Young Writers Society

Leinad | His shop

Leinad stared at the door, key in-hand. He was shaking, Eidonias he was shaking, holding tightly to Kaya's shoulder. On the counters behind him were Lou's papers, forgotten and quite obviously very needed. And all he could do was stand here, waiting and praying that they would all come back in through those doors. 

"Eidonias..." He couldn't tell if it had been he or Kaya who had said it, but at this point it hardly mattered. They were both thinking it. 

He released his granddaughter's shoulder and took two steps towards the door before stopping. He had to make sure that they were okay... he had to get out of this bloody cage and help them. Kaya's protests were stopping him, making him think twice. He couldn't even make out the words, he just heard the desperate tone in her voice. One that was begging him to stay. 

"Go get every coin of our savings, Kaya," he ordered, relieved that he was still able to speak with authority. "Anything that can be used for a bribe... papers, jewelry, plates, anything." The feeling in the pit of his gut was telling him that they'd need it soon. Very soon.

Please, just keep them alive and unsold until I can get to them. "Go!" He shot his terrified granddaughter a desperate look, and she took off up the stairs. 

Leinad was vaguely aware of slamming drawers and thuds from upstairs as he whipped around to the counter. The one man who had real papers, and he forgot them! In that moment, all the old man could feel was anger and fear. Anger at Pash, anger at Lou for being so foolish, anger at the emperor, anger at himself for not investigating; fear that he would never see his children again. Children? It seemed a fitting word... he felt like their father now more than ever. 

Another shriek from beyond the safe confines of the shop walls brought on an urge that was almost irresistible. He had to go out there-- he had to keep them safe. Tears formed in his eyes and rolled
down his cheeks. Leinad slid to the window, peering out from behind the curtain. Not much was happening up in this side of town, and it did nothing to soothe or comfort him. He couldn't see what was happening to who, he couldn't find an opening for him to jump in. Nobody familiar was running up the road just yet. 

Well, he couldn't just stand here! Kaya would be preoccupied for a while, and Leinad's papers were stuck safely inside of his pocket... he inched towards the door, unlocking it and opening it just enough for him to squeeze out. He wiped his eyes with the heel of one hand, pushing the door closed with the other. The disgusted expression wasn't hard to conjure-- he was disgusted. Just not at what the rest of Pash thought he would be disgusted about. The fear, however, was far harder to get rid of. 

A woman came barreling around the corner, shrieking child in her arms. Had he had the chance, Leinad would have oohed the door open for her and ushered her into his shop. A guard lunged at her before he had the chance, giving the woman's hair a rough yank. It took every ounce-- every drop of self control that Leinad had not to step in or shout. Or start sobbing right there on his front step. He knew that guard-- he was one who frequented the shop. Reimor Acrestes. Just eight days ago, Leinad had been considering working with that man-- he had a genuinely soft heart under the brutish exterior. 

Reimor looked up, expression unreadable. Was he enjoying this? "Quite the victory, eh Leinad?" The laugh that came next chilled the old shopkeeper to the bone and back. The woman's sobbing as she and her child were handed to separate guards almost made him break down. 

"Quite." It was all he could manage without his voice breaking. The guard with the screaming toddler took one direction, and the guard with a flailing, pleading mother took the other. Reimor was grinning. Leinad was officially begging nobody to come around that turn just yet. 

"We have quite the catch today... think you'll get brave enough to come buy a slave or two for once?" 

Leinad's eyes narrowed at the man's taunting tone. "Watch the way you regard your elders, boy," he snapped back, anger evident. "And I don't think I have much of a choice." 

Reimor shot Leinad an approving glance and shot back down the street to re-join the fray. Leinad started praying.

Eselda | The streets of Pash 

No, no, no, no, no! I was watching the guard beat up Xanthy, and my heart felt like it was going to explode it was beating so hard. I pressed my hands over my mouth to keep myself from screaming. 

He fell, and I squeezed my eyes shut so tightly that it hurt. 

I pushed myself further into the hole, curled up as tightly as I could make myself. My hands were pressed to my ears now, because if he screamed, I didn't want to hear. Xanthus was out there getting beaten up, and all I could do was sit here and cry and shake and try my very, very hardest not to start screaming. 

I looked up, just one time, and had to bite my hand to stop myself from shrieking. They were taking him away! They were taking Xanthy away from me! I pressed my face back down into my knees, and when I looked up, they were gone. They were gone and I hadn't even tried to help! 

People were still screaming outside, but I didn't care anymore. I needed to go to the tunnels. I needed Papa Lein or Dante or Lyra or someone strong to help me save Xanthus. So I just ran, because that was the only thing I could remember hoe to do. 

The screaming was getting quieter, but it was still there, and it was scaring me. 

I smacked into something, and two big arms wrapped around me and picked me up, and it didn't matter how hard I kicked, they didn't let go. A big hand pressed itself over my mouth when I tried to scream, and then something changed. I couldn't even tell what it was until I calmed down enough to open my eyes.

This was Papa Lein's shop. Papa Lein was holding me, and I was kicking him. My legs stopped, and then I started shaking so badly that I was sure he was going to drop me. 

"Kaya!" 

I looked at the stairs, eyes wide as Kaya came down them. "Essy!" She looked relieved, and I has never wanted to hit her as much as I did right then. 

"Take her upstairs and calm her down... see if you can figure out what happened to Xanthus." 

Before I even knew what was happening, I was being carries upstairs and set down on a bed. Kaya asked me something, but I started sobbing too loudly to hear her.

Kaya Marsivus | Leinad's Shop

"Go!" Grandfather ordered. I immediately ran up the stairs an ran into evey room, searching for valuable items. I knew why grandfather needed it: to save everyone from the tunnels who was captured, like Maura, Rein, Xanthus. I gathered as much jewels and coins as I could, and piled it on a desk.

That's when I ears sobbing. Not grandfather's sobs, more like childish sobs. I stopped for a minute, taking in everything that has happened. So many people... captured on the Day of Filth. I rest my head on the desk for a minute, before hearing my name.

"Kaya!" I heard. I immediately ran down the stairs to see grandfather holding Essy. How relieved was I?!

"Essy!" I cried.

"Take her upstairs and calm her down... see if you can figure out what happened to Xanthus," grandfather instructed. I nodded and carried her upstairs, into my room. I set her on a bed.

"How did you escape?" I asked her softly, but with a surprised tone. I don't think she heard me because Essy kept sobbing. I sighed and started rubbing her back. Grandfather always did this to me when I was sad. I waited a few minutes before Essy calmed down.

"Okay Essy, how did you escape?" I asked slowly. Essy thought for a minute, while sobbing a bit.

"Xanthy... Xanthy hid... Me in a... Hole, and I ended up... Here," she said inbetween chokes. I nodded. Xanthus saved Essy, causing him to be captured. I hugged Essy, rubbing her back.

"Don't worry Essy," I said. "We'll make sure they come back, in good health".

Essy looked at me, and scrunched her nose. I bit my lip, hoping what I said would be true, because I practically made a promise.

"Even Xanthy?" she asked. I nodded.

"Everyone," I answered.

(Sorry I haven't posted! Hope this is alright!)

Louarn | Markets / Stal’Vuth Mansion - Gardens:

Gods, it was so embarrassing. Lou hated it, hated what the damned Slave Lord could do. And even worse? No one had even given him a second look. Surely there were some who knew who he was? But no. No such luck--at least, today. Of all days, it had to be a Day of Filth. How Lou hated them the most. It was humilating.

The guard hauled him into a garden at the back of a Mansion, chaining him to a couple of posts in the middle of a paved area. "I'm a Lord," Lou kept saying, over and over. "Let me go. Please, my papers are at that shop! I swear on it, I'm a lord!"

Their ignored him and finished chaining him up, snickering about the foolish peasant when they thought he wasn't listening. But he was. He was listening, and it was disgusting him. They were talking about what their 'Lord Darren' was going to do with him later...and frankly, it scared Lou. How...how could someone be that...sick?

When they were done, they forced vinegar down his throat and then some salt. They left him in the sun, laughing. Lou could hear the screamig back in the city and it saddened him. He couldn't help---because he was stuck here. Under the baking sun with nothing but salt or vinegar to eat or drink. And he had no clothes. Oh, gods. He was so embarrased.


Liora | Stal’Vuth Mansion - Darren's Room/Gardens:

Shouting and the sounds of a stuggle brought my head up. What was going on now? I sure hoped that it wasn't Darren back. Suddenly curious, I shifted to the edge of the bed and stood up, wrapping the sheets around me. I winced when the wound on my back pulled as I moved. That was going to be tender for a while.

By the time I got to the window and looked out, the shouting had died down, although there was more screaming from beyond the Mansion's gates. As I watch, a couple of guards sauntered out through the gates. Well, now. That was interesting. I couldn't help but wonder who they had brought in.

I made my way back to the bed slowly, looking for my clothes. They were around here somewhere. I knew they had to be. After a few minutes of painful searching I found them. They were a little torn and bloodied, but hey? Clothes were clothes. I was pretty sure I had another set in my rooms, though.

Finally dressed, I made my way downstairs and through the house until I reached the garden. And then I blushed, ducking my head. There was a rather nice looking man chained to a couple of poles in the middle of the paved area. And he wasn't wearing any clothes. It looked like Darren had found another new personal slave.


Louarn | Stal’Vuth Mansion - Gardens:

Lou raised his head when he heard footsteps approaching. He had been wallowing in misery for the better part of an hour now, as far as he could tell, and he really, really, needed a drink about now. Was that why the girl was here? Or has she just come to stare? He blinked and realised that the girl was blushing. Oh, by the gods. He's forgotten! The Slave Lord had had him stripped before those damned guards brought him here! Lou let his head hang. It was so awkward...

"What's your name?" Lou blinked and looked up. She had found him tied up and naked and she asks for his name? What was wrong with this girl? Lou shook his head, even though she probably wouldn't see it, and dropped his gaze. He didn't want her here; it was embarrasing. "Hey, I said what's you name!"

Lou ignored her. Maybe if he did that for long enough she'd go away? A few minutes later, the girl huffed about stubborn men and ran off, leaving Lou all alone under the scorching sun. The poor man went back to sulking. He could only hope that Leinad had found his papers and was on his way to rescue him.


Riaghán | Palace - His Room:

I groaned, rolling over. What was all the noise about? I could hear it from my rooms on the far side of the palace! A few groggy moments later, I remember what Darren had told me. He was rroudning up the trash. On a Day of Filth. Ah, yes. That would make Father happy. Or maybe not. I grimaced and sat up, swinging my legs over the side. My head was pounding. This served me right for drinkng way too much again.

Shaking my head, I got up and stumbled over to the bowl of water, splashing some on my face. It woke me up, but did nothing for my pounding head. Wonderful. Note to self; never, ever drink too much again. I looked around the room and frowned, suddenly noticing something. My slave-girl wasn't here. Now, where could she be?

"Riaghán!" I grimaced. That would be my Father, wouldn't it? And right on time--as usual. I sighed and finished washing up before moving around the room to find something clean to change into. A few moments later, Father appeared in the doorway. I tried to ignore him as I changed shirts, but his presence was persistant.

I turned, disgruntled. "Yes, Father?"

Oh gosh, sorry for taking ages to post. >.< I've been busy and this storybook apparently hasn't been showing up in my notifications.

Maura - Market

Everyone was gone.

Maura ran back through the streets, searching for Rein. She tried to remember what color shirt he'd been wearing, as if that would make him appear out of the slowly dimming light of the city. The day was nearing evening, and she knew that no matter what she had to be out of the streets by nightfall. Anyone out after nightfall on a Day of Filth was as good as dead.

"Rein!" she called as she ran, hoping maybe he had gotten himself lost. But she knew he wasn't lost. She had let him out of her sight for too long. She should have taken his hand like she took Kestral's. She should have been able to find their papers when the guard had Kestral, she shouldn't have lost them, if she had kept hold of them she would have walked away with Rein and Kestral and she wouldn't have lost him.

And I've lost Kestral too. She stopped and turned back, the shirts of her dress waving around her legs as a gust of wind blew through the street. She'd left Kestral, a child alone on the Day of Filth. A child she had been given explicit instructions to look out after.

Maura screamed. She turned and threw her fists against an abandoned market stall, and she screamed. The sound exploded from her throat unlike anything she had heard herself emit before. She fell to her knees, her shoulders shaking as gasps and sobs fell from her mouth. She threw her fist out against one of the legs of the stall as she crumbled to her side on the stone road. The leg gave out, causing the stall to break and fall over her, forming a sort of tent over her body.

Rather than push herself out and return to Leinad's shop, like she knew she ought to, she stayed. She wasn't sure she could even move her body from the ground, let alone force herself back to Leinad. She couldn't return to him. Not after losing Rein, who she knew Leinad had a soft spot for. Not after disobeying his express instructions to look after Kestral, and losing her too. Even if she hadn't been captured yet, Maura had no hope of finding her before she was. A young girl like Kestral had no hope if she wandered alone on a Day of Filth.

Everyone was gone, and Maura knew she couldn't show her face in the tunnels again.

The only thing she could do now was find Rein.

Find him, or leave Pash forever.

Asha | The tunnels/'hospital room'

I took a deep breath, wrapping my robe more tightly around my shoulders as I sat down on the stool. Every inch of me was screaming to keep quiet, to run from wrath. I couldn't be beaten again-- I couldn't let a man take my child from me the way the prince had taken it. And I was terrified, absolutely terrified, that it would happen again. There was only one real flaw in my logic.

Leo was not the prince.

Leo was... Leo. A friend. Somebody who was on the same side that I was-- somebody who would help me, and the gods knew that I needed help. More than I was comfortable asking for.

"What's wrong, Asha?" he asked, almost casually. Of course, there was no mistaking the softness in his voice, and I was depending on that softness right now.

A thin layer of salt-water coated my eyes before I could stop it, and it required another slow breath to calm myself enough to speak. Easy, Asha. "You... you know my role on the surface as well as anybody down here does..." I looked up through my eyelashes to find him nodding, eyebrows slightly drawn together. "I've... run into a problem because of it, and maybe I shouldn't call it a problem at all, but I don't know what else to call it..." Deep breath. "It's the second time it's happened, and the first time... the first time it didn't... go well." A tear slipped, tickling my cheek to the extent that my face scrunched up a bit. My hands were shaking too much to wipe it away.

If Leo had said anything, I hadn't heard it. I didn't assume that he had. "I'm with child, Leo. With the next heir to the Pashan throne." I rested my forehead in one hand, letting the other light on my belly. "Papa Lein knows... just him." My gaze met Leo's again. I found myself unable to register his expression. "Please, don't say a word to anybody else. Not a single word. But with what I do... I may be in need of medical assistance." My voice was getting hoarse, and my stomach was contorting in a way that was all too familiar. 

Better in the tunnels than the surface, wasn't it? 

The surface... my heart dropped with impact that would have knocked me off of my feet had I been standing. There were people up there right now. Our people. Was it wrong to think of my child and myself before all of them? I had come down here panicked, and I suddenly felt terrible for forcing thoughts of what was going on aboveground out of my mind.

And then the guilt was gone. A mother was supposed to think about her child above all else, wasn't she? And the others would be fine... they were smart enough. And if they weren't, then I could worry about them when I had a reason to worry.

I shook my head in an attempt to clear it and met Leo's stare head-on. "I'm begging you, Leo. Swear it on your life that you won't tell a soul." Just help me keep it alive long enough to give birth to it. If he could do that. 

I prayed that he could do that. 

Leo | Infirmary

I nodded slowly, trying to keep my expression level and neutral despite the shock running through my system. The Pashan heir. One of the Resistance. There was no way this could end well. When the Prince found out... who knew what his response would be? I couldn't help but glance at Asha's stomach, already fearing what the consequences of this child could be, and whether Asha would even survive once the Prince realised. Shaking the pessimistic thoughts away, I did my best to reassure the girl as she sat opposite me, her face a mixture of determination and fear.

"You don't need to worry, Asha. What you've done... it's more than any of us have. Any time you need support, you know where to find me." I paused, then laid a hand on her shoulder consolingly. "I won't tell anyone if you don't want me to, but know that no-one here would think less of you for this. We're here for you."

She hesitated, nodding her head once in reply, then put her face in her hands again, curling into herself. "I don't care. They can't find out, okay? They can't, Leo."

I watched her for a moment as she gazed at me determinedly, expression hardening, then nodded. "I won't tell anyone. But I do want you to come and see me at least once a month to check everything is still healthy." I almost tripped over my words to avoid saying anything overly insensitive, though Asha didn't seem to notice, retreating back into her thoughts and remaining silent. I stood up, offering one small pat on the shoulder before going to the storecupboards, rifling through them for a short while, then returning with a discreet tub of pills. I held this out to Asha, who took it mutely and glanced up expectantly as if waiting for an explanation.

"These are food supplements," I explained, watching her carefully to see if she understood. "I don't know what kind of diet whilst you're... on duty, but these should ensure you get enough energy for you and for the baby." Oh no. I said it. The word I'd been trying to avoid since Asha brought up the topic. Baby. Her expression froze for an instant, and she swallowed hard before nodding tersely, a noticeable shiver running through her body.

"Thank you," Asha said abruptly, standing up faster than I would have thought possible. "I-" She hesitated, then shook her head, apparently deciding against whatever she had been going to say, then glanced back at me once last time before moving away decisively. "Goodbye."

Name: Brynnet Harlow

Age: 23

Gender: female

For/Against: For (though secretly)

Rank: Brynnet (Brynn for short) is married to a wealthy palace guard named Jonah Harlow. She has no job, being a woman, and runs her fancy household.

Appearance: Brynn is pretty, but she has an odd quality that makes people nervous. Her hair is a really pale blond, and it runs in waves about halfway down her back. Her eyes are very big and the color of maple syrup, with long, pale eyelashes. Her face is pale and ghost-like, and she often has bags under her eyes, which she tries to cover up. Brynn's stature is slim and fragile looking, very feminine. People often think of her as fragile, which she can be, but she tries her best to stay strong. She has the constant look of a scared youth, with pouty lips and a button nose, and her eyes look lost and wistful. She thinks of herself as an ice-girl because all of her features remind her of winter for some reason. She has no visible scars. They're all on the inside.

Personality: Brynn is generally quiet, though not quite shy. Her husband is so mean to her that it is almost abustoive, so she has learned to hold her tongue. She is responsible and caring, with a four-year-old daughter named Tenna and a one-year-old son named Sabriel. But she is easily overwhelmed, very neurotic, and holds grudges. Sometimes, she can be a bit moody and fractious with people, but it is because she is anxious. Brynn is skilled on the piano and believes she has passed this gift onto her daughter. She can be clever and intuitive at times, but her impulsivity gets her into trouble sometimes. She feels a hatred toward her husband, a 27-year-old handsome man who can be abusive to her and the kids and who forced her into matrimony with him. However, she can not really act on it. So she waits, secretly hoping that something will change her dreary life.

Flaws: Like I mentioned before, she can be a bit moody, neurotic, and grudging. She has basically no skill with fighting, other than basic instinct and a nimble stature. She has deep emotional strength, having to deal with the traumas of her past and the present. She is skilled with domestic affairs such as seewing and cooking, but she is bored and fidgety. Overall, Brynn is just too restless.

History:
Brynn came from a large family, with a twin sister, an older brother, and two younger sisters. But after an accident with an open flame, her twin sister went blind. Brynn's twin sister, Isabeu, died when they were 10. After that, she had nightmares. People didn't think she knew what was going on, but she did. She feared they would all end up like her dearest dead sister who she missed so much.

And then one day, about a month later, she came home from running errands to find her mother dead. Her younger sisters were at the scene of the gruesome suicide, bawling. Her brother and father were out. So she ran to the neighbors, tried to get someone to save her mother. But her mother was dead.

After that, her father and brother were distant. Her sisters acted out. She was all alone.

And then she met her husband. He listened to her talk about her problems, pretended to care. But all the while, he just wanted to seduce her. He ended up threatening to plead her insanity if she didn't get married to him. When she didn't do what he wanted, he slapped her or grabbed her wrist so hard it bruised. She escaped one horrible home and moved to another, married when she was sixteen. The saddest thing was, no matter how much she hated him, she loved him for helping her, too.

And so it was that she had her kids and never really got to be one herself. But she kept hope alive.

Up for love: If it happens, it happens. But she has kids and a volatile husband to think about.

Other: Her favorite color is blue. Yep. That's about it.

If there's anything I need to change, just PM me. This seems like a fun storybook.

Blake Ryan | Slave Market

"Yeah, 'smy twelf time 'ere."

"Woah, frien', wha've you been doin'? 'Sonly my t'ird."

The first guy -- a much older one -- rolled his neck nonchalantly as if he were the most daring slave around. "Dey don' respect me, I don' respect dem."

"What're you lookin' at, shortie?" sneered the second guy, bending over until Blake could nearly taste the tobacco from right out of his mouth. "Yer firs' time?"

"Thirteenf," Blake snapped, "so ya'll better hush up if y'know wha's good fer ya."

The guy backed off, both looking rather astounded at such a trouble-making slave boy. The first guy shook his head disapprovingly. "Yer gonna have to do bedder dan dat if yer gonna survive dis."

"I know wha'd I'm doin'," Blake said. He kept his back turned to them, bouncing on his heels impatiently and clicking his tongue. He leaned left and right, trying to see past the line in front of him, but unable to move any further due to the chains on his ankles. "Wha's takin' 'em? I'ma ditch this dump if they don't get a move on."

The woman in front of him turned slowly to look over her shoulder and smiled. "You got spunk, kid. Don' let 'em beat dat outta ya."

Blake didn't look at her once, ignoring the compliment as it if were poison he knew better than to touch. He grumbled and stayed in place, looking around aimlessly for something to distract him. Eventually, he crouched down and played around with his chains, despite the pain his neighbors felt from the constant tugging. Alas, he couldn't find anything but the nails in the floor that could possibly unlock them, and Blake didn't have that kind of time.

"MOVE IT." Most of the slaves snapped back into line and followed orders, not wanting to get the whip. Blake took his time getting to his feet, watching the furious guard threaten the chained-up slaves to obey. When the guard made eye contact with Blake, the boy glared right back with those piercing dark eyes. The guard stopped in his tracks and leaned inward. "Don't cause trouble, and you might get out of here with minimal lashings."

Blake spit at the guard's feet, who sneered at him. The man struck him in the head with a sharp blow of his fist, sending Blake to his knees, then moved on down the line. "LET'S GO, FOOLS. MOVE IT." The boy recovered with ease. Yeah, his head was still throbbing with pain, but it wasn't anything out of the ordinary. His body weight was pathetic though, so he didn't have the mass to hold himself up on his two feet like a real man.

The line finally moved, and the slaves were put onto the block in small groups. The jeering and shouting of the customers were about as deafening as ever. Blake had been through this enough times to know how it all went. He could go through this blind-folded, which... he would have to keep in mind for next time. It could be fun.

The woman in front of him was taken with the next group, but Blake was left behind, being the first for the next group of slaves. The posse was left standing shamefully on large wooden block, the slaves being turned around and looked at by potential customers. They checked everything. Their search was always so thorough. Remarkably thorough.

The woman who stood in front of Blake was hauled off by a nasty looking white man, who held her arm with such a strong grip, she was basically dragged out of the room. The woman knew better than to disagree though, allowing him to pull her around like an undisciplined puppy.

"Let's go, kid," one of the guards said as the two of them unlocked his shackles from the chain. The man who spoke basically threw him into the marketer's arms to be put on the block, but Blake didn't hear of it. The boy whirled and lunged for the guard, despite his wrists and ankles being chained together, but the marketer caught him just in time. The guard barked, "HA! You fool!" and raised his whip, indicating for the man to turn him around and show the boy's back -- which he did without question.

Blake squirmed violently and fought to get out of the man's grasp. The guys who stood behind Blake in line both cheered the loudest, calling out encouraging words to run. Most of the slaves were telling him to shut-up and get it over with. But of course, the customers knew best -- they chanted for a whipping.

And that's what they got.

One. Two.

Blake's teeth clenched so hard, blood was now dripping from his mouth.

Five. Six.

The man who was holding him seemed very unsettled by being so close to the whip, and another two guys had to come help hold him down before the boy managed to run for it.

Nine. Ten.

His skin burned. His arms and feet went numb from the men holding him down, but his back felt like a slab of meat. He could feel bits of skin dangling from his back, tugging on the pain further.

Twelve. Thirteen.

Thirteen lashings for a thirteen-year-old boy.

"If you're lucky, your unluckiest year will be your last," the guard finally threatened, folding his whip back. The men nearly threw him onto the block, Blake now curled up on the floor. His body racked with pain, and he could feel the warm liquid ooze down his skin. The rags he wore were drenched and made his wounds feel worse than they should have. But he stumbled onto his feet and hid his pain with a daring glare toward the guard.

They were so going to regret that.

Raijin Tharin, Emperor

Raijin snarled, smelling the steep alcohol on his son's breath from so far away. It was a pity he was such a mess, such an imperfect smear on the family's gilded name. Nevertheless, Raijin took thirteen steps towards his son, pulling his chin up to where their fierce eyes could meet. The old man had yet to lose in these staring wars, these flame wars between optical behemoths, and he didn't anticipate losing now. Rian's lips furled, showing scars and risen pieces of skin from being bitten. He'd been playing with his male slaves again.

"You are but a disgusting parasite wallowing in the richness of my waste."

Raijin tightened his grip on his son's face, slapping it to the side as he turned away, his black robes trailing him.

His son knew better than to speak ill of his father in his presence. He had to know by now. "Your friend has caused quite the arousal in the market today," he said, peering at the dark aubergine draperies around the room. "I wish for you to fetch ten slaves for the palace and five for the arena games." He turned back, staring at his son with an odd malice in his eye. "And do be sure they're willing to fight."

Riaghán | Palace - His Room:

I swallowed at the look my Father was giving me now. Such anger. It actually scared me this time. Father scared me. I nodded and silently watched as he turned to leave the room, black robes billowing out behind him. "I trust you want equal numbers, gender wise?" I asked and Father paused in the doorway. He turned back and gave me a strange look. I took it as a yes and turned away as he left, trailing black fabric in his wake.

Scowling, I went back to what I had previously been doing--changing clothes. I would do as my Father had asked, and I wouldn't question it. I wouldn't let his scathing comments get to me either. It seemed that I had become slightly immune to them. I still wasn't happy about this, though. But I might as well get on with it.

Several Minutes Later...

The streets were in chaos, but none of Darren's men bothered me. I didn't mind; I mostly ignored the...mes they were making. Father wasn't going to like that if it remained a mess. The closer I got the arena, the louder it became. Ah, they were already selling slaves. Mostly ones that had already been there several times. Slaves I had seen before. I sighed and crossed my arms. The slaves were moved on but before the next group could be brought up, I noticed a boy being beaten. And my kind streak--a deeply buried one, that is--decided to rear its ugly head.

I blinked and the lashing was over. The boy was up with the next group and I grinned. I brought him and set about following my father's orders. Four more boys, five girls. And another five for the arena. And that was when I saw him, hood fallen back and being dragged towards the block where another group of slaves were being sorted through. And the worst about this man? He reminded me so much of my father. It was the eyes, the half-opened, slightly confused eyes that were trying to focus on that man's surroundings. Eyes that burned like fire.

Unconsciously, I took a step forward, arms falling to my sides and my fists clenched. Why did this man evoke such anger in me? Such confusion? I forced myself to back up a step and turned to wave down one of the Marketers. I wanted to speak with him about the man who reminded me so much of my father. The man nodded and moved off to intercept the two guards hauling the semi-conscious man towards the block. They paused and the three men had a bit of an argument before the guard hauled their slave off to one side. I slipped out of the crowd and took the long way round to see just who this man was and why he reminded me of my father, and maybe just a little of myself.

Everything was a bloody mess, disorder and frantic cries from children and the crack of whips to silence them—everything blurred together into a sound that Rein assured himself was the devil’s voice, come to lure him into peaceful torment. He stumbled, coughing up blood from his earlier beating, and the guard behind him reared back, cracking his whip in the air, and lashed Rein against the back, the lead end of the lash bursting into his shoulder blade like a comet into a mountainside. He let out a pathetic cry, stumbling forward as the guards moved him out of line, and into an inspection area.

His eyes were closed, burning from the caked blood in his eyelashes and the drying saline tears in the crevices of his eyelids. He closed his mouth, his head turning up as a hand touched his chin, gripping his face. He was sure it was the devil’s hand.

“Open your eyes, you worthless bastard.” It was a dark voice, smooth as silk but fiery and overwhelming in its charge over Rein’s heart. Reluctantly, Rein obliged and forced his eyelids open, coming face-to-face—eye-to-eye with the glare of The Dark Prince himself. Rein struggled backwards, but the guards choked him back with chains and kicked his knees down, making him kneel before the prince. The man grabbed him by his thin hair, forcing his face upwards to where Rein could see the man’s scowl.

His eyes.

“Strip him and send him to the palace to be broken.”

Broken.

Rein closed his eyes, runs of tears scalding his cheeks as the guards heaved him back, off his feet, and placed a needled collar around his neck, chained to his feet. He’d seen it in a book—torture devices. To keep him from running. Each step to freedom is a gash in your throat.

They cuffed his hands and forced him forward with the others, but moments and images were blurring together in one stream of melded consciousness. It was as if he were in third person, a substitute in his own body to negate the pain, to negate the longing for his home, for the people who loved him.

The people who loved him.

Eselda | Leinad's Room

It was different waking up this time. It wasn't too dark, and when my eyes opened, there was a little line of sunlight creeping in from a window. I wasn't sleeping on a mat with a little blanket, either- this was a real bed, with a big thick quilt.

Which meant that I wasn't in the tunnels.

I started to remember what ha happened- that they took Xanthus, and that was enough to make me shoot up and stare at the room with wide eyes. I didn't see Papa Lein until I heard his quiet snores. He was sleeping sitting up in some old chair that couldn't have been very comfortable. And then I remembered more. I had been too scared to sleep on my own in the tunnels last night, do Kayla and Papa Lein stayed with me.

Kayla must have gone back to her room.

I rubbed my eyes and stared at the money and jewels that were piled on the desk. Those would save Xanthus? And everybody else, too?

I slipped out of the bed, barely remembering the rule. If I was going to stay up here, I wasn't allowed to go downstairs or near too many windows or people would see me and get suspicious. Papa Lein said that there was always someone watching, somebody who saw what happened, even if you didn't see them. It was kind of creepy to think about.

But right then, I was too hungry to think about getting seen by somebody outside. I tiptoed across the room, making a plan in my head to find Kayla. She was probably still sleeping, right?

"Good morning, Eselda."

I froze, right by the door and turned around to smile a bit at Papa Lein. "'Morning."

When had he even woken up?

He stood up, and there was something in his eyes. Pain, maybe. I had never really noticed it before. "Do you need help?" It was the least I could do, since he was going to go save my Xanthus soon.

But he shook his head at me. "Pass me my walking stick, and I'll be alright on my own."

I did that, and then asked if I could go find Kayla. He told me that she had to take me back to the tunnels, because it wouldn't be safe for me to stay up here after the city was awake. I didn't want to go back to the tunnels without Xanthus or Lyra, but I also didn't want to get caught and get Kayla and her grandfather into trouble. Even I knew that they had done a lot for us.

So I was really sneaky about getting to Kayla's room, and I forgot to knock on the door before I walked in. She was just pulling a brush through her hair, and I must have startled her because she jumped a little bit.

"Oh, good morning, Essy. Did you sleep alright?" She smiled, but she looked really tired. Maybe she had been too busy thinking about the others last night to fall asleep.

"Yeah. The bed's way more comfortable than the mats we have in the tunnels. But I guess there's not a lot of room for beds down there, is there?" I walked into her room and closed the door, touching the bracelet that Xanthus had got me. I wouldn't let Kayla take if off before I fell asleep last night.

"You're supposed to take me back to the tunnels. And Papa Lein said that he doesn't want you to go to where the others were taken, because he needs somebody who 'won't forget their blasted papers'-" I tried to sound like Leinad there "-and get some food and extra bandages and stuff for Leo, just in case somebody got hurt."

Leinad | His Shop

Emeralds, gold coins, rubies, jewelry, silver coins, copper coins, Louarn's papers... a mountain of things that should have been reassuring were doing no good. They mocked him as they fell into a rather large pouch, clinking and clanging and making all sorts of noise that made the man more nervous than he had before.

They could be gone by the time be got there. An official or a soldier who had taken part in the bloody raid may have taken a liking to one of them. Or all of them. Bartimeus had lost Lyra in the fray, and had made quite a tearful confession upon arriving back at the shop-- Lyra had but one eye. If that was discovered, the girl may be killed. Unless she was already dead.

Xanthus had a mouth for a million, and Eidonias knew where his sharp tongue had gotten him by that point. Maura.... she may have been called deceptive. Stoned to Seth for trying to take the place of a man.

Keatral... she was too sweet a girl. Too timid. She could be sold into any number or f servitude positions, or taken up as a wife by someone Leinad's age.

Lou's wild claims to being a Lord, and not being able to produce the damned papers to prove it... they may have executed him for impersonation.

And Rein.... Rein hadn't come back. Of all the members of the resistance, Rein worried Leinad the most. The others were relatively strong, able to talk their way out of things or run if they had a chance to. Rein wasn't weak-minded. He was no man's fool, but he was still.... Rein. There was reason to be exceptionally worried for his safety.

The thoughts drifted with Leinad to the front door of the shop, just as he heard his granddaughter and little Eselda descend. At the moment, the last thing he wanted to do was face them. They'd see fear, tears that had crusted over, and pain for his blasted leg. Kayla may try to convince him to let her come, and he would not let his granddaughter near the slave markets. Never would he let the blood and the misery that was there touch her. Soon, those filthy trades would be gone, and there would be nothing left to keep her away from.

But for now, he wouldn't allow for her to come close.

He eased the door shut behind him, pausing to give a city guard time to clean a few pieces of trash. They were still cleaning from the raids, and that was never a good sign as to how things had gone.

He made sure that the door was locked tightly before starting on his way, leaning heavily on his walking stick, ignoring the pain that was flaring through his hip and spine. Herbs could wait until his family was back home.


Asha | The Tunnels

I leaned back against the wall, eyes closed, even going as far as to pray to Leinad's god that this day end well. There was no force in all of Pash that would convince me to go back to palace. I had already thrown up the food that Leo had insisted I eat, and nausea was still there.

I would not vomit in front of the prince again.

I shifted on the stool, trying to find a more comfortable position. And then came the footsteps. A recognizable pattern, and one that I didn't particularly wish to hear at that moment. Not that I wanted to hear anybody at all, but still.

And then he was in the doorway, and I had forced my eyes open enough to give him a pained look. "What?" It came out as a half-snarl, half-moan.

Damn these hormones. They made me so irritable.


"I came to check on everything and someone told me you were sick, What's wrong?" Wonderful. Now I felt guilty for snapping at him.

I sighed and shifted again. "It's a long story." My gaze turned to one of warning. "A very long one."

He was there in a moment, taking my hand and being the soft, soothing Dante I had always remembered. "Tell me."

I bit my lip, too scared to withdraw my hand. Nobody will think any less of you, Asha. I averted my gaze, trying to ignore the fact that Leo has invaded my thoughts with those blasted words. "I just.... I'm not feeling.... I'm unwell." Unwell? I was pregnant. The child wasn't a disease, and I felt guilt creep in for even saying it.

"Did the prince do something to you?" There was something else in his tone now. That bizarre protectiveness that I had never fully understood.

Nonetheless, his question made me freeze. Oh hadn't he. I managed a nod before I could stop it, teeth digging into my lower lip until I felt blood. If I started crying, I would never forgive myself. My hand began to tremble, ever so slightly, in his. Now I had to tell him, didn't I?

Something in the atmosphere grew tense. "What did he do?" It wasn't in his tone, and I'm sure that it hadn't been in his eyes, either, had I been able to force myself to look at him, but I could sense it. I knew anger far too well, and Dante was sending it into the air.

Which meant that I couldn't answer. One hand moved up my lap, fingers just barely brushing against my belly. I prayed he didn't notice, because the tears that were suddenly on my cheeks were indication enough as to what was happening.

Apparently my silence lasted too long. "Asha, what did he do to you?" He was demanding me- this much was written all over his tone.

I cringed and pulled my hand away weakly, startled by how hard he was being. The man knew how to get to a slave girl, didn't he? Command her, and she submits. I opened my mouth to speak, choosing to get it out before I could take it back, but my words caught in my throat.

Nobody will think any less of you.

Except perhaps Dante.

"Asha, what did he do to you?"

Gods, if he was this angry simply because I was too upset to speak, what would happen if I told him? Everything in me recoiled, and before I could help it, my face was in my hands and I was sobbing, just barely choking out a, "Just don't." I almost expected him to hit me, and so I cowered into the corner a bit more.

"Asha, I'm not mad, just please tell me what he did to you." His tone may have become gentler, but my hands were still shaking.

I waited until I had gained control of my emotions to give my answer with a trembling voice. "The same things he always does to me, Dante. It's not about what he did to me, it's about what happened because of it!" The fact that I could raise my voice surprised me.

"What?"

My voice got just a little bit louder, and I hoped that he knew it was because I was scared. "What do you mean, what?"

The tenseness was back again, and I loathed it. "What did he do to you?! What happened because of it?! Tell me!"

The tears were back, rimming my eyes, but at least I could bring myself to meet his gaze now. "Stop demanding and yelling and maybe I'll be brave enough to tell you!" A tear rolled down my cheek, and my gaze turned to a glare.

"I'm sorry, Asha, but it's hard for me to stay calm when I know that bastard's done something to you!" He was yelling... gods, he was practically screaming at me.

My glare hardened. "Shut up, Dante! If they hear you yelling, they'll flock us and I'll end up vomiting and running! I'm nauseas enough as it is!"

He quieted down, but the anger was still in his eyes, burning me. "Then tell me Asha! Tell me or I swear I'll go up there and beat him to death, even if they kill me, I don't care!" His glare matched mine, sending a pang of fear through me. "Now!"

"Gods, you're a hypocrite. You sound just like him, Dante. The way you're talking." I forced myself to keep looking him in the eye. "Just like him."

"I am not him Asha, there's a huge difference! He does what he does because he thinks he can since he is in power, That's not why I'm acting like this! You don't have any idea."

I had never met anybody as frustrating as he was, I could have sworn. "Then why are you acting like this, Dante?!" My voice was getting higher again, and I felt the fear chewing at me. Did he have any idea of how scared I was right now because of him?

His answer brought on an entire new kind of fear. "Because I love you!"

Fear and more shame than I could have ever remembered feeling in my life. Whatever words I had planned to use caught in my throat, and it took me what seemed like ages to answer.

"And now I really can't tell you." My voice cracked on the last word, and if I hadn't been so sick of tears, I would have been drenched in them.

He was gentle again, as if he had finally noticed my fear. "Yes, you can Asha. Why are you being like this?"

I shrank back, closing my eyes for a moment before I forced the words out. He wouldn't love me free this. I was ruined. "I'm with child, Dante. An heir."

I was almost afraid that I wouldn't get a reply, but it came, barely audible. "How...."

And then my fear was hidden behind a bizarre stare. What did he mean 'how?' How old was he, three?

"I.. I mean I know.... but...." He paused. "I can't believe it."

In that moment, every ounce of my shame shone though. I put a hand on my belly and looked away from him. "I'm... I'm sorry, Dante-" a sob broke loose "-I'm sorry."

His arms were around me before I had time to blink. I tensed. "It's not your fault, Asha. There's nothing to feel sorry for." His lips pressed against my forehead, and in that moment, all I could do was bury my head into the base of his neck, cling to his shirt and sob. His grip tightened, but it felt... comforting. Safe.

He couldn't know my shame. He couldn't understand it.

Lyra| Slave market

"So this is it?" Lyra whimpered as she attempted to hide in the back of the crowd with the others like her. The ones who had some sort of deformity that people frowned upon. The one to her left had missing fingers, the one on her right had a deformed lip. Both things they couldn't help. "We're just going to be killed? I never thought we were this meaningless to society. I've gone soft."

The one to her right told her to shut up and returned to sobbing into her hands. One of the others nearby her hugged her close and stroked her hair. They appeared to be related-- possibly siblings. She didn't deserve something like this. She
didn't bring this upon herself like Lyra had.

"Can't you see? We still have a chance to escape. Follow me-- this way. Through the crowd," the boy on her left hissed as he grabbed her hand. Lyra chanced a glance over her shoulder to see one of the guards had grabbed the girl. He was holding her by her throat. The look of horror on her face reminded her so long ago-- of her 'little brother.' She twisted away from the boy. He paused for a moment before dashing off.

"Hey! L-leave her alone!" Lyra swung her fist and hit the guard in the arm. This did absolutely nothing but make him look over at her.

"Good god-- get a look at this one. You can see right into her bloody head!" He released the girl and snatched Lyra up by the hair. "See?" He prodded Lyra's collapsed eye socket, making her gasp in pain.

"Disgusting, just kill it and move on. We're supposed to dispose of these ones quickly," he murmured before looking away. Lyra felt her expression drop. He was disgusted with her. Something sharp pierced through the numbness that had taken over her, and she dropped to the ground.

She knew what was happening, but she was horrified. The screams were nothing but a distance buzz now-- her vision was nothing but fuzzy spots. She couldn't believe it, this had been what she had wanted. Death. It was hers now, and she was disgusted with herself.

Maura

Someone was poking Maura. Some grubby little hand, with grubby little fingers, was prodding it's grubby little self into Maura's dirt-stained cheek. Her mind churned, fighting to escape the discomfort of the touch.

"She's asleeping, Marty," a sugar-sweet voice chimed. Another hand poked at Maura's face.

"Shuddup, Suz," a boy's voice answered; obviously young, though trying to fake the deepness of age. "She's dead."

Maura groaned and stirred, turning where she lay on the cold cobblestone street. Long planks of wood shifted above her as she moved. The two young voices screamed, shouted "undead!" and two sets of footsteps pounded the cobblestone as they ran away.

Everything ached as Maura drug herself out from under the collapsed market stall table that had shielded her from the crowd for who-knew-how-long. She half-pushed herself to her feet only to tumble back down as she stepped on the hem of the dress she wore. As she hit the stone of the street, everything came rushing back.

Rein. Kestral. The Day of Filth. Everyone gone.

Her stomach turned and Maura grasped her sides as she emptied whatever contents were left in her stomach onto the street. Why did Rein have to be so weak? Why couldn't he have known better not to let himself get caught by the guards? Why didn't she teach him better to protect himself?

She dragged herself to her feet at last and looked around. The market was mostly empty; it was early and only a few vendors had come in to collect the destruction the Day of Filth had left. Nearby, the window of a men's clothing shop was broken, the interior still dark. Maura slipped in, exchanged her borrowed dress for more comfortable clothes, and slipped out again without notice.

As she pulled the hood of her new cloak down over her eyes, she caught a glimpse of an all-too familiar figure moving through the quiet market streets. An old man, aided by a walking stick Maura herself had obtained, weighted down by coins, papers, and guilt.

"Leinad," Maura murmured. Until that moment, she had planned to never lay eyes on the man again. She was going to lurk around the slave auction long enough to see that Rein was taken care of; whether that meant watching him be bought back by a resistance member or buying him back herself (however she thought she could do that). Then, she would disappear from Pash forever. But now...

Watching Leinad walk through the cobblestone streets of the market, his head held high despite the grief burdened on his shoulders, made Maura stop in her tracks. She imagined what he would say to her if he had seen her, if he had read her thoughts. He would tell her to hearten, to see that there were things larger than herself going on in Pash, or somesuch nonsense like that.

If there was anything Maura knew, it was that there was only one person she could rely on, and that was Maura. Only Maura could rely on Maura to look out for her. Only Maura could rely on Maura to always be there. Only Maura could rely on Maura to keep herself out of trouble. These were the only truths she knew.

So what Maura did next she could not explain in a thousand lives: without a thought, she tailed Leinad straight into the slave auction.

Xanthus | Slave Market

The only things surrounding me were whimpering fools. Yes, this was hardly the best situation to be in, but behaving like six-year-old girls wasn't going to get anyone anywhere. I tried my hardest not to snigger at the six foot something man to my left who was trying--and failing--to hide the fact that his eyes were leaking uncontrollably. It was beginning to get hard to concentrate on that though because of the tightness of the rope that was tied around my wrists. I could almost feel it trying to rub its way into my flesh.

Except for the whimpering of the crowd I was engulfed in, the only sound was the slow parading steps of who I assumed were guards, not that I could see them thanks to emotional Bigfoot beside me. Every now and then, the footsteps would stop and I'd hear hushed muttering. That often followed by a scream of some sort. All I could assume was that the guards were picking out the weak. Either that or the blow to my head had turned my sense of reality to mush, and none of this was actually happening. I doubted it though.

I found myself freezing for a moment when I heard a guard's footsteps pause somewhere near me. Muttering followed, but it wasn't long until the footsteps started again. Soon, people to the left of me were stepping aside and within moments, the only thing separating me from a guard was Bigfoot. Quite a good barrier, I had to admit.

"How old are you?" It didn't take a genius to figure out the guard was speaking to me, and it took even less of a genius to figure out why.

He probably thought I was twelve or something, not that I could blame him. Against the man next to me, I must have looked like a newborn child. Speaking of Bigfoot, when the guard shoved him aside to look at me properly, he quite literally squealed. Then me being me, I allowed the tiniest smirk to form onto my lips, which wasn't the best thing to do when my face was in line with that of a guard's. I really needed to learn how to control my lips.

Within seconds, the man was spitting and yelling into my face, which resulted in even more whimpering from Bigfoot. That wasn't helping me get rid of the smirk on my face at all, although I had to admit, I wasn't trying all that hard to get rid of it in the first place. If anything, I was embracing it. I figured that meant I was probably turning insane. Finally, the guard stopped yelling, and so I decided to enjoy my new-found insanity.

"Well, I certainly hope you don't have that attitude towards the customers when you sell all of us. You'll be unable to get much business behaving like that."

I may as well have had fun with it considering I was probably already dead after all of the smirking anyway. If I wasn't, I most definitely was now. Before I even knew it was happening, I was being ripped from the line I was in. I had no idea how the guard untied my hands so easily though, not that I had much time to think about it. When I was freed from the crowd and released into the fresh air, I could actually breathe without inhaling buckets of sweat. I would have rejoiced in it if I didn't know what was to come.

It began with a kick in my stomach--to wind me, I assumed. Even if that wasn't its purpose, that's what it did. More kicks followed along with punches and gods knew what else. It was strange though because it was as if I knew they were happening, but I couldn't feel them. The way my mind was spinning with millions of thoughts must have numbed them, or maybe it was something to do with my lack of sanity right now. Or I was dying. Either one.

The majority of me knew that they wouldn't go that far though; I was money, and as arrogant as it sounded, I knew all too well that a pretty, young man like me could have sold for a good price. No, they wouldn't kill me... I just wasn't sure if I was happy or not about that.