Page 54 of Thawed Gladiator: Victor

“What the hell was that?” Franky’s voice breaks the moment, his flashlight beam darting nervously around the tunnel. “Did you two see something? Because I sure didn’t, and I don’t like the way you both just froze up.”

I exchange a look with Damian, some understanding passing between us that needs no words. “Just checking the path ahead,” I tell my father, not ready to share this deeply personal moment with him. Some experiences aren’t meant to be explained.

Damian gives a slight nod, his expression telling me he understands completely. We’ll discuss this later, when we’re alone. For now, the feeling of divine protection wraps around us like an invisible cloak, giving us renewed courage to face what lies ahead.

“How far down?” I ask as I return to our task. My light won’t reach the bottom.

“Far enough.” He tests the ledge with one foot. “Follow exactly in my steps.”

I grip his arm and turn him to face me. His calm command to follow in his footsteps doesn’t fool me. The unspoken part of the sentence is that if someone falls into the chasm, it will be him because he’s going first. What am I supposed to do? Watch the man I love fall to his death?

The man I love? Did I just think that? If circumstances were different, I would analyze this for days or weeks. I’d assess and read up on the definition of love on Google.

But I don’t need Google. I don’t need another second of deep thought to know I love this wonderful, strong, protective man with all my heart.

“What,Fortis? Do you want to turn back? Want me to carry you? I can, if you’d like.”

His earnest offer strikes me as funny, though I don’t have a clue as to why.

“Such a sweet man, my tough gladiator. I don’t need you to carry me. I just needed to tell you something important.” My heart races as I realize what I’m about to say, but facing death has a way of clarifying one’s feelings. “I love you, Damian.”

I’m reminded of the depth of feelings we shared at the sacred pool where we communicated so deeply without words. He could declare his feelings, or ask if I’m sure, or a thousand other questions. Instead, he says nothing at all, just touches one finger over my heart, as his expression softens, telling me exactly how much he loves me, too.

“MyFortis,amica mea.” My strong one, my love, is all he says, then turns to traverse the narrow, dangerous path.

One by one, we edge across. My breath sounds too loud in my ears. A loose stone clatters into the void, the echoes of its fall continuing long after it should have stopped.

“Almost there.” But my voice lacks conviction. Down here, time loses meaning. We could have been walking for hours or days. The darkness presses closer, hungry for any mistake.

My father stumbles behind me, his curse echoing through the passages. Our lights swing wildly, creating a dizzying dance of shadows.

“Sorry, Maya.” The sincerity in his voice tells me he’s sorry for a lot more than that slight stagger.

As we continue, the cave’s weight still presses down. How many men died in these passages? How many bones lie buried in the surrounding rubble? The air grows thicker with each step, heavy with stories we’ll never know.

As the path widens, a new sound reaches us—a steady drip somewhere ahead, different from the others.

“The sound changes here,” he says, cocking his head as if listening to ancient whispers. “Something is different.”

“What’s different?” I can’t hide the panic in my voice, assuming different can only meanworse.

“More stable, perhaps.” His hand traces the wall. “The miners knew their craft. They would have followed the strongest paths.”

A faint change in the air catches my attention—subtle but distinct. The oppressive stillness gives way to the slightest movement, like a breath from far away.

“Feel that?” I ask.

Damian nods. “Air movement. Could mean—”

“A way out,” my father finishes hopefully.

We push forward, our lights catching signs of more recent mining—tool marks in the walls, the remnants of old rail tracks half-buried in the tunnel floor. The air moves more strongly now, carrying a hint of something fresher than the stale mine atmosphere.

A soft glow appears ahead—not our flashlights, but something steadier. Natural light filtering in. The passage seems to brighten slightly, though the darkness behind us feels heavier than ever.

But we’re not safe yet. The final stretch of tunnel stretches ahead into uncertainty. Each step could bring collapse, discovery, or salvation.

Damian’s hand finds mine again, warm and solid in this world of cold stone. Together, we move toward the light, leaving the watching shadows to their ancient dreams.

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