SAVE POINT 37

Rosabella

I dug my nails into the flesh of my palms, fisting my hands so tight and, yet, trying to keep my face calm.

So they couldn't see.

So the two elders deciding the live-or-die fate of Joy couldn't tell how much I was truly sweating their next words.

I'd done the song and dance. I'd been leaping around this maypole for over an hour explaining the light in the pink-haired girl. How she was a discontinued Game Warden. How she fought for everything she loved. How she shouldn't be killed for something that was not in her...anymore. There was no darkness in her, but there was fear gathering in these people's eyes—glossy, dangerous and engulfing. ...Fear. Uncertainty. Terror.

And, like me trying to gloss over mine, they did the same. With my limited amount of Baddie Points left over to spend, it felt like my efforts were all but hopeless.

The two elders were dressed in long, flowing robes. Quietly, they tucked their hands beneath the fabric folds as their eyes shifted, whispering without words—exchanging that same shine in their eyes:

Fear.

How could I shake them out of it? How could I make them decide Joy wasn't a threat so we could both go home?

"We'd leave you be," I insisted, trying one last time. My desperate voice scraped up my sore throat—again—"We'd both leave this town. We're not going to stay here. Please. Help me spare an innocent's life." My words shuttered at the end—pitched.

I felt dizzy. Was it the sun beating down on my neck or the limited root powder supplements? I'd been trying to cut down on the dosage, and I'd been standing here, shifting from foot to foot, on this sandy ground out in the heat for over an hour. I stood with two elders between a cluster of thatched-roof houses. And, neither elder, it seemed—the man nor the woman—had made up their mind in my direction.

"We shall see when the voting starts. Perhaps we will change our minds—"

"The voting starts in five minutes," I protested weakly, watching the elder's eyes narrow.

Trust me, I was well aware that I sounded like I was begging at this point. Actually, I didn't sound like I was begging—I was begging. But the truth was that I didn't know what else to do. I didn't know how to make this better in five minutes.

I hadn't slept last night with worry. I couldn't let Joy die—

"Come on," the elder woman with the short hair grabbed me, almost kindly, by the arm, "As you noted, voting will commence soon. We only have a few minutes. We must hurry."

Hurry? I could barely lift my feet—or my head. Because the sinking feeling controlling my stomach kept telling me the same thing: I'd lost this fight. I'd lost Joy's life. The elder's WEREN'T convinced. It'd be a vote of 2 to 1 and Joy would...die.

Joy would die.

I swallowed, feeling exhaustion crumpling my knees. Tears stung in my eyes, but I wouldn't let them see. I shrugged off the elder's hold and turned away. I took a breath, and I lifted my head—lifted my chin. I didn't know where I’d get the strength from, but I'd get it. I had to face Joy and whatever the elders' decision was firmly. I had to do this. Out of respect for Joy. She'd be facing it like a warrior; I had to too.

I gritted my teeth together. And I compiled every bit of courage in me to walk towards the prison and the Questioning Room even as my shoulders and everything in me fell.

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I'd failed them.

I'd failed Joy.

I'd failed all the dragons they were holding imprisoned.

I'd failed that little girl...but, worst of all, I'd failed myself.

Why was trying so hard? Why had it pushed me to this limit? And did I have the strength to watch Joy die? I bit my lip. Because I couldn't answer the first two, and I wouldn't answer the last.

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I was wrong. I couldn't face this. I wasn’t strong enough.

My limbs felt like jelly, even frozen, while I watched the scene before me play out. It felt like a nightmare I couldn't stop—like, even if I threw myself kicking and screaming against every guard in the room, they'd easily pin me down and cart me out. And I'd fail...again.

Fuck this. I couldn't watch her die!—I thought, blinking through tears that made the blue carpet under my feet blurry.

But it looked like I was going to have to.

Joy knelt three feet away—three fucking feet away and I couldn't help her. Her hands and feet were bound, and her eyes leered up under layers of parted, pink hair as she waited for her sentence. The enormous blade of the guard's sword bobbed just over her head—ready, in his outstretched fist. The girl's eyes kept darting to it. I wished I didn't notice, but I did.

"Elder Bradshaw, how do you vote, fail or pass?" roared the guard at the front.

I watched the weedy man with the long beard sway on his feet. Please have let that Influence Influx thing last. His gaze darted to the carpet before he addressed the room. "Pass," he whispered.

His words sent a whisper of relief flooding through me, but he was the guaranteed one; the bearded man had promised me that he'd vote in Joy's favor. It was the other two that had my heart pounding in my chest—

"1 pass, 2 undetermined," drawled the guard, pulling his dark hood further over his face, "Elder Nafta, how do you vote, pass or fail?"

He’d asked the woman first, luckily. She was the most likely to side with me. I watched the brown orbs of her eyes fly over the room to connect with mine, but her lips tightened—

No—

"Fail," she declared.

Fail...

Death for Joy, no—

I tried to swallow, but there was literally no liquid left in my throat. I sent a pleading gaze at Joy, but her eyes were already steel like she'd accepted her fate. Her face was granite-hard and her jaw, tensed. No. This was my fault—it was my fault she was there—

"1 pass, 1 fail, 1 undetermined. Elder Jacob, your vote?"

I was vaguely aware of the guard's last question. His voice sounded faded and far away. I gasped for air, my vision locking on the last elder's face.

"Fail," the man stated.

"NO!" The scream wrenched out of my lips as I hurled myself forward.

At Joy.

Past the barriers.

Past the guards' grabbing hands.

Fingers locked down on me like iron clamps. One of them grabbed my hair, yanking backwards. I howled out in pain and desperation.

No! No—Joy—

But the pink-haired girl just lowered her head. I was close enough to hear her whisper, "For The Game." As her hair slipped over her face.

"No! No! No!" I kicked at the guards. It was no good. They slammed me up against the wall, my cheek hitting painted drywall...their hands already tying mine behind my back.

"No..." And, just like that, the anger turned to tears.

Rushing.

Swarming.

I sobbed, letting all the fight leak out of me. The waterfall down my cheeks blurred the room like it was trying to protect me from seeing what was going to happen. But I already knew, and I couldn't stamp the image of it out of my mind no matter what I did.

Grand Dragon, I sobbed, Grand Dragon, I couldn't stop it. Why couldn't I stop it? Can YOU stop it? Joy shouldn't have to die! She shouldn't have to—

[Draconic Telepathy Used… +1 XP, 1196/1200]

But, even through my tears, I saw the blade coming up over her thin neck.

Her thin, white neck.

Grand dragon, do something! Do anything! Please! I screamed in my head.

I watched Joy close her eyes.

I took in a shaking breath as the guard's gloved hands tightened on the handle and the blade elevated for the swing—

"Wait!"

A man's cry.

Every eye in the room whipped around, towards the doorway, to see a figure standing there—a scrappy boy around my age in a guard's uniform who was nearly breathless. "It's fixed! The Game Code is fixed!" His freckled face was red from exertion like he'd run here.

A murmur raced through the room.

And all stares landed on the guard with the sword again. With a swish, he sheathed it at his leather belt, "Thank you, Marvious." He turned towards the group, "We will let The Game determine this girl's fate! We cut out the darkness!"

"We cut out the darkness!" the room echoed.

The guard brought his hands up to punch numbers into the air when the boy at the door spoke again, "Err, sir, the people would like the Level 14 Coder to conduct The Questioning. They'd like to bestow the honor in thanksgiving for him fixing it." He bowed low.

And my insides churned—another curve ball? I was breathless.

"Of course," the guard said, returning the bow, "Please bring in the Coder 14."

And a thin figure in an engulfing, green robe stepped staunchly through the doorway. Two white, bony hands threw back the hood. And my jaw dropped. It was—

Dormouse grinned back at me.