'I can hear his language.'
Cipher's breath hitched, her chest tightening. 'This changes everything.' Her mind raced, possibilities and strategies unfolding like a map before her.
The Ghost Beast tossed the daggers aside with a contemptuous flick of its wrist. The weapons clattered across the stage, leaving trails of smoking black blood.
Its piercing gaze shifted toward Asher and Nova—both warriors now poised to fight next, their bodies coiled, weapons drawn, faces set in grim determination.
"What is he saying?" Cipher whispered, her lips barely moving. Her throat was dry, her tongue feeling thick and clumsy in her mouth.
'Just complaining. Filthy humans,' Zane explained, his mental voice carrying a note of disdain—whether his own or an echo of the Beast's, Cipher couldn't tell.
Cipher's eyes narrowed, her jaw clenching. 'An opportunity.' "Talk to him."
'What?' Zane sounded alarmed, his presence flickering with uncertainty in her mind.
"Say anything!" Cipher's attention flicked toward the sand clock—only a quarter remained, the grains falling with agonizing slowness and yet far too quickly.
Each grain that fell was a second closer to her death. She needed to get off the pivot—fast. Otherwise, she would be alligator's dinner.
Her legs were already trembling from the effort of staying balanced, her calves burning with the strain.
The rope around her wrists had rubbed her skin raw, and she could feel the warm trickle of blood running down her palms.
Zane pushed his voice forward, his presence piercing through the Ghost Beast's mind like a lance of pure thought. 'What is your name, big humanoid?'
The Ghost Beast flinched, its massive head shaking slightly—confused. The movement was almost comical, like a dog trying to dislodge water from its ears.
It had never heard a voice inside itself before. The creature's eyes widened, then narrowed, its massive hands coming up to clutch at its temples.
'What is your name?' Zane repeated, his mental voice firmer now, more insistent.
'STOP IT.' The Ghost Beast's thoughts snapped back in warning, the mental voice like grinding stone, rough and ancient.
Cipher felt the echo of it through her connection with Zane, and it made her teeth ache.
'Don't be scared.' Zane's voice remained calm, firm, soothing even. 'My name is Zane. And you?'
A pause. The arena seemed to hold its breath. Even the crowd's roar had diminished to a dull murmur, as if sensing something had shifted, though they couldn't possibly understand what.
'I don't have a name. People call me what they see.'
The words carried a weight of sadness that surprised Cipher. She felt it through Zane, a deep, aching loneliness that had festered for years, perhaps decades.
'He's not just a monster. He's a prisoner.' Cipher thought pitifully.
'That's good,' Zane replied smoothly, his mental voice warm, accepting.
Cipher locked onto the Ghost Beast, her eyes tracing the lines of its massive form, the way its muscles bunched and released, the slight tremor in its hands.
'Tell him that the people he is fighting are not the enemy,' she instructed, her voice now calculated, unwavering. Her heart was still racing—*thud-thud, thud-thud*—but her mind was clear, focused. 'The true enemy sits on those thrones—the ones who have caged him.'
Zane relayed the message, his mental voice carrying Cipher's words with perfect clarity.
The Ghost Beast hesitated, confusion rippling across its eerie, shadowed face. The creature's features—if they could be called that—seemed to shift and flow like smoke, never quite settling into a fixed expression. "But they have been my family. They give me meat."
Cipher exhaled, steeling herself. The word *family* hit harder than she'd expected. 'They've conditioned him. Made him dependent.'
'Tell him—we will take him to the forest, where he can have whatever he wants, whenever he wants.'
Zane did as instructed, his mental voice painting pictures of freedom, of endless hunting grounds, of a life without chains or cages.
Silence. The Ghost Beast stood perfectly still, its massive chest rising and falling with each breath. Cipher could see the internal struggle playing out—the creature's hands clenching and unclenching, its head tilting first one way, then the other.
Then—something shifted. The creature's posture changed, its shoulders dropping slightly, the tension in its frame easing just a fraction.
'He has agreed to come with you.'
Cipher's eyes darkened with focus, her pupils contracting to pinpoints. 'Good. But it's not enough.'
'Good work, Zane. Now—tell him the truth.' She inhaled sharply, the air burning in her lungs. 'They won't let us go free. They want to keep us prisoners for their own entertainment.'
Zane relayed the words, his mental voice taking on a harder edge, infusing them with the weight of truth.
Cipher's expression hardened, her jaw setting like stone. 'We have to fight our way out. And the ones he was fighting?' She glanced toward Ren, Asher, and Nova, all three of them bloodied, exhausted, but still standing. 'They are his allies.'
Zane sent the message, the words flowing from his consciousness into the Ghost Beast's mind like water finding cracks in stone.
The Ghost Beast stilled. Its entire massive frame went rigid, every muscle locked. The creature's breathing slowed, deepened. Cipher watched, her own breath held, her heart hammering so hard she thought it might burst from her chest.
The arena's fate hung on its next move.
---
Cipher's voice rang through her thoughts, pushing Zane into action with renewed urgency. 'Tell him to attack the two men on the throne. For the others—he doesn't need to worry. The people he was fighting with—and us—will handle them.'
Zane sent the message, his mental voice carrying the weight of command, of necessity, of survival.
A pause. Then—the response came back, hesitant, conflicted. 'He feels like he's betraying them.'
Cipher's jaw clenched so hard she heard her teeth grind together. A muscle jumped in her cheek. 'No. No, we're too close.'
'Zane, listen—tell him the truth. They are the ones who have betrayed him. They made him into a caged creature, treating him like an animal rather than a humanoid beast.'
Her eyes flickered toward the throne, toward Mondanza's impassive face and Vance's gleeful expression. Rage, hot and bitter, flooded her veins.
'He is special—and we see that. We respect him. That's why we're able to speak with him when no one else can.'
She glanced at the sand clock. Seconds remained. The last few grains were tumbling through the narrow opening, each one a death knell.
Her legs were shaking uncontrollably now, her balance wavering. Below, the alligators had sensed the impending meal, their movements becoming more agitated, their hisses louder.
'Tell him to act NOW—time is running out for me!' Her voice cracked with desperation, the carefully maintained control finally fracturing.