Some battles are waged within.

This one might just be the biggest I’ll ever face.

That truth is the only thing keeping me from crumpling onto the floor in a pitiful heap.

Instead, I spin and duck to avoid the blade aimed my way.

The cold steel sang a sorrowful tune as it swept through the air.

I track its arc and force my body to still before it can claim an offering from me.

A reckless gamble that a shred of him still remained, enough to pull the blow back from death.

Time slowed with its final deadly arc through the air.

Only its mournful sound and our heavy breathing reverberated in the shadow-swarmed arena we fought within.

A small twitch at the corner of his eyes was the only tell I had that he was still within the body he no longer controlled.

His blade slowed its descent, pivoting slightly mid-arc.

The eyes within the shadows around us stilled with bated breath.

“I trust you,” I breathe out slowly as his blade points directly to my throat.

His fingers tremble as he fights to maintain a solid grasp around its hilt.

The icy bite of his blade grazes my skin.

A chill ran up my spine as I raise my gaze to meet his.

His normally tumultuous ocean eyes were like putrid water, still and unfeeling.

“Aidas.” The word, barely a whisper, hung between us. It was as if they stood on opposite ends of the arena instead of the two inches that separated their bodies.

His eyes crinkle at the word, but the rest of his body remained unmoving. His breath halted, like he was awaiting instruction.

My heart pounds like a drum within me.

I flick my gaze to the right where the darkest shadows converge, just once, then back to him.

I hold my breath and study his face for a response knowing he cannot speak at the moment.

The shadows swarm the perimeter around us. They stir, unsettled, like they are hungry.

A small dip of his chin is the only indication I have that he understands what I’m trying to tell him.

We only have one chance to get out of this. If we can’t pull it off, we will face worse than death.

The Caretakers of the Arena were known for neither mercy nor compassion.

Any who have tried to escape or refused to participate in their twisted machinations they called “Trials” were taken to their underground prison. They vanished without a trace. All that may have remained were indistinguishable screams that could be heard for miles above ground.

We had been in their waiting stalls for weeks knowing what lay ahead of us.

But we used that time to plan and prepare, determined to live.

“Vera.” My name punches out from his bared teeth, his effort to gain control of his body a clear battle within.

My heart skips a beat. “I trust you.” I repeat the words, louder this time.

Without warning, he shoves me to the ground before whirling to the right.

His muscles flex as he hurls his blade into the darkest shadows.

An unworldly scream rips through the air. It was the sound of a thousand voices in pain laced into one.

The shadows retreat, twitching in agony, slinking away to reveal what had remained hidden.

A single black mirrored door looms at the far wall. A mocking sentry in the hell we’ve endured.

Its reflective shimmer pulses with visions of sanctuary.

It beckons us to enter.