Elysia couldn't bring herself to close her eyes in peaceful slumber, even though she was exhausted. Screams echoed somewhere in the distance, effortlessly keeping her awake. Francesca, who lay beside her, had been staring emptily at the ceiling for God knows how long. Elysia had no idea how long they had been here. It already felt like weeks.
Finally reaching her breaking point, she stood up and banged on the iron door.
"Please, let us out!" she yelled angrily, tears filling her eyes. As though on cue, her stomach growled in hunger.
"Please stop. You'll only get yourself in trouble," Francesca pleaded.
Elysia ignored her and kept banging on the door, hoping to get a guard's attention.
Finally, a guard appeared. He didn't look very pleased. She backed away instinctively.
The guard stopped a few steps from the iron bars, his boots scraping against the damp stone floor. The candlelight flickered across his face, revealing a hard expression that looked as though kindness had long ago abandoned it.
He stared at Elysia for a moment, silent, studying her like she was some irritating noise rather than a person.
"What is all this noise?" he said coldly.
Elysia swallowed, her courage trembling but not gone.
"Please," she said, her voice shaking. "We haven't eaten. We haven't even been told why we're here. Just tell us what you want from us."
The guard let out a short, humorless laugh.
"What we want?" he repeated. "You're not in a position to ask questions."
Behind her, Francesca slowly sat up, her eyes filled with warning.
"Elysia…" she whispered, almost pleading.
But Elysia was too desperate now. Hunger and fear had burned away what little patience she had left.
"You can't keep us here like animals!" she shouted.
For a moment the corridor went silent except for the distant screams echoing from somewhere deeper within the fortress.
The guard's face darkened.
He stepped closer to the bars until his shadow swallowed Elysia.
"You want food?" he said quietly.
Elysia nodded, wiping her tears with the back of her hand.
Without another word, the guard reached to his belt and pulled out a ring of keys. The metal clinked softly as he searched through them.
Francesca's eyes widened.
"Elysia… stop…" she whispered again, panic rising in her voice.
The lock clicked.
The iron door creaked open just enough for the guard to step inside.
Elysia felt her heart slam violently against her ribs.
For a brief second she thought he might actually help them–A brief, foolish hope flared, he might actually help but the next moment, fear clawed it down again.
Instead, he grabbed her roughly by the arm and shoved her hard against the wall. The impact knocked the air out of her lungs.
"You make noise," he growled, his grip tightening painfully, "you get punished."
Francesca rushed forward instinctively.
"Please!" she cried. "She didn't mean—"
"Silence!"
His voice thundered through the small cell.
The guard threw Elysia to the floor as though she weighed nothing. She hit the cold stone, pain shooting through her shoulder. She was pretty sure she had dislocated it.
He glared down at both of them.
"Food comes when it comes. You scream again, and next time I take you somewhere those screams you hear will be yours."
The distant cries echoed again through the corridor, as if to prove his point.
For a long moment none of them moved.
Then the guard stepped back out of the cell, slammed the iron door shut, and locked it again. His footsteps faded slowly down the corridor.
Elysia lay on the ground breathing heavily.
Francesca hurried to her side and helped her sit up.
"I told you," she whispered, her voice shaking a she grabbed Elysia's arm popping her bone back in place earning a scream.
"They don't care if we live or die. This room was built to make us obedient, to drain every ounce of fight we have left in us. To teach us how slaves are meant to behave. When we finally become compliant, we'll be let out, branded… and then sold."
Elysia stared at the iron door, anger and fear twisting together inside her chest.
"That means you have a brand."
Francesca nodded, pushing the arm of her cotton dress down her shoulder. A small circular scar came into view.
The mark was dark against her skin, the flesh slightly raised and uneven, as if the fire that had made it had bitten deep before it was pulled away. The circle itself was no larger than a coin, but inside it was a symbol burned carefully into the skin. Two thin lines crossed through the center, dividing the circle like the spokes of a wheel, and at the very heart of it was a tiny mark shaped almost like a crooked star.
The edges of the brand were rough, the skin puckered and shiny—proof that it had once been a raw wound. Time had healed it, but it had not softened it. The scar sat there stubbornly, permanent and unmistakable.
Elysia leaned closer despite herself, her stomach tightening as she studied it. It didn't look like an accident or some careless burn. It was too precise… too deliberate.
Francesca quickly pulled the sleeve of her dress back up, covering the mark again as though she hated the sight of it.
"It means someone owns me," she said quietly. "And wherever I go, they will always know it."
Elysia gulped. She knew it must have been painful.
"But if they see the brand, won't they return you to your previous master?"
For the first time since they had arrived there, Elysia saw fear in Francesca's eyes.
"I know… it doesn't matter," she replied quickly, shutting her eyes in an attempt to end the conversation.
Elysia didn't push further. Instead, she closed her eyes too.
Beyond the door, the screams continued.
And this time… they sounded closer.
No one came to their cell for a while after that. The air inside had grown thick and foul, heavy with the smell of sweat and urine, but neither of them complained. At some point exhaustion had dulled even their disgust.
After what felt like forever, the heavy clang of boots echoed down the corridor. A shadow fell across the bars before a guard appeared.
"Get up, you filthy beings," he barked, scrunching his nose at the stench of the cell.
Elysia stirred first. Her limbs felt stiff, as though they had turned to stone during the long hours on the cold floor. She pushed herself up slowly, brushing strands of tangled hair from her face. Beside her, Francesca sat up as well, her movements slower, more cautious.
The guard unlocked the cell with a loud clatter. The iron door groaned open, its rusty hinges shrieking through the corridor.
"Out," he ordered, stepping back as if afraid the smell would cling to him.
Elysia hesitated for only a moment before stepping into the dim corridor. The cold stone beneath her bare feet made her shiver. Francesca followed closely behind.
The corridor looked even darker now. The candles along the wall had burned low, their wax melting down the sides like pale tears. From somewhere deeper within the fortress came distant cries—some angry, some broken, some barely human anymore.
Elysia's stomach twisted.
The guard grabbed a length of chain hanging from the wall and snapped iron cuffs around their wrists before they could react.
"Move," he said sharply, giving the chain a rough tug.
They were forced forward, stumbling slightly as he led them down the narrow passage. As they walked, Elysia glanced into the cells they passed. Some were empty. Others held figures curled into corners like abandoned dolls.
One woman lifted her head weakly as they passed, hollow eyes following them through the bars. Elysia felt she looked familiar but she couldn't stop to take a good look.
Francesca leaned closer to Elysia and whispered under her breath, her voice barely audible over the clinking of chains.
"Do not speak unless they ask you something. Don't try to fight."
Elysia swallowed.
"Where are they taking us?"
Francesca didn't answer immediately. Her gaze remained fixed ahead, her expression hard and unreadable.
Finally she murmured, "To be seen."
The words sent a chill down Elysia's spine.
What kind of horrors awaited those who were meant to be inspected?"