I continue to not react, as now isn’t the ideal time to wring his neck. Perhaps at the finish line…
“The audience is hungry for drama, for conflict,” the Host continues, pacing now with an excited energy that makes my instincts bristle. “They hate to see cooperation among so-called enemies. They want bloodshed! And this season, they’ll get their wish.”
I nod, expecting as much. Whatever truce I had with my rivals, I only went along with it for as long as it served my purposes. If I must return to violence to secure my mate, then I’ll do so without hesitation.
She is too important, and the stakes are too high.
A century without hope is a long time to cling to the shadows of a dying world. For a hundred years, I have watched my people wither and fade, their spirits crushed under the relentless weight of a future that promised nothing but extinction. The plague robbed us of more than the fertility of our females; it stole our will to fight, our passion for life, and our ability to dream of tomorrow.
Of the three races who rule Mythos, the plague hit my people first, a cruel twist of fate that made us the harbingers of despair for the rest of the planet. We Aquarians, once the proud rulers of the oceans, now watched as our kingdoms fell into silence, one empty cradle at a time.
The Saberkai and Drakari didn’t know just how desperate our situation was, our kingdoms hidden from them in the deep oceans. But when the plague came for them too, we could no longer keep it a secret.
I remember the early days, before the plague, when the oceans of Mythos teemed with life and laughter. My mother would speak of a time when the waters would be filled with the songs of our people. But that time felt like a distant memory, a tale from another age, as our underwater cities became more and more desolate, until they resembled ruins more than a thriving civilization.
For a century, I have been the Heir Apparent in name only, with no queen to stand by my side, no children to carry on my legacy. I have watched my father, King Tritonos, age before his time, his once vibrant demeanor now shrouded in the same sorrow that claimed the hearts of our people.
I could never become a true king without a female of my own, and for a long time, I thought I would die a prince.
But then I was abducted by cruel captors from the sky, forced to participate in a competition.
And for the longest time, my captors teased me with the idea of curing the plague, or at least awarding me with a compatible female.
However, I had always sensed these were empty promises, as did Draven and Vornas.
It was why we only put in a half effort in our captors’ trivial game.
Until last season, when the three human females from a planet called “Earth” were finally introduced as prizes.
And one of those females, who I only had the pleasure of watching from afar, changed the entire game for me.
The image of Mia, with those large brown eyes and the determined set of her jaw, fills me with a fierce protectiveness. She is not of my world, yet she is unknowingly the key to saving us all.
I know that I must be cautious, that I cannot allow the intensity of my need to overwhelm her. She must choose me, not out of fear or desperation, but out of a shared desire for a future that we can build together.
I’ve never been one to believe in fate or destiny, but the pull I feel toward Mia is undeniable. It’s as if an invisible thread connects us, tugging at my very core. I wonder if she feels it too, this inexplicable draw that seems to defy all logic and reason.
The thought of her being just as enthralled by me as I am by her stirs a rare hope.
Does she sense the potential for something greater between us?
Or does she see me as an enemy to be feared?
The path ahead is fraught with danger and uncertainty, but I am ready to face whatever challenges lie in wait.
For Mia, and for my people, I will emerge victorious.
There is no other option.
Chapter 3
Mia
I step out of my cell, the drones’ cold metal appendages wrapped around my arms like unwelcome bracelets. Their grip is firm but not painful, as if they’re trying to be polite while kidnapping me. Again.
The sterile white corridor stretches ahead, a path I’ve walked before but never wanted to see again. My bare feet slap against the cool floor, each step a reminder of how vulnerable I am in this place.
A sleek transport pod waits for me, its surface so shiny I can almost see my reflection.
Great, now I can watch myself being carted off to my potential doom.
The door opens with a dramatic hiss, and I’m guided inside like a VIP to the world’s worst party. As I sink into the plush seat, my stomach does a backflip. I know what’s coming, and the waiting is killing me. It’s like being stuck in the world’s longest line for a roller coaster you don’t even want to ride.
The pod suddenly lifts off with a gentle hum, and suddenly I’m face-to-face with a view that would make travel bloggers weep.
Paradise Loop stretches out before me, a patchwork quilt of nature’s greatest hits. Forests, rivers, oceans, canyons, and dozens of alien biomes blend together in a ring that seems to go on forever. It’s beautiful, yet I know this slice of paradise is really just a gilded cage.
As we soar over the landscape, I feel a mix of awe and dread. Each breathtaking vista is also a potential deathtrap, a challenge I’ll have to overcome if I want to see my students again, or to feel the Texas sun on my face. The enormity of it all hits me, and I have to remind myself to breathe.
Finally, the pod begins its descent, and the colosseum rises into view, a massive, imposing structure. With a gentle thud, it lands, and the door slides open. I step out into the artificial sunlight that’s somehow both too bright and not warm enough. I squint, raising a hand to shield my eyes as I take in the towering walls of the colosseum.
And then I hear it—that familiar metallic clank that sends a shiver down my spine. It’s the sound of impending doom wrapped in a game show host’s smile. The Host is coming, and with him, the start of a fight for survival I never asked for.
I square my shoulders, bracing myself for The Host’s inevitable theatrics. As if on cue, his voice booms across the arena, dripping with artificial cheer.
“Mia, what a delight to have you grace our stage once more!” He grins, but it comes off more predatory than welcoming. “Ready to raise the stakes this season?”
