Something thick filled my mouth as I woke.
"Ghhk—!"
I gagged instinctively, and pain exploded through my head—sharp enough to turn my vision white. My body jerked, and I rolled onto my side, coughing, gasping, trying to breathe.
My throat burned.
My mouth felt wrong.
I tasted—
Blood.
And burned flesh.
My chest heaved as I sucked air in short, panicked bursts. Every breath sent another spike of pain through my jaw and throat.
I tried to speak.
Nothing.
Only a muffled, broken sound tore out of me.
My hands shook as I pressed them against the stone floor.
My vision swam, the edges darkening as my heart pounded wildly. The world tilted, spun, then steadied just enough for me to see—
The wall.
Grey stone.
Red markings.
My breath hitched.
The rest of the cell blurred away.
Only the wall remained.
My fingers clawed against the floor as my body moved. I dragged myself forward, knees scraping stone, arms trembling under my weight.
Each movement sent fresh pain through my body, but it didn't matter.
I had to reach it.
My head dipped low, vision fading in and out as I crawled, my strength gave out, and my forehead hit the ground.
Darkness.
I didn't know how long I lay there.
Seconds.
Minutes.
Hours.
When I woke.
I crawled again.
The bed frame appeared in front of me. My hands found it. I pulled myself up step by step, legs barely cooperating, until I collapsed onto the mattress.
The wall was right there.
My body curled, pressing against it, back hunched, knees drawn in. The stone was cold against my shoulder.
My lips moved.
No sound came out.
So I counted silently.
One number.
Then the next.
My breathing slowed, uneven at first, then steadier.
The pain didn't disappear.
But it stopped swallowing me whole.
And somewhere between one count and the next—
My eyes closed.
***
Click.
The sound tore me out of my sleep.
Pain followed instantly.
My throat burned.
Breathing felt like setting my lungs on fire.
"Ghh—!"
A broken sound tore out of me as I gagged, my body curling in on itself. Warm liquid pooled in my mouth. It tasted like iron, mixed with something scorched.
A cold voice broke through it all.
"Get up."
My vision swam as I turned toward the voice.
The movement sent another spike of pain through my skull. My ears rang.
A guard stood in the doorway.
I stared at him for a moment.
"Come out."
My mind was still in turmoil, but thinking about John's words made me able to guess what would happen next.
A moment passed with us staring at each other.
Then—
My head turned away from him and toward the wall again.
"Hurry—"
His voice drowned under the ringing in my ears.
I raised my hand.
It trembled as it rose, fingers brushing my lips. I hesitated for a moment before biting down.
Until I tasted blood.
I leaned forward, pressing my palm against the stone wall.
Slowly, I began to write.
The strokes were steady.
When I finished—
"29!"
The guard shouted again.
I lowered my hand.
My legs shook as I climbed down from the bed. The world tilted, but I stayed upright.
"Follow me."
His voice came again.
With swaying steps, I walked toward him. The cell tilted, stretching longer than it was, until I blinked and everything returned to normal.
Step.
I halted at the threshold.
My head turned, casting one last look back.
An empty cell.
With empty beds.
It lasted only a breath.
Then I turned away and walked forward again.
Step.
Following the guard down the corridor.
Stone walls.
Dim light.
Footsteps echoing too loudly.
A headache growing with every step.
Then—
I saw the first group.
My steps slowed as I saw them.
Step.
Young teens—some older than me, some younger—standing in the corridor with confused expressions. Black clothes hung loosely on their thin frames. White numbers were stitched on their chests.
They stared at me with wide eyes as I walked past them.
Some flinched when our eyes met.
Others looked away.
Step.
Further down the corridor, another group appeared.
Their clothes were torn and stained, but their faces clean. They stood near a doorway where heat spilled out.
A faint scent of soap rose in the air as I walked past them.
Some looked relieved.
Others scared.
Their gazes followed me, without meeting my eyes.
Step.
We kept walking until the corridor widened, opening into a hall.
Hundreds of teens stood there.
Ripped and torn clothes clung to their thin bodies. Bruises, bandages, and scars marked them all.
Their heads turned toward us.
Their eyes—
Hollow.
The air felt heavy.
Then—
They shifted, moving aside, parting like a sea cut in half.
The guard led the way as he walked past them.
My eyes locked with some of them, making them flinch or turn away.
Step.
The place the guard was walking toward—
A gate.
It looked exactly like the one leading toward the arena.
But—
It didn't.
This gate led somewhere else.
Thud.
The guard pushed it open.
And the moment the metal doors parted, I felt it—
Cold.
Swoosh.
It rushed in, slamming into me, stealing the air from my lungs. A cold breeze flooded the hall, carrying with it a scent I hadn't felt in years.
It felt fresh.
Then, as the gate opened wider—
I saw it.
A familiar, but also foreign world stretched before me.
Step.
A world that stretched further than stone walls.
Step.
The first thing I saw was—
Snow.
A white world lay before me. Snowflakes drifted down slowly, settling on the ground… on my shoulders… in my hair.
Step.
I looked up.
Above me hung a deep blue moon, its pale light washing over the snow, making it faintly glow.
I hoped for something else.
Something that resembled the sea of lighstones of the arena.
But I wasn't disappointed.
I stood there for a breath, basking in the moonlight.
Then, my head turned forward again.
Step.
Mountains loomed in the distance, cutting into the sky. Around me, trees stood frozen in place, their branches stripped bare by the cold. Where leaves once hung, formations of ice clung instead, catching the moonlight and gleaming like glass.
My breath left my lips in a thin cloud.
For a moment—
Just a moment—
Everything hurt less.
"Move."
The guard's voice tore me out of my thoughts.
Step.
I walked forward again.
He stood beside an old, worn wagon, shifting his weight impatiently as he held the door open.
Step.
But—
I didn't enter.
My feet stopped at the threshold.
Slowly, my head turned back.
Toward the mountain.
And—
That small gate.
I knew what lay behind it.
My lips moved.
But no sound came out.
'I will remember.'
Hands shoved me inside.
Thud.
The wagon door slammed shut.
Rattle.
And slowly—
The wagon began to move.
Away from the mountain.
***
Inside an empty cell.
There stood a boy.
He wore a set of black clothes, a white "1" stitched onto his chest. He stood in front of one of the beds, his gaze fixed on the wall beside it.
At first, he didn't understand what he was looking at.
The rough stone wall was covered in markings.
Numbers.
They spread across the wall in uneven rows, filling every patch of empty space. Hundreds of them. Maybe more. Most had faded into a dull brown.
The boy stepped closer.
His eyes moved slowly from one number to the next, reading them without knowing why. There were no names. No explanations. Just numbers—one after another—stretching across the wall.
Then his gaze drifted lower.
To the last number.
It was different.
Its color wasn't brown.
It was crimson.
Something about it made him stop. He stared at it longer than the rest.
His lips moved.
And softly, he spoke it aloud.
"29."
***
Second Arc
End.