harbors, which are the most dangerous ones.

“Ash, ignore the figures around you,” I say as she is particularly drawn into a figure of a human man. I don’t have time to check who that is to her, but she seems mesmerized by his words. “Focus on the puzzle console. Left side, by the wall,” I say trying to guide her away from the voices surrounding her.

Ash, relieved by the sound of my voice, finds the glowing panel of cryptic glyphs, steps forward, and begins deciphering the puzzle. I watch her hands move and magnify the scene. She’s pressing the glyphs in the sequence we’ve practiced, but all it takes is one mistake, and the console will trigger an almost lethal charge.

Ash’s puzzle console emits a soft chime. The illusions around her blink out, leaving her momentarily startled. She survived the puzzle.

The corridor behind her cracks open, revealing a narrow path that leads deeper into the labyrinth.

“Good girl, Ash. Take the middle path forward.” I watch as she disappears from the camera’s view, moving forward into the darkness.

I turn my attention back to Ember. My prized pet roars from underneath the beast’s knee, driving a sharpened rod straight into the soft underside of the Vraxis’s jaw. Its limbs suddenly limp. Then Ember pulls himself up and staggers back.

The arena roars its approval and pride courses through me.

“Good boy, Ember. Now move on to the next challenge by following the corridor to your right. Ash is already ahead of you.”

Ember, battered but alive, walks into a new corridor as a portion of the floor slides aside to reveal a downward ramp. “Go down,” I instruct him.

My ring pulses with the tension of maintaining two separate audio feeds. I toggle them carefully, guiding both pets through the labyrinth’s rotating passages. This is the precarious balance of The Eternal Convergence. One trainer and two pets, who are entirely reliant on me for direction. Any hesitation on my part could be fatal.

Overhead, a massive digital countdown reminds the entire arena how little time remains for Phase One. My mind races as I quickly move from Ash’s perspective to Ember’s, anticipating pitfalls and problematic illusions. I feed them instructions, where to turn and how to handle the next obstacles.

They respond with resilience just as I’ve trained them to do. Every time Ash falters, I coax her forward with a crisp command. Every time Ember encounters new beasts; I deliver swift instructions to ensure he keeps fighting.

The final moments of Phase One arrive in a rush. Both cameras show them reaching identical metal doors at the far ends of the labyrinth. Ash is breathing hard. Her whole body is drenched in sweat and she’s shaking from the emotional turmoil the labyrinth has put her through. Ember clutches his wounded arm, blood still oozing between his fingers. They stop before their respective doors, waiting for me. They must press the buttons at the exact same time.

I open the comm links to both their collars. “Ash and Ember, put your right hands on the red buttons. On my mark, punch it. Three, two, one, push.”

The labyrinth’s walls grind to a halt. They have successfully passed Phase One. And relief washes over me like a physical wave.

Then, the lights dim, and the announcer’s voice booms over the loud speaker, “Phase One: Separation— Complete . Competitors, prepare for Phase Two: Reunion.”

The crowd explodes into cheers, but I’m not celebrating. Sweat beads along my neck. We have two more phases to get through before victory is ours.