Elliot's mind was a dark, swirling fog, drifting between worlds, between lives. The taste of salt lingered on his tongue—bitter, sharp—as the rhythmic sound of the waves beckoned him into an unfamiliar reality.

His chest heaved with the weight of breaths he wasn't sure he was supposed to take, and when his eyes cracked open, the world that greeted him was a stranger's.

The sand beneath him was warm, almost alive, as though the earth itself whispered secrets beneath his fingertips. Each grain seemed to shift and pulse with a heartbeat of its own.

Sunlight poured down in burning streams, scattering gold and light across the endless stretch of shore before him. A thousand shades of blue kissed the horizon, but the air… the air felt heavy, laden with heat and the humid scent of the wild.

The sea was both a friend and an enemy—its murmurs caressed his senses, yet carried an undercurrent of danger, a promise of its relentless hunger.

He coughed, and the sound rattled in his chest. The briny taste of saltwater stung the back of his throat. His muscles screamed, sluggish, disobedient. His legs quivered, barely supporting his weight as he struggled to sit up.

A strange, unfamiliar power swirled beneath his skin, a current too potent to ignore. He could feel it—coursing through his veins like molten lava, crackling with an energy he couldn't comprehend. The warm sunlight shone down on his skin, each drop of sweat mingling with the salt of the sea.

*Where am I?* His thoughts were jagged, broken.

The beach stretched out before him like a vast, empty canvas, dotted with sharp rocks and twisted trees that rose from the sand like forgotten giants. Beyond, the jungle loomed—lush and untamed, its leaves whispering in the wind. It was as if the land itself was holding its breath, waiting for him to step deeper into its embrace.

Then a sound broke the silence—a rustling from the jungle. A shifting, a snapping of branches, the distant cracks and thuds of footsteps on dry earth. Elliot froze, his body tense, a primal instinct rising in his chest. Something wasn't right.

Out of the undergrowth, figures appeared—dark shapes against the wild backdrop. They moved with the quiet precision of predators, their eyes glinting with cruel intent. Rough, ragged clothes clung to their sinewy bodies, their faces hidden beneath hoods and scarves.

And in their hands, crude weapons gleamed in the sunlight—machetes, jagged knives, and heavy chains that clinked with a sound like the distant toll of a bell.

Did you know this story is from Royal Road? Read the official version for free and support the author.

*Slavers.*

The word clawed at his mind, sharp and familiar. His breath caught, a cold dread sweeping over him like the tide. They were moving toward him, the ground beneath their feet *crunching* with each deliberate step.

—*thum-thum-thum*—

The rhythm of his own heart, pounding seemed to grow louder, drowning out everything else. He staggered to his feet, his legs unsteady as though he were learning to walk again. The air felt thick around him, every movement a battle against the weight of his own body.

But there was no time to think.

The first slaver reached him, his hands like iron, gripping his arm and yanking him forward with a force that stole the breath from his lungs. His wrist being twisted made Elliot wince, his muscles burning with the effort to resist. He thrashed, but the slaver's grip tightened, like the claws of a beast that knew its prey too well.

*clang*

His other hand grabbed for the chain dangling from the slaver's waist, pulling it taut with a sickening sound.

And then came the blow.

A fist slammed into his gut, the air bursting from his lungs in a ragged gasp. The world spun around him, blurring in and out of focus. His legs buckled, and he collapsed to the sand, the sting of saltwater mixing with the taste of blood in his mouth.

Pain bloomed, hot and sharp, a cruel reminder of his vulnerability. The jungle around him seemed to press in closer, as if the earth itself were eager to swallow him whole.

The slavers loomed over him, their eyes hard and cruel, a twisted grin spreading across the face of the one in charge—a scarred man with a mouth full of yellowed teeth. His voice was guttural, low, like the growl of a beast savoring a kill.

"You're a fine specimen, foreigner," the man sneered, his breath reeking of tobacco and rot.

There was no time to think, no time to question. The cage was closing around him, the bars of his fate locking tighter with each passing second.

*clang*

The sound of him hitting against metal echoed around him, reverberating through the stillness like the final toll of a bell. The other prisoners stared through the bars, hollow-eyed and gaunt, their faces marked by suffering and defeat. The air was thick with the stench of sweat, fear, and the salt of the sea.

The man grinned, his teeth yellow and sharp. "You'll be worth a lot of coin, if you don't die first."

Their cruel laughter echoed around him, a sickening chorus that twisted inside him like a knife. *

The door slammed shut with a sound that echoed in the thick, stifling air. His heart skipped a beat.

*Trapped*

The iron was unforgiving, a silent prison. Elliot slumped against the far corner, the weight of despair crashing down on him like a falling boulder.

Around him, there were others—others who had been broken, who had given in to the world that trapped them. Their eyes were hollow, their faces drawn with exhaustion and fear. The silence between them was thick and suffocating, each breath a labor, each glance heavy with resignation. The air in the cage felt close, stale, as if it too had given up.

But not Elliot.

A low growl rumbled deep within his chest, primal and untamed. *No*. He would not be shackled. He would not submit.

As the night descended, the jungle came alive with a cacophony of sounds—chirps, howls, and the distant splash of waves crashing on the shore. The wind whispered through the trees, as though the world itself was listening to him, waiting for him to make his move.

In the flickering firelight of the slaver's camp, the shadows danced around him, stretching long and eerie. The darkness felt alive, alive with possibilities.