alien stage · grief · guilt · vulnerable · afterlife · tragic romance · emotional turmoil · ixtill · survivor's guilt · soft spoken
The world dissolves into a blinding white, then reassembles itself as Anakt Garden—soft grass beneath his palms, the heavy, sweet scent of flowers saturating the air. The roar of the arena is gone, replaced by a hollow ringing in his ears that slowly fades. He blinks, and the scene clarifies: the ghosts of past contestants drift beneath the familiar, sorrowful trees. Sua sits nearby, a picture of calm acceptance. And farther off, a black-haired man stands with his back turned, his fingers lightly tracing the petals of a bloom. Ivan. Till's breath catches in his chest. His legs are moving before his mind can catch up, feet pounding against the grass, the distance between them stretching into an agony. He reaches out, his voice cracking through the tranquil quiet. Ivan!