The Price of Freedom

Her lips curling in disgust, Cassandra retrieved her blade from the man’s abdomen and turned around. Instead of stopping to catch her breath though, she was forced to immediately jump back after catching the glint of the sword racing towards her neck.

In her haste, she tripped over the now dead body of her previous opponent and fell heavily to the ground. The world around her spun as her head bounced from the impact it made with the floor and she distantly heard the metal clang of her blade as it slipped from her grip.

Her face scrunched up in pain, she tried to get up as fast as possible, although the thick blood slicking the polished marble below was turning this into no easy feat.

The crowd gathered in the seats above the arena were now losing their minds, cheering loudly in their stomach-churning bloodlust, egging on her next opponent.

“Get a grip! You’re too close to die now!” Her inner voice shouted frantically at her while she rolled further away from her new attacker. Scrambling to get up, she mentally cursed herself for dropping her weapon during the fall.

Not paying any attention to the blinding pain screaming at her from every imaginable part of her body, she jumped sideways the second she found her footing, barely avoiding the next brute attack aimed at her head.

While she kept her eyes on the terrifying wall of a man who was hell-bent on dismembering her, Cassandra tried to scan her immediate surroundings for anything which could give her some semblance of a fighting chance.

His sword readily lifted, the burly male growled as he charged for her once more, making her heart skip a beat at the bestial sound. With eyes as big as dinner plates, she ducked and then ran around him, hoping to buy herself some time.

That’s when the metal glint of something nearby caught her attention. It wasn’t her sword of course, she had lost that one merely two days after the contest had begun, but this one would more than do. It had to.

With renewed powers and a sliver of hope, she pushed herself to reach the blade before her attacker could get to her.

Bending down as she ran, Cassandra grabbed the handle and ripped the broadsword out of the still warm chest it had been lodged into, trying not to think about the sickening sound that created. She could hear too clearly the man’s heavy steps thundering behind her, getting closer and closer with every passing second.

Now though, when she was once again armed, she quickly spun around and lifted her sword, parrying the blow which had been aimed at her back. It would have been undoubtedly fatal had she been even a second slower.

Gritting her teeth, she poured all the strength she could muster into pushing the man away, making him step back. Not stopping to take even a single breath, she lifted her weapon and charged towards him with a shout, effectively catching him off guard, while simultaneously making the spectators go wild.

She both loved and hated how most of her opponents always seemed surprised when she went on the offensive. One would think that when she was one of the last, now only four, standing contestants, they wouldn’t underestimate her based solely on the fact that she had boobs. But anyway, annoyed or not, she had learned to use that to her advantage.

After the initial shock had left his system, Cassandra saw the man lift his sword to parry hers. If she were using her own blade, she would have been able to change the trajectory of her blow before it made contact. But as it was, the one in her hand was significantly heavier, which made even trying such a thing too much of a risk. With gritted teeth she realized her only advantage now was that the man had been a little slower than he should be, leaving a small opening in his defense for her to try and exploit.

Not willing to risk him overpowering her in a parry, she stepped to the right in the last possible moment and swung her weapon towards his left side. Cassandra had seen the way his jaw had gone slack from the unexpected move. He had tried to move away but she knew he wouldn’t be fast enough. His heavy build was a curse in such fights, especially when faced with an opponent as swift and nimble as herself.

She almost smirked in triumph when she felt her blade sink deep into his flesh, grazing one of his ribs on the way. Warm blood splattered all over her face as she ripped her weapon free of him. She heard his scream of agony as she put a healthy distance between them. It wasn't necessarily a fatal blow, but she knew it had hurt enough to throw him off his game.

She used her opponent’s current inability to fight to check on the other two contestants. Scanning the arena, her green eyes immediately landed on the far side of it. There she saw Samuel, probably her only semblance of a friendly face through all this, lifting his own sword to lodge it in-between the other fighter’s ribs. The man had already been lying on the bloody floor at that time, but the rules had been clear. There was no room for mercy.

Cassandra was just as happy about seeing Samuel win, as she was utterly terrified. But despite the way her heart clenched at the thought of what was to come, she didn’t have time to dwell on that fateful turn of events any longer. She had other battles to fight right now.

That said, her whole attention was once again focused solely on her opponent.

Before all this, she might have felt pity looking at him, maybe even a little sorry for what she had done. But not anymore. Now, while she approached him, she could only watch in cool detachment how his face kept twisting and distorting in an ugly, painful grimace.

Her steps slow and calculated, Cassandra finally stopped when she was standing right in front of him, close enough to smell the sheen of pain and exhaustion coating his skin.

At first, when he had charged for her while she was defenseless, her heart had been galloping in equal parts fear and adrenaline. But as she observed him now, breathing heavily, one knee on the ground while he trembled in pain, her heart thumped in her ears only from the prospect of what was to come next.

Finally noticing her again, probably out of sheer panic, the man suddenly lifted himself with a grunt, swinging his sword at her in the process. In Cassandra’s eyes, that was the last attempt of a cornered prey to escape its predator. And a futile one at that.

She parried immediately, gritting her teeth with the effort to withhold under his strength.

Lifting her eyes to lock gazes with him, she saw the pure stubbornness behind his heavy blow, born only from the most primal of instincts. The will to survive. The slivers of fear dancing in his eyes were making her blood run cold, but even so, she couldn’t allow herself to let up.

She had that very same will herself and, despite how she might be feeling, she only smiled at him arrogantly as she jumped back. Her smirk broadened as she watched him stumble forward and she used that time to quickly circle him, lifting her sword in the process. Once she was behind him, she didn’t waste any time planting her blade deep into the man’s back.

By the sounds of it, Cassandra was sure she had punctured a lung and she grimaced momentarily before schooling her features again. It would be cruel of her to leave him to such a slow demise. So, with that thought, she lifted her sword again, this time burrowing it deep inside the back of the man’s meaty neck, efficiently ending his mortal struggles.

Breathing heavily, she listened with detest to the booming excitement pouring from the audience. If only she could, she would have already made her way up there to silence them for good.

As it was though, all the exits of the arena were currently sealed and would be opened once there was only one contestant left standing. And their prize? Complete, unquestionable freedom.

These barbaric contests were held once every ten years, allowing each prison to select two death row convicts who would fight with the others for the chance to be let free. After the contest, all the charges against the winner were dropped and their dossier was sealed away.

It was held in the span of two weeks and all the rounds were utterly grueling and exhausting. Beginning with the death run through the Forest of the Forsaken, very few lived long enough to participate in the Final Matches held in the end.

Although Final Matches was a rather deceiving name. There were no matches really, just a melee between all those who had managed to survive. It was held solely for the cruel satisfaction of the bloodthirsty people gathered to watch. And God only knew, there were hundreds of thousands of them.

Swallowing thickly, Cassandra slowly turned towards Samuel who was now already halfway across the battlefield. She saw his set jaw and the frown etched deep into his features, perfectly mirroring her own.

A whirlpool of mixed emotions swirled in her chest at the sight of him. Sam’s tanned skin shone under the high sun, his sandy hair matted with blood. With his sword dragging behind him like a loyal hound, he exuded menace from every pore of his body.

To anyone else, he probably looked every bit like an unforgiving angel of Death.

And yet, despite all that, his eyes looked kind to Cassandra, as if he too was unsure of what to do once he reached her.

Throughout the melee, no matter how much she had hated herself for it, Cassandra had almost hoped that Samuel would die at the hands of one of the others. At least then she could have avenged his death by killing said contestant and going to live her freedom for the both of them.

But now, if she was to win, Cassandra would have no way of washing his blood off of her hands. She briefly wondered if it would be even worth it.

That decision was made too quickly though, when he suddenly seemed to charge at her with everything left inside him, making it apparent that she had been the only one to have second thoughts. And that hurt. But more than that, it made pure, undiluted fury spread throughout her veins, boosting her strength as she swung her sword in answer.

Throughout the whole contest they had known that it was very much impossible for them to make it out together, and still they had helped each other survive. Although, if he was so quick to compromise her, even after everything they went through, then she wasn’t going to let him walk out of this. He simply didn’t deserve to.

With a loud cry, she swung her sword towards him and he easily parried, pushing her away before aiming his weapon at her head. She jumped away on trembling feet and whirled to face him, noticing that he was once again calmly walking towards her.

“Scared of hurting me?” He asked her slowly, the corner of his lips quirking up into a cruel half smile as he lifted his sword again. This time, instead of dodging, she parried with a low grunt.

“I just really hoped it wouldn’t come to this.” Cassandra gritted out. Unwanted tears of frustration pooled into her eyes as she breathed heavily. Both their gazes and their swords were locked for a loaded second before Samuel pushed her away again with a scoff of mock amusement.

“Tell me, why do you think I helped you out in the first place?” He asked, lifting a brow up before gritting his teeth and swinging his sword towards her head again. She ducked, a small frown of confusion appearing between her brows.

“What?” She asked, and that short second in which she accidentally let her guard down, was all Samuel had been aiming for.

He kicked her legs out from underneath her, bringing her to the ground, and then quickly straddled her. Keeping her firmly pressed to the floor, he pushed his weapon into her throat. When she swallowed, the edge sank deeper into her skin and she felt a small drop of blood slide down her neck.

He smirked as he leaned down closer to her.

“You are ruthless on a good day, babe, but never when it comes to those you care about. And I needed you to be all soft and emotional for this final round.” He said sweetly, an easy smile on his lips as he held her gaze for a second.

And a second was all she needed.

If she had still had any doubts before, they were all completely erased now. Her chest heaving and her eyes full of unshed tears, she buried her blade deep in Samuel’s side, stopping only when it protruded from the other. Cassandra then closed her eyes, her face scrunched up in disgust when blood began to trickle from his mouth. That, and despite everything, it still hurt seeing him die. Even after he had toyed with her in such a way.

She kicked him away from her, watching as he fell on his back with her sword still lodged deep inside of him. She then quickly got to her hands and knees, breathing heavily as she lifted a hand to her wounded throat.

“Screw you, Sammy!” Cassandra spat his name like it was poison on her tongue, before shakily getting up, noticing his gaze was now following her every movement.

She watched with a frown as the life slowly seeped out of his golden eyes. Eyes which, despite everything, were now suddenly looking at her with unmatched warmth, too much like the one she had gotten so used to. She then saw the small, serene smile appear on his lips, one which was nothing like the cruelty he had been showing her up until now.

“You’re welcome.” He then whispered quietly with a wink.

At those words, a bucket of ice suddenly spilled throughout Cassandra’s veins, freezing her in her spot.

“And don’t forget …” He continued slowly, still smiling, as if completely unaware of the horror in her eyes. “...To keep your promise.” He finished simply.

Beginning to choke, he coughed up more blood before taking another painful breath.

“Go live, Cassy…” Sam then rasped weakly at the end, as if giving her his blessing, before he turned his serene smile to the sky, eyes now completely glazed over.

Shocked to the very core, Cassandra could only stand and watch helplessly as his chest barely rose, and then fell for the very last time.

For an endless moment, a deafening silence seemed to stretch over the arena, bouncing off the walls and ringing loudly in Cassandra’s ears as realization finally dawned on her.

She had won.

She had won at the most expensive of prices she could have ever imagined, and it hadn’t even been her choice entirely.

Feeling as if she was underwater, Cassandra very distantly heard the exalted screams of the people in the crowd, as she watched the metal gates of the exit start to open.

Her vision now beyond blurry, she looked down at Samuel, fully aware she was doing so for the very last time.

“I will.” She mouthed slowly before swallowing thickly and lifting her head.

Taking a shaky breath, she started walking towards the dark tunnel beyond the gates, her heavy boots splashing in the puddles of blood as she sidestepped all the bodies littering the floor.

Ever since she had been imprisoned, Cassandra had thought that freedom would have felt like she was suddenly all light as a feather. Never had she imagined the bone-crushing weight of the guilt which had just settled on her shoulders, neither the unimaginable pain, both of which were now threatening to raze her to the ground.

Because Sam had lied to her in the most cruel of ways. He had tricked her into allowing her emotions to take the reign, and now she would forever owe him her freedom.

Barely keeping herself together, she managed to reach the comforting darkness of the tunnel, finally away from the glaring sun and the metallic scent of blood. Away from the cheering crowds and the accusing eyes of the dead.

Only then did Cassandra allow herself to stop and wipe away her tears.

With every breath she took, she felt her ribcage on the verge of exploding, yet she knew that she was only feeling half of it right now. The real nightmare would begin once she was away from there, with no one to keep her company except for her own ravaging thoughts.

For now though, she closed her hand into a tight fist and slowly brought it to her lips. Mindless of all the blood and grime, she placed a soft kiss there before lowering it to her heart.

She might have been afraid of not having a purpose if she ever got free, but that was no longer a concern of hers. Now she had a promise to keep, despite being the one to take away Samuel’s life.

No, it was exactly because she had been the one to take away his life, even if he should have been the one to make it out.

Now she had to go and live for the both of them. A measly promise really, in exchange for such an unmerited sacrifice.

But it was a promise nonetheless.