She's laughing again.
Louder.
Louder.
Her voice cracks the air inside the cell, bouncing off stone, stabbing through my ears like the sound itself wants to hurt me.
The other elves—
I see them in the corners of my eyes.
Tucked into shadows.
Curled up, trying to disappear, hiding from the little light that leaks through cracks above us.
Some of them cling to each other.
Holding on like that can stop this.
Like it can stop her.
But I'm here.
With her.
And she's not stopping.
I fall back against the stone wall.
The pain in my arm— it's crawling, chewing, biting.
It hurts.
I can't—
I can't take it. It feels like fire sinking under my skin.
Her hand rises again.
Slow.
Too slow.
Like she enjoys watching me wait for the hurt.
My hands lift on their own.
Trembling.
Begging without sound.
I don't even know what I'm begging for.
To stop.
To end.
To just… not be here.
SNAP
My left eye—
I can't—
I can't see.
A sound tears up my throat before I understand I'm screaming.
Hot burns slide down my face—
tears, except… not clear.
Red.
Thick.
Blood.
It drips off my chin, splashes on my legs, leaves dark marks on the floor.
It hurts. It hurts so much.
Aveline… why?
Why is she hurting me?
Is it because I'm an elf?
Because I look like this?
Her whip swings lazily from her hand.
She's smiling.
No— laughing.
Laughing like this is funny to her.
Like my pain fills her lungs better than air.
She steps closer.
Each step slow.
Measured.
She wants me to see her coming.
"So… elf trash," she says.
Her voice hiccups a laugh, sharp and cracked.
Her eyes narrow, mouth stretched too wide.
Wrong.
Everything about her face feels wrong now.
"Did you really think…"
Her breath hits my skin— cold, empty—
"…that I was being nice to you?"
I try to speak.
Anything.
A word.
A sound.
But my throat closes.
My mouth moves— just shapes, empty shapes.
Air.
Nothing but air.
Why can't I talk?
Why can't sound come out?
Fear.
Cold.
Shaking everywhere.
Like my bones are shivering inside me.
She turns.
Metal clanks.
Steps fade.
The gate shuts.
I stare at the floor, lips moving without sound.
Trying to make letters, words—
nothing.
Only breath.
Pain fades.
Or my body stops feeling it.
I don't know which is worse.
Something drags across stone.
Soft.
Then a tiny thud.
A voice breaks the silence.
"Hey… are… you okay?"
I turn slowly.
Neck heavy.
Head swimming.
Moonlight spills through cracks above,
thin beams spreading just enough to show—
A girl.
Her eyes shine like water in the dark.
Her ears—a shape like mine.
Her hair should be golden, but dirt turns it darker, patches matted against her skin.
Bruises bloom along her cheeks—deep violet, red, blue.
Her clothes are torn, brown like mud, with holes near the sleeves.
Her feet scrape against the floor, bare and scarred with the same dark swollen marks I saw on her face.
She smiles.
Why is she smiling?
Will she hurt me too?
Is she hiding teeth behind that smile like Aveline?
"It's okay," she whispers.
Soft.
Warm.
Too soft for this place.
"I'm Elisa… from the Cyrra tribe."
Cyrra… tribe?
A weight presses into her eyebrows, but the smile stays.
It looks heavy.
Like she holds it there so she doesn't break.
"What tribe are you from?" she asks.
My mouth opens.
I try to answer.
But only silence leaves me.
Tribe…?
What tribe…
"I can tell from your red eyes," she whispers again, tilting her head slightly.
"You're from the mountains."
My good eye widens.
My heart jumps.
Mountains…
Mountains?
I don't—
I don't remember but…
I drag myself to the bars.
Fingers shake as they wrap around cold metal.
"M…mo…"
I try again.
Nothing.
Shaking.
Cold.
My voice is broken.
Or stolen.
She smiles wider like she doesn't see the bruises anymore, like they don't matter to her at all.
"My father was going to take me there one day…" her words fall soft, almost like the memory hurts to touch.
"Before…"
She doesn't finish.
"So… what's your name?" she asks.
Name.
My name.
Right.
"W…w… w—"
Nothing.
I slam my fist against the stone floor.
Hate this.
Hate being silent.
Hate being small.
Hate being—Me?
"It's okay," she whispers again.
"I understand."
I look up.
She's still smiling.
And suddenly my chest feels warm and tight at the same time.
My stomach growls— loud.
Her eyebrows lift.
A tiny laugh escapes her.
"You're hungry?"
I nod.
She crawls to a bucket in her cell, torn clothes dragging, feet scraping stone.
She pulls out a small piece of bread and brings it back, arm trembling like it hurts to lift anything.
She hands it through the bars.
I grab it.
Tear into it.
It's rough.
Bitter.
Scratches my mouth.
Tastes like dirt and metal.
But it fills something empty.
"Thank… you," I whisper.
The words barely sound like mine.
She nods, gentle.
THUD.
Steps.
Hard.
Heavy.
Not hers.
Not soft.
Not safe.
Metal clanks.
Voices.
Shadows moving.
We both crawl back into darkness.
Close.
Silent.
My heart pounds so loud it feels like the whole prison can hear it.
Cold breath shakes out of me.