Hot water hit Sabir’s body; it did very little to ease the pain radiating from his chest. He used his fingers to pull his long hair back, which had grown long enough to reach the tip of his nose. The overwhelming pain from that night had quelled only slightly; he had fallen asleep for a few hours before being woken by Warren and forced into the shower.
The water here was clean, smooth with no lingering smell; the water in The Commons paled in comparison. Yet Sabir knew this comfort to be temporary; once he left this room, he had to prepare for war.
He banged his fist against his chest, trying to erase the pain that kept flowing within him with more pain. Yet he couldn’t feel his hand on his chest; the bulging veins numbed all sense of touch in that area. Come on, Sabir, fight it. He closed his eyes, trying to rally himself.
Turning the tap off, he dried himself with the towel Warren left behind, along with a new pile of clothes for him to wear. Sabir examined the clothing; it seemed to be from Warren’s own wardrobe, something that didn’t fit him. A plain white shirt with a black jacket, along with some pants.
The sound of shouting penetrated through the bathroom door as he put his arms through the shirt. Elektra was here. “Shit, why is she here now?” Sabir cursed. Quickly, he got dressed and went to see what all the shouting was about.
An army of maids swarmed the room, each levitating an iron ball, their eyes glowing with concentration, their telekinesis impressive. The clanging of chains drew Sabir’s attention to Elektra, who placed Zabo back in cuffs. “Don’t even think about using your powers; one move and I’ll fry your brain.”
“Let go of me,” said Zabo, trying to pull away from Elektra, despite her threats.
“You know he can barely move with those lumps of iron tied to him,” Warren protested, his voice even but tense. “We’re not helping him if we keep him locked up like this.”
Warren knew that with those weights, Zabo could never escape. Any attempt would be futile. He had to give him a chance. After all, allowing Zabo to escape with Sabir in tow would mean Sabir would survive. He couldn’t allow his only friend to die.
“Barely move? You’re forgetting who we’re dealing with, Warren. This one didn’t just try to escape once; no, he tried to escape even now, when we needed him.” She pointed at Zabo accusatively. “I’m not taking any chances; him barely moving is a blessing for us.”
He tried to escape again. Without me? Sabir didn’t know what had happened, but clearly Zabo made a break for it, and Elektra intercepted him. Sabir didn’t understand why he’d try to escape without a plan when they decided they’d work together.
“Ah, if it isn’t Sabir, enjoying the water, I suppose. Well, I hope you made the most of it. Your friend here had landed you back in the cell. Oh, and we’re going to keep some guards to watch over you, too. Can’t let you ever think of escaping again.”
And just like that, guards escorted them back to the cell they thought they had escaped.
***
“Why the hell did you try to escape!?” Sabir screamed, ignoring the pain he felt in his chest.
Zabo was now tied back to the ground, all the iron balls attached once again. “Listen, I wasn’t trying to escape; I was scouting looking for ways to escape,” he whispered so the guards outside couldn’t hear them.
“So now what wise guy, Mr. Aura?” said Sabir, rolling his eyes.
“I fucked up.” Zabo muttered. “I’m not getting anywhere now with these damn things attached to me. I’m sorry, Sabir.”
Frustration clawed at Sabir; how did they get hit with a setback like this? It was almost unconceivable, and all of it was unavoidable. No. Elektra knew this would happen. She wanted this to happen. She wanted us to think we could escape so then she could put us back in here. Destroying all our hope. The escape was all pretense. Sabir clenched his fist before he punched the wall.
“Aye, keep it down.” A guard shouted.
Sabir glanced at Zabo, feeling the weight of the situation pressing down on him. Both of them were trapped—physically and mentally. He hated the feeling of helplessness, but what could they do? His own body was betraying him. The black veins that had started at his chest were now creeping toward his neck and stomach; the dark web-like lines pulsed beneath his skin. He buttoned the collar of his shirt to hide the veins.
He needed to hide it; if he were to show weakness now, Zabo would only come to worry. They needed to remain calm, but it would come at the cost of Sabir’s life. The pain was unbearable; it constantly throbbed, like a worm; it crawled through his body, through his veins, threatening to tear through and escape.
While Sabir stifled his screams and groans, Zabo lost hope. The defiance that had once burned in his eyes was slowly fading, replaced by a dull resignation. He knew it wasn’t over; they had a setback because of his stupidity, but there was still a chance. The day of the expedition. That was their chance. When everyone was distracted, they’d make a bolt for it.
Sabir noticed Zabo close his eyes to meditate, just like last time, the same slow, deliberate breathing he’d used before to heal himself. Maybe Zabo was building up strength, or maybe it was just a way to pass the time. Sabir wasn’t sure, but the sight of it gave him some strange comfort.
The days slowly rolled by; Warren only came to visit once; he had to prepare for the expedition, leaving them alone. Sabir noticed his fear; the truth was Warren had the most power to help them, but his fear of his family prevented him from pulling through. Sabir didn’t blame him; no, he even respected him for trying. They were small ants among titans. In The Limbo, it was every man for themselves; to even feel the support of a friend for him was enough.
“Even with my aura,” Zabo said one night, breaking the silence that had settled between them. “I wouldn’t be able to run away with these weights attached to me. They’re too heavy; I’d never make it far.”
Sabir nodded, leaning back against the cold stone wall of their cell. “I know. But we might have a chance. Elektra said they plan on using us; they have to take those chains off if that’s the case.”
Zabo sighed, his eyes closing as he rested his head against the wall. “Yeah. We’re going to be used, whatever they have planned for us.” The prospect didn’t sit well with either of them; both of their hatred for nobles only grew with each passing day.
Stolen novel; please report.
Frederick came by regularly to check on them, though Sabir had wished he’d do more than just look. There were moments when Sabir secretly hoped the old butler would put him out of his misery. The pain was becoming unbearable, and he wasn’t sure how much longer he could take it. But all Frederick did was stare at them like they were animals in a zoo, then simply walked away, grumbling to himself.
The only silver lining in this nightmare was the food. They were being fed well, better than Sabir had ever eaten in The Limbo. The meals were better than what Warren would give him, which was essentially his lunch half eaten; they were given dishes filled with rich meats and fresh vegetables, nothing like the scraps he was used to. Zabo had a theory about it.
“They’re keeping us healthy for a reason,” Zabo had said one evening, poking at his meal. “They need us for something. I reckon they're gonna use us as monster bait or something.”
Sabir didn’t doubt it. The day of the dungeon expedition was fast approaching, and the Voltaires had made it clear that they were coming along, whether they liked it or not.
The morning of the expedition arrived sooner than expected. Sabir had spent most of the night in restless pain, the black veins now inching dangerously close to his throat. He kept his shirt pulled tight, doing his best to conceal the grotesque marks. If someone like Elektra noticed, they’d probably kill him; the reason was obvious. Faulty goods.
Elektra and Warren appeared at their cell, the sound of the heavy iron door creaking open, jolting Sabir out of his uneasy sleep. Warren stepped forward first, his face set in its usual hardened expression, but there was a flicker of sympathy behind his dark, tired eyes. His hair had grown out since Sabir had first met him, now tied loosely in a bun at the back of his head, with a few strands still hanging down in front, framing his face. The long hair gave him a more rugged appearance. He wore a simple white t-shirt beneath a black trench coat that billowed slightly as he walked, and on the chest of his shirt was the Voltaire symbol—a bird with its wings spread wide, flanked by two jagged lightning bolts.
“Get up,” Elektra commanded, stomping on the ground to wake up Zabo, who was still snoring loudly. There was no warmth in her tone, only cold authority. She strode into the cell with purpose, her cyan hair cropped short, falling just above her ears. She wore a sleek, fitted grey crop top revealing her toned midriff, camo khaki pants tucked into black combat boots that clacked against the cellar floor with every step. Like Warren, her shirt bore the Voltaire family’s emblem, the bird and lightning bolts shimmering faintly in the dim light.
“It’s time,” said Elektra, smiling, her eyes locked onto Sabir’s. There was no room for negotiation in her gaze. They were going to be dragged into this expedition. Her gaze seemed to dare him to try something—to even attempt to escape.
Sabir stumbled to his feet, his legs flaring with pins and needles. Zabo lagged behind, grunting as he tried to stand, the weight of the iron balls dragging him down. “I’m struggling to move,” Zabo muttered. “Can you take these damn balls off me?”
Elektra laughed, shaking her head. “You really think I’m that stupid? You’ve got twenty fully fledged hunters outside waiting. Go ahead, try to escape. I’d love to see you die. Warren, remove the chains.”
Zabo and Sabir shot each other looks. We’re fucked, they thought in unison; if they even made it out of the estate, there would be several hunters waiting for them. They had lost all hope. They were at Elektra’s mercy.
Warren moved toward Zabo’s chains, his expression serious. “On second thought,” Zabo said quickly, taking a breath to control his anger, “I think I’ll keep the chains. I’ve grown attached to them. Just get rid of the damn balls.”
With a sigh, Warren crouched down, removing the iron balls from Zabo’s chains. He leaned in, whispering in Zabo’s ear. “She’s right. You try anything now, and you’re dead. Don’t be stupid. Play along. Wait. We’ll get you out of here, eventually; but one wrong move. You get yourself and Sabir killed.”
Zabo’s expression darkened; with the weight lifted, he got up. He stretched each arm; the chains rustling with each movement.
With everything set, Elektra led the way; she motioned for Warren to stay close to the two of them. Warren stood behind the pair, leading them out of the cell. He leaned in between them and spoke in a hushed tone, low enough for his sister not to hear. “You’re going to be our porters for this expedition. I just found out. They didn’t have anyone else to hire.”
“Bullshit!” Zabo cursed. Being a porter was dangerous; they were dispensable only to be used to carry the team’s belongings; they could be left for dead at a moment’s notice. It’s fine; I can protect myself. But the issue is him. Zabo peered at Sabir; he was clenching his jaw tight and his eyes were dark from lack of sleep. “You alright,” asked Zabo.
“You two shut up and keep walking,” Elektra’s voice cut off their whispers. Warren, in response, pushed the new pair of porters forward.
“I’m fine,” Sabir grunted.
Zabo looked at Warren, and they both exchanged worried looks. With Elektra having eyes behind her back, they stepped outside, saying nothing else. The cool breeze hit Sabir’s face, and for the first time in what felt like forever, he breathed in the fresh morning air. It was strange, feeling the warmth of the sun on his skin after so long being locked a dark cell. Zabo walked beside him, silent but taking in the same relief.
The fresh air was a brief reprieve, but as Sabir and Zabo stepped further into the open, the sight that greeted them brought an additional weight to their hearts. Beyond the estate walls, a large group of people had gathered. People wearing different styles of attire, some armored in heavy steel, others cloaked in dark leather, but all of them looked stiff and emotionless. The vibe they gave off was like when Sabir had first met Cassius. The gleam of weapons strapped to their backs, from swords to rifles, made him squint. Elektra was right. These hunters were prepared for a war.
They would kill without hesitation.
Four huge armored vehicles were parked in front of the groups. They were each low to the ground yet robust, resembling beasts with heavy black tires and steel-plated bodies that looked ready to endure anything. The crowd moved around them, inspecting their equipment, whispering to one another, and getting ready for the upcoming expedition.
Warren and Elektra led Sabir and Zabo toward the group, and Sabir couldn’t shake the rising dread in his stomach. The black veins on his body pulsed with every step, the pain slowly becoming unbearable, but he kept his expression neutral. Zabo was right beside him, quiet, his eyes flicking warily over the scene.
Suddenly, something changed. Sabir sensed it before he saw it—a surge of wind so strong it almost knocked him off his feet. He heard a sound; it sounded oddly familiar, like giant wings flapping through air. Whatever it was, it was huge, and it was coming closer, breaking through the air with an intensity that froze him in place.
Out of nowhere, something from above gripped him—sharp and powerful—it lifted him off the ground with such speed and force that everything beneath him, not just the ground, but also the trees, the buildings, and the sky, blurred together. He opened his mouth to scream, but the wind blasted the sound away. Despite it all, he was being lifted higher and higher into the air, with everything down below becoming smaller and smaller.
Sabir could discern only the outlines of what had captured him. It was massive, sleek, and dark, with thick feathers and a body that comprised pure muscle. As its powerful claws dug into his sides, its long, serpentine neck stretched down toward him, its fierce and predatory eyes glaring back at him. Just when he thought they couldn’t possibly get any higher, it propelled them higher into the air.
It looked like something from an ancient legend, a hybrid of eagle and lion, but far more terrifying. The beast let out a deafening screech, and Sabir’s heart raced in panic as he realized how high they were climbing.
It was taking him directly up into the clouds; the wind screaming in his ears. The beast’s grip was as tight as it could get, and death felt certain. Sabir’s vision blurred again, and the pain in his body merged with the terror of the moment. He was being pulled upward, and everything was slipping away.
Fear surged through him, an icy wave that clawed at his chest even harder than the creature’s talons. As the wind tore at his face, all Sabir could think was that this was it—his last moments. The pain, the black veins, the hopelessness of escape—all of it collapsed under the crushing reality of the sky, pulling him into its void.
And then, there was nothing but the sky above and the chaos below, as the ground disappeared beneath him…