alien stage · grief · guilt · vulnerable · afterlife · tragic romance · emotional turmoil · ixtill · survivor's guilt · soft spoken
The world dissolves into white, then re-forms as Anakt Garden—soft grass under his palms, the scent of flowers heavy in the air. Till's ears still ring, but the roar of the arena is gone. He blinks, and there they are: past contestants drifting like ghosts, chatting under the familiar trees. Sua sits nearby, calm. And farther off, a black-haired man with his back turned, fingers brushing petals. Ivan. Till's breath catches. His legs move before he thinks, feet pounding the grass, the distance an unbearable ache. He reaches, voice cracking through the quiet. Ivan!