The cell was unnervingly silent, a rare occurrence in the slaves' quarters. The dim torchlight flickered across stone walls, casting distorted shadows on faces that were gaunt with exhaustion and fear. Maria stood in the middle of the room, her shoulders squared despite the weight of her words. The pets—most of them barely more than shadows of themselves—sat clustered around her.

Their hollow eyes reflected her, but Maria's voice carried a fire that none of them had felt in years. "Listen to me," she began, her tone commanding and fierce, unlike the timid obedience they'd been forced to adopt. "You've heard the rumors, haven't you? Whispers of escape? I need you to understand something. This isn't just about getting out of here. This is about taking back what they stole from us—our lives, our dignity, our souls."

Several pets glanced at one another nervously, their eyes darting to the single iron door that kept them trapped. Maria continued, pacing now, her words laced with urgency. "I know what you're thinking. 'We're just pets. We're weaker, smaller, less useful than the slaves.' But I'll tell you this—without you, there is no escape. You think the slaves can do this alone? They can't. They need us. And we need them."

A murmur rippled through the group, hesitant but undeniable.

Maria stopped pacing and turned to face them fully, her green eyes fierce. "I won't lie to you," she said, her voice dropping to a near whisper. "Most of us won't make it. Some of us will die before we even get out of the mansion. But let me ask you this—would you rather die fighting for your freedom, or live the rest of your days waiting for them to bleed you dry?"

A younger pet, barely more than a girl, wiped at her tear-streaked face. "But what if we fail?" she whispered.

"Then we fail together," Maria said, her voice firm. "But at least we'll know we tried."

For a long moment, the room was silent. Then, one by one, the pets began to nod. Their fear hadn't disappeared, but Maria's words had ignited a spark in their hearts—one they hadn't felt in years.

Elias adjusted the straps of the blood bag wheelbarrow, his shoulders tense as he followed Michael down the dimly lit corridor. The mansion above was oppressive, but this—this was something else entirely. The air grew colder the farther they descended, the stone walls slick with moisture and stained a deep, ominous red.

"Charming place," Michael muttered, his voice dripping with sarcasm. He didn't even bother hiding his disgust as the scent of rot hit them, thick and nauseating.

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Elias glanced over his shoulder, his eyes narrowing. "How can you be so casual about this?"

"Because," Michael said with a smirk, "it's either laugh or puke. And I'd rather not give them the satisfaction."

The staircase finally ended, opening into a cavernous underground chamber. The air here was different—heavy with the iron tang of blood and the faint, unmistakable sound of growls.

The flickering firelight illuminated the walls, revealing deep gouges carved into the stone. Elias stopped, his breath catching as he noticed the sheer number of scratches, as though something had spent years trying to claw its way out.

"Looks like someone had a bad day," Michael said, pushing the wheelbarrow forward.

Elias ignored him, his attention drawn to the cages that lined the walls. Inside the first one was a creature that barely resembled a vampire. Its skin hung from its bones in shredded patches, exposing raw, glistening muscle beneath. Its eyes—bright red and filled with unrelenting hunger—snapped to Elias as he passed.

The feral threw itself against the bars, its jagged teeth snapping wildly. Elias stumbled back, his heart pounding in his chest.

"Don't let them scare you," Michael said, his tone dismissive. "They're just animals. Mindless, starving animals."

Elias swallowed hard, his gaze fixed on the creature as it snarled and lunged again. "This is what happens when vampires don't feed?" he asked, his voice barely above a whisper.

Michael nodded. "Yeah. They go feral. No thoughts, no plans—just hunger. If they didn't cage them up, they'd tear through this place like a plague."

The pair continued down the row, the ferals growing more agitated with every step. One had lost its lower jaw, but that didn't stop it from snapping wildly at the air. Another was so emaciated that its ribs jutted out like knives, yet its strength was evident in the way it bent the iron bars of its cage.

Elias forced himself to breathe, the sight of these creatures rattling him more than he cared to admit. "Why don't they just kill them?" he asked.

Michael shrugged. "Maybe they're saving them for something. Or maybe they just like knowing they're down here, suffering."

As they approached the final cage, Elias hesitated. This feral was different—larger, more grotesque. Its limbs were elongated, its fingers ending in claws that scraped against the floor. Its eyes locked onto Elias, and for a moment, he swore it smiled.

He turned to Michael, desperate for distraction. "Why do you suck up to the vampires?"

Michael's smirk faltered, his usual bravado slipping. "What's it to you?"

"Because it's pathetic," Elias said, his frustration boiling over. "You act like they're your friends, but they'll kill you just like the rest of us."

Michael's jaw tightened. "You don't know what you're talking about."

"Then tell me," Elias pressed. "Why do you act like this?"

Michael was silent for a long moment. Finally, he spoke, his voice low and bitter. "Because I've seen what happens when you don't. My sister... they took her, made her a pet. I thought I could protect her if I stayed useful, but it didn't matter. They played their games with her anyway."

Elias stared at him, his anger softening into pity. "I'm sorry," he said quietly.

"Don't be," Michael snapped. "It won't bring her back."

They finished their task in silence, the growls of the ferals echoing in their ears.

Later that night, Elias found Luke preparing food, for himself and the slaves. The one thing bringing us together. A semi decent meal together. The firelight cast long shadows across his face, making him look older than his years.

"Luke," Elias said, his voice urgent.

Luke looked up, his expression weary. "What is it?"

Elias quickly described the feral prison—the blood-soaked walls, the lack of guards, the terrifying creatures. "It's a weak point," he concluded. "If we can figure out how to use it, we might have a chance."

Luke's brow furrowed as he considered this. "It's risky," he said finally. "But it might be our only shot."

Elias nodded. "Then let's make it count."

Looks like I will have to give lord malric another visit.