SAVE POINT 82

Loading 2 Girls...1 Mission...100%

[https://cdn.discordapp.com/attachments/1102021402707628096/1128149759048294400/208b02a4-f171-4696-af8b-f530e117e44b.png][https://cdn.discordapp.com/attachments/1102021402707628096/1128149759383830650/db8b5b7b-2511-44f6-a8aa-a34fc4e6b91b.png]

Rosabella

"Joy, you do not have to volunteer to die for me." The words rush over my tongue. There. That's it. That's what I've been wanting to say—maybe even waiting to say in the silence that has hushed the dungeon while we're held in suspension here, each breath a reminder of the time we might not have left after that door opens, scraping on the cobblestone floor. I realize I've been waiting to hear that noise—tensing and straining in the silence in case I miss it...the shuffle of the door opening or boots on the other side. The air, here, is damp and heavy, like the weight on my heart and shoulders. I trail a finger along the outlines of the wet stones in the floor, tracing patterns I can't seem to untangle in my head.

I watch the pink-haired warrior turn towards me; her lips press together, annoyed. "Wow, way to make the situation sound, somehow, grimmer," she gripes. The girl throws a handful of hair over her shoulder. I'm not sure if it's because it's so sticky in here or if she's looking for an excuse to hide her facial expression. "Plus," she continues, "I'm pretty sure, given the choice, half the world would vote for my death, especially over yours. You saw the nerds' t-shirts—"

"They were a joke," I tell her, something inside me hurting at the thought that the tough-as-iron girl would be wounded by something as trivial as a bunch of shirts with her face x'ed out on them. "They thought this was just a book—"

"I thought you were going to say they thought I was a joke," Joy lets out a sour chuckle, pinching a piece of straw she found on the ground between her fingertips as she shifts into a cross-legged position on the stone floor.

My eyes dart to meet hers. My voice is hushed, "I'd never say that."

She looks away again, raising an unsure eyebrow and avoiding eye contact again. The little piece of straw in her hand twirls like a weathervane as the winds change directions, "So, we're friends now?" The last two words are a breathy bark. I can't help but notice the skepticism in her tone—like it's painted there with a wide paintbrush.

It makes me smile a little as I shift painfully on the stone under my butt. "We were never enemies," I offer.

She rolls her eyes, "Touche." She pauses, spinning the straw again, "I'll be real with you. You're the Game Maker, the only one who can save this Game from the darkness. It doesn't matter if the darkness in you, you're crazy, sometimes stupid and rash, but—"

There's a 'but' in this speech? ...Well, this might be the strangest peptalk ever, coming from the most unlikely person—

"But you'll figure it out," Joy snaps, her eyes suddenly brimming fire, "I know it. You'll save our world here—you've already saved part of it. This world needs you. I'm just..." She shakes her head.

"Don't say it," I warn. I don't want to hear the pink-haired girl demean herself, not after I know what she's capable of. She's strong. She can fight five people off at one time. She's sarcastic and spunky—spit-fire—if I'm being honest. And she has emotions too. She might not show it. She might shove them down, but she's just as human as the rest of us.

Tears burn in my throat at the thought that...that I might have to lose her. ...All because of this backwards Town's dynamics?

Joy? I'm seriously crying over Joy? She used to annoy me so much. What has changed? When she's gone, what will it feel like...? Our group...without her?

No, I remind myself. I won't lose her. I'll figure out a way. ...But even in my head, it's feeling hopeless. As I look around this place...at the chains...and the solid walls...and remember the flashing sword and the copper smell of blood as the prisoner was hacked into slices. Will I be able to stand seeing the same done to Joy? I bite down on my cheek at the thought. But not even the pain can numb me...

"I'll die the death of a warrior fighting to save The Game if it requires it," Joy insists, "Saving you is saving The Game. That's probably the biggest honor a Game Warden can have—"

"No," I whisper hoarsely, looking around and locking eyes with, first, the little girl in her mother's arms and, then, the yellow dragon watching me—do any of them believe me? That I will free them? "No, I can't let you die. First Callen, then Rainer? I can't let anyone else die—" My voice cracks.

The dungeon door is thrown open.

That sound I've been waiting for. I'd missed it. I'd been drowned, instead, in the surging sound of keeping all these tears inside.

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A flock of guards charge into the stone room, keeping formation.

"It has been decided," the first guard announces loudly, as the group churns to a halt, "The code is temporary out-of-order. Therefore, we will resort to honoring the old ways. Of late, we were a people of negotiations. Pink-haired prisoner, your trade will be honored. You are, hereby, sentenced to trial by the three elders. The girl riddled with darkness will have one day to convince the elders of your merits before their vote of 'pass' or 'fail' before being cast out. 'Fail' means death. 'Pass' means banishment." He raises his fist with a chant, "We cut out the darkness!"

"We cut out the darkness!" roar the guards behind him.

And a guard rushes forward, prying me up from the ground and to my feet—towards the door.

Free?

I'm—?

But Joy is—

I whip around to look for her, catching the girl's gaze—

"Fucking go!" she growls, appearing impatient.

But I cast a struggling glance at her. I fight, just for a minute, against the guard's insistent grasp as they wrench me towards the open door.

Because their hands feel like waves, crashing over and over my head.

And I'm drowning.

Tumbling.

Under the booming surf.

Helpless.

Underwater.

Like there's no way to come up for air.

Loading Two Hours Later...

It's just bizarre—the change of scenery in the couple hours. I've gone from literally sitting on the floor to—

"Can I interest you in more sparkling water?"

I nearly spit out the drink already in my mouth as the elder bends low, offering me more out of a red urn. I shake my head, trying to hide the spasming cough that wants to bubble up, "I'm fine thanks." I press my arms firmly against the whicker armrests of the chair I'm seated in, hoping that the robed man doesn't notice the jar I have unscrewed in both hands in my lap under the table.

They'd given me back my things, including the root powder. And I need another dose now. If only I can sneak it in while the man's back is turned—

There.

I rush a pinch of it to my mouth as the elder ducks through a doorway; it tastes chalky but sticks to my tongue as I hurry to swallow—

"Like I said," the man drawls, returning to the room and running a hand through his long beard stretching over a wrinkled and morose face, "I'd be inclined to vote with you. Your friend sounds like a valiant lady. However, the other two elders have a nearly inseparable vote. Be wary. Choose your words with them wisely."

'Valient lady'. —He's talking about Joy?!

I almost want to erupt in raucous laughter.

Maybe I had embellished a little too much. And, yet, I'm sitting here in this elder's hut trying to save her life—I realize with sobering reality. I chew on my tongue, trying to get a handle on the situation as the breeze from a rotating fan above ruffles my hair away from my face.

One elder down.

Two more to convince.

...Well, one out of two is pretty good so far, I figure so... So, why are my insides churning, making me feel like I want to throw up?

The root powder. I should ask about the root powder before I forget. Afterall, it's the whole reason we're here...

"Before I go," I rush, well aware that the gray-bearded man looks about done with me, "I wonder if—do you know if your town has any root powder?"

The elder squints at me, itching his nose as he thinks, "Root powder? Child, that is serious healing magic. It's very rare—"

"I know," I counter quickly, then, realize I shouldn't have. "Joy and I came looking for it. We need to heal...a very sick child."

...Not entirely a lie—he'd called me that only minutes ago. I'm hoping to get a vote of sympathy with my words...

His brow creases further, "Alas, no. Not two moons after the darkness first began, raiders ravaged our town hospital." He shakes his head, "I'm sorry, we have none of what you seek."

And my heart sinks.

My soul sinks.

We'd come halfway across the world for this?! —To find that the Dragon's Sea Town doesn't have what we're looking for? Joy might die because of this? Because of my stupid, entitled need to prove that I could do something right—lead an expedition? Be a hero?

And, now, I most certainly will die too.

Without the herb.

From the darkness.

I feel numb.

Empty.

...Scared.

Grand Dragon, help me. I'm terrified.

My face feels drained of color. "I need to go," I tell the man, slipping out of the chair and around the table, towards the hut's door, "I have to—"

One out of three.

No root powder.

I'm there again—flailing in helplessness.

I know this is more than a Game so...why does it feel like I'm constantly losing? Dying?

...When do I get to live? To thrive instead of survive?

Is that even a thing?