Gasp!
Kael awoke to the biting cold of the underground prison, his breath visible in the dim, frost-covered air. The stone walls around him were slick with moisture, and the faint sound of dripping water echoed in the silence.
His body ached, the iron collar around his neck heavy and unyielding. The Engine's light on his arm flickered faintly, its glow muted by the collar's suppression.
He turned his head, his vision adjusting to the dim light, and saw Lira standing by the iron barred door.
Her tattered dress hung loosely on her thin frame, the fabric faded and frayed at the edges. Her hair, a striking mix of black and white, fell in messy waves over her shoulders, and her hollow brown eyes met his with a mixture of pity and resolve.
"You're awake," she said softly, her voice barely above a whisper. "The guards will be here soon. They'll take you and the other men to work at the docks, so stand up immediately."
Kael pushed himself up, his muscles protesting with every movement. "What about you?"
Lira glanced toward the corridor, her expression tense. "The women? We just have different tasks."
Before Kael could respond, the sound of heavy boots echoed down the stone hallway. The door creaked open, and two guards stepped inside, their faces obscured by thick fur hoods. One of them carried a lantern, its flickering light casting long shadows on the walls.
"Up, all of you!" the guard barked, his voice harsh and commanding.
The other prisoners stirred, their movements slow and reluctant. Kael stood, his eyes never leaving the guards.
They began separating the group, shoving the men toward one side of the cell and the women toward the other.
Lira cast one last glance at Kael before she was herded away, her figure disappearing into the dimly lit corridor.
Kael and the other men were marched down a narrow passageway, the air growing colder with every step.
They arrived at a small room filled with wooden crates and piles of ragged clothing.
The guards stopped and turned to the prisoners, their eyes narrowing.
"Strip," one of the guards ordered, his tone leaving no room for argument.
Kael hesitated, his jaw tightening. The guard stepped closer, his hand resting on the hilt of a dagger at his belt. "I said strip. Now."
Reluctantly, Kael removed his tattered shirt, the cold air biting at his skin. The guards' eyes widened as they took in the sight of his back- a patchwork of scars, some old and faded. Near his shoulder was a strange tattoo, a symbol resembling a triangle with a line in the center ⍫.
One of the guards pointed at the Engine glove on Kael's right hand. "Why haven't you taken that off?"
"I can't," Kael replied, his voice steady despite the tension in the air.
The guard sneered. "We'll see about that."
He grabbed Kael's arm, yanking it forward as he tried to pull the glove off.
When it didn't budge, the guard's expression turned to frustration. "What the hell? Why won't it come off?"
The other guard stepped closer, squinting at the glove. "Maybe it's stuck. Here, let me try."
The two guards took turns pulling at the glove, their faces red with effort.
Kael winced as they tugged harder, his arm feeling like it might be ripped from its socket.
"Are you guys serious?" Kael said, his voice dripping with sarcasm. "You're really going to dislocate my shoulder over a glove?"
The first guard glared at him. "Shut up, slave. This thing's coming off one way or another."
The second guard scratched his head, looking genuinely puzzled. "Maybe it's… glued on or something?"
"Glued?!" Kael exclaimed, his voice rising in disbelief. "You think someone glued a high tech, glowing mechanical glove to my hand? Are you hearing yourselves right now?"
The guards exchanged a look, clearly unsure how to respond. The first guard crossed his arms, his tone defensive. "Well, it's not coming off, so what do you suggest?"
The second guard's eyes lit up. "What if we… cut it off?"
Kael's eyes widened. "Wait, what? Cut it off? Are you out of your minds?!"
The first guard nodded, seemingly warming to the idea. "Yeah, we've got a saw in the storage room. Let's get it."
Kael's heart raced as the second guard hurried out of the room, returning moments later with a mechanical saw.
The sound of the saw whirring to life filled the room, and Kael's breath hitched. He struggled against the guards' grip, but they held him firmly, their hands like iron.
KRANK! BRRRRRNNG! VVRRRRRRRRRRMMMM!
"Hold still," the first guard said, positioning the saw near Kael's wrist.
"Hold still?!" Kael shouted, his voice cracking. "You're about to cut off my hand, and you want me to hold still? Are you insane?!"
The second guard shrugged. "It's just a hand. You've got another one."
"Just a hand?!" Kael repeated, his voice rising to a near scream. "Do you hear yourself?! That's my hand! My only right hand! What am I supposed to do with one hand? Clap sarcastically at your stupidity?!"
The guards paused, looking genuinely confused.
The first guard scratched his head. "He's got a point. What if the boss gets mad?"
Before they could continue their debate, a new voice cut through the chaos. "What's going on here?"
A tall figure stepped into the room, his fur lined cloak marking him as someone of higher authority.
His face was stern, his eyes cold and calculating as they settled on Kael.
The first guard straightened up, looking nervous. "We were just trying to remove this glove, sir. But it won't come off, so we thought-"
"You thought you'd cut off his hand?" the man interrupted, his voice sharp.
The guards exchanged a guilty look. "Well… yeah."
The man sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose. "You idiots. This one's valuable. The boss said no damage. Leave him be."
The guards hesitated, then reluctantly released Kael. The man in the cloak stepped closer, his gaze lingering on the Engine glove. "Keep it on," he said. "But don't think about using it. That collar will make sure of that."
Kael's hands trembled as he pulled on the ragged slave uniform they handed him a faded greenish-brown tunic and pants that reeked of mildew and sweat.
The fabric was coarse against his skin, a constant reminder of his new reality.
The guards herded the men out of the room and up a narrow staircase. Kael's heart pounded as they ascended, the air growing slightly warmer with each step.
At the top, they pushed open a heavy wooden door, and Kael was momentarily blinded by the sudden brightness.
He stepped outside, the cold night air hitting him like a wall. Above, the sky was a vast expanse of stars, their light reflecting off the frozen lake in the distance.
The village was quiet, the only sounds the crunch of snow beneath their boots and the distant creak of wooden boats at the docks.
Kael's breath caught as he took in the scene. The other slaves shuffled forward, their heads bowed, but Kael's eyes were drawn to the horizon.
The frozen lake stretched endlessly, its surface glistening under the moonlight. For a moment, he forgot the pain, the fear, the weight of the collar around his neck.
But the moment was fleeting. A guard shoved him forward, snapping him back to reality. "Move it, slave. You've got work to do."
Kael clenched his fists, the Engine's light flickering faintly. He glanced back at the basement door, his mind racing. He didn't know how, but he would find a way to escape this place.
Thisnightisreallybeautiful, Kael thought, his chest tightening as he gazed at the stars. Butnotwithmycurrentcondition.