Indra's Heart

THIRTY-FOUR

I drop the jewelry into the sand, watching the moon transform from a delightfully bright cream to a blinding gold before my very eyes. Though beautiful, it is not soothing and I yell into the stars for the return of my peace. Will I ever be freed from what could've been? Allow me to shoot into the sky if I cannot escape the heartache of the permanent separation.

"Leave me alone, Arya." My eyes flutter open to the sound of beeping machines and the disgruntled moans of other battered cadets. I blink, allowing my vision to better adjust to the harsh overhead lights.

We're stacked four to a room, all confined to hospital gurneys and wrapped in stained gauze. Some are injured far worse than others, but luckily, I'm among those who can at least lift my head up. An older version of Ferryn closely studies my actions, jotting something down on a clipboard.

"Take it easy there, champion. You have been through a lot." Dr. Nixon advises, pushing her glasses up on her button nose. The few graying strands in her cropped afro and the spotless white coat nearly dragging the floor are the features most distinguishing from her daughter.

"Nah, I don't deserve that title." I wince, easing back onto the fluffed pillow. "Champs actually win. Alezah effortlessly knocked me out."

"Well, you won seven out of eight so that counts for something." She chuckles good-naturedly. "If it makes you feel any better, Alezah also fainted. The referee had to check both of your pulses. When she came to, she graciously removed you from the arena."

"How kind of her." I deadpan, unable to shake the bitter feeling in my chest.

I got so close to the finish line just to falter before I could cross it. I guess I should just be more thankful that I didn't collapse during my seventh match.

Not that Jaxon would've minded.

"Just take it easy, alright?" Dr. Nixon swiftly exits the room to tend to other patients, her wrist transceiver buzzing with updates.

A nurse with straw colored hair brings a styrofoam cup of ice water to my bedside to assist with a small pain pill, and although I'm grateful for any relief, I wish it was the Castril potion instead.

"Do we not we all?" The corners of her lips turn upward in a closed-mouth smile.

"My bad. I didn't realize that I said that out loud." I tilt my head backward to down the medication and finish the water in seconds. She refills the tiny cup and leaves.

My fingers caress the cracked elf-eye fashioned around my neck, inspecting for more damage. Not once did I feel it heat up when I was fighting for my life. Has Sryx given up on me already? Or did she have hope that I'd pull through? The lump of worry forming in my throat makes it difficult to swallow my saliva.

Carefully lying back down, I slip in and out of sleep, waking up when the nightmares force me to. By the time evening turns into night, most of my fellow cadets have been discharged with their families besides them, leaving me yearning for mine. After all of the physical and emotional impairment today, I could use a little warmth from the people that I love the most.

The shadows of three figures appear in the hallway, and a wheelchair bound Cadet Marshall pauses in front of my open room door with a lopsided grin. Her eyes are hollow, her face discolored, and without a doubt in my mind, I know that I look the exact same way. "I am glad that you are okay."

"Likewise." I rasp, listening to the sound of her father's mechanical prosthetic legs push her away.

The blonde nurse returns with an empty gurney sometime later, a sympathetic smile upon her round face. "Doctor says that you are fine to leave tonight, but you will need an escort for your safety. Do you have anyone on the way? Because we can have a staff member arrange something if necessary."

I close my eyes, the blood in my eyelids visible underneath the hospital lights. "No."

"I will take him." A voice calls, and both of us stare at the woman lingering on the threshold. She looks younger, less intimidating without makeup and her professional attire. It's somewhat comforting.

"Oh! Advisor Kelli, that is perfect." The nurse beams, helping me into a wheelchair and placing a plastic bag of limited medication in my lap. I'm pushed down the sterile corridor and out of the automatic doors, where a shiny gray vehicle awaits. "Please take a single tablet everyday for soreness and get plenty of rest. Goddess bless you, Cadet Stone."

I remain quiet as I'm loaded into the passenger seat, biting my lip to stifle any pained grunts. The crunch of the gravel beneath the tires serves as audible stimulation since there is no music. I prefer the sound of rocks over any siren songs right now anyway.

Leaning on the headrest, I stare out the windows with low eyes, watching the civilians wind down. "'Thanks for picking me up, Kelli."

"It is nothing, really." She shakes her head. "I figured that it would make more sense to deliver this in person."

One of her hands leaves the steering wheel to pass me an envelope, and my spirits begin to lift. I haven't received anything from back home in a while so this couldn't have come at a better time. "Cadet Stone, you have been cordially invited to have dinner at the House of Fates with Alpha Chantel this Friday."

"What?" My smile fades, looking over the velvet sapphire seal. "Why?"

"She was very impressed by your performance today." Kelli shrugs. "It may not be what you were expecting, but it is good news nonetheless. A driver will come for you an hour before you are supposed to show up for dinner. Do not be late."

"Okay." I sigh and neither one of us speaks for the rest of the ride. I'm both relieved and unnerved when we pull up to the brick dormitory building, unbuckling my seatbelt and turning to the driver as soon as she parks. "Will Jaxon get away with unnecessarily murdering someone in broad daylight like that?"

"Yes, because technically he did not break the rules. Cadet Whitaker was the first one out of the arena. Nobody is allowed to interfere during an official match. That is the way it is. That is the way it has always been."

"So reducing the amount of soldiers that we need to fight the loyals makes perfect sense? Ending an innocent life proves that you deserve to be in The Elite?" I snap. "What the fuck is going on?"

"I am simply the messenger." She speaks indifferently. "Look at the bright side, you have more space now."

"Your message would be different if it was Luke that had died." I pull myself out of the car and hobble towards the entrance, listening to Kelli switch gears behind me. "Everybody is so full of shit."

"Goodnight, Cadet Stone." She mumbles, leaving me alone with my thoughts. Maybe Kelli doesn't deserve my attitude, but right now, I'm too angry to shut it off. Still too shocked to accept it.

I unlock the door labeled with the numbers three, five, and two, and flick the light switch on. The left side of the room has been completely cleaned out, erasing all memory of the person who slept there just this morning. Only an empty metal bed frame and open cabinet doors remain. They've even collected his hygiene products.

I migrate to the shower, watching dirt and crusted blood swirl down the drain as I scrub my bruised skin.

"I'm sorry, buddy." I whisper, twisting the squeaky knob until the water abruptly comes to a trickle. "I guess we won't get to frolic in the butterfly pastures after all."