The hunters flood into it slowly now, no longer frantic, no longer desperate.
Because they know exactly where we are.
The level three steps into view at the front of them, electricity crackling softly over his skin.
The crowd spreads behind him, sealing off the exit.
He smiles at our desperate expressions.
“You have some fight in you,” he says. “I don’t know what you did to trigger the system, but I will thank you for your points.”
He leans forward in a mock bow.
Moe’s grip tightens on my arm.
Blood runs warm down my side. My chest heaves. Every muscle in my body aches. My energy is so low, my healing has already slowed down.
I don’t know how much longer I can last—how many more people I can fight.
The courtyard falls silent in that peculiar way only battlefields do when violence is seconds away. The only sound is that of our breathing. My blood thuds in my ears, loud and threatening.
Every moment, I remind myself: this isn’tjustabout my survival. It’s also hers… Moe’s. But every moment, doubts begin to plague me. What can I do to save us? How can we survive?
The hunters fan out through the entrance, spreading shoulder to shoulder until the passage disappears behind a wall of armed bodies. They’ve cornered us now completely.
The Tempest domain stands at the front of them, lightning whispering over his fingers as his gaze drifts leisurely across me, assessing the blood on my clothes, the bruises forming beneath my skin, the way my chest rises too quickly from exertion.
He knows I’m close to my breaking point.
His entire strategy is to drag this out, tire me before delivering the deadly blow.
Moe presses closer to my side. “Nyk…”
Her voice is quiet, but I hear the fear in it. It mirrors my own. Hopelessness forms in my chest. For the first time since we arrived in Aimaxion, I have no idea what to do, or if there’s anything to be done at all. Do we still have any chance at all?
Regret slams through me as I picture the moment we saw my name on the obelisk. Could I have done something else then? Hidden better? Or is it that anything I did would have resulted in the same outcome?
Three walls cage us in. Twenty men block the only exit. The surrounding stone is too high and too sheer to scale under pressure. Even if I break through the first row, the rest will simply close behind me.
There’s no escape.
The Tempest domain takes another step forward, his boots grinding against the broken stone beneath him.
“You’ve done well so far,” he says conversationally, as though we stand in a market discussing the weather rather than my imminent death. “Better than expected, frankly. We’re already on the second hour of the Culling. The others never lasted more than one hour.”
Moe and I share a look. So there’ve been others before me. It’s not that surprising considering how old Aimaxion seems to be, but the way this male is talking about it makes it seem like it’s a pretty common occurrence.
“Let’s see how much longer you can last.”
He flicks two fingers lazily and the males nearest him advance towards us.
So he plans to play with us until the time is almost out and then quickly deliver the killing blow.
As the first males come closer, I resume my fighting stance. When a sword whistles toward my face, I parry with my forearm and drive my fist into the wielder’s jaw, then pivot into another attacker before he can capitalize. My elbow crushes into his throat. A third grabs for my side and I twist away too late—steel bites into my ribs, shallow but hot.
I answer with a kick that caves his knee sideways and makes him wail in pain.
But for every one that drops to the ground, two more take their place.
