Rattle! Rattle!

The Lava Transport Carriage rattled violently as it traversed the rugged terrain, jostling Sorah against the other captives crammed inside. He winced, feeling the aches in his battered body. Beside him, a young girl whimpered, clutching her forehead where a fresh air affinity brand pulsed with ethereal light. Her mother held her close, filled with concern and defiance.

Five other souls shared their cramped confinement, each bearing the mark of the Terravolt Kingdom’s oppressive regime on their foreheads. The girl’s uncle, a burly man with a calloused face and an earth affinity brand, muttered curses under his breath.

"Thank you... for trying to protect my daughter," the woman spoke softly, barely audible above the rattle of the carriage.

With a feeble smile, Sorah expressed his sorrow at not being able to stop them from being captured. "It was the least I could do," he replied, sounding hoarse from the earlier exertions. "My name is Sorah. I... I am an Aerithran."

The woman's eyes widened slightly, but any hint of fear was quickly replaced by gratitude. "I am Elara," she said. "And this is my daughter, Anya, and my brother, Brokk." She gestured towards the others in the carriage, introducing them as fellow villagers from the settlement.

Curiosity fighting against the worry that was imprinted on Elara's face, she inquired, "What brings you to the Terravolt Kingdom, Mister Sorah?"

Sorah hesitated, unsure of how much to reveal. "I am searching for my students," he finally answered. "They were captured during the invasion of Cloud Hamlet."

Elara's expression softened with empathy. "I understand," she said. "Five years ago, I too was a resident of the Aerithra Kingdom. I left my home and moved here when I married my husband, a Terravolt Centurian."

A flicker of sadness crossed her eyes. "He... he did not agree with the invasion of Cloud Hamlet. He refused to participate, and for his defiance, he was imprisoned here in the Nathor Prison Camp."

Sorah's heart sank as he listened to Elara's story. He had overheard the villagers spoke of the Nathor Prison Camp; supposedly a place of darkness and despair where those who opposed the Dune Directorate were sent to be broken and forgotten.

"And your students... do you believe they might be held there as well?" Elara asked.

"It's possible," Sorah admitted, clinging to that fragile hope. "Do you know anything about the camp? What kind of place is it?"

Brokk, who had been silent until then, spat on the floor of the carriage with disdain. "It is a hellhole," he growled. "A place where hope goes to die." He then elaborated, describing the camp as an impenetrable fortress of iron and stone, with multiple layers of walls patrolled by heavily armed guards and Battle Mechs. He mentioned a wide steel mesh that covered the entire airspace, preventing any chance of escape by air.

“What about captives from the Aerithra Kingdom, do you know if any have been brought to Nathor?” Sorah asked curiously.

Elara and Brokk exchanged a knowing glance. "There have been rumours," Elara said hesitantly. "Whispers of Aerithran prisoners being brought in under heavy guard. But it’s just speculation. No one knows for sure."

As Sorah listened to their words, a flicker of determination ignited within him. He had to find a way to search around the Nathor Prison Camp and rescue his students, even if it meant facing insurmountable odds.

Suddenly, a loud clang against the metal bars of the carriage jolted Sorah from his thoughts. A Pyro Warrior, riding beside the carriage on a small Cinderback Strider steed, glared at them with fiery eyes.

"Silence, you maggots!" he barked. "Keep your voices down, or I'll give you something to truly whine about!"

Sorah ignored the soldier's threat and continued his conversation with Elara and Brokk, gathering as much information as he could about the Nathor Prison Camp. He learned that the camp was situated inside a vast chasm below the high plateau they were currently descending. Its location made it nearly impossible to assault or infiltrate without being detected by the ears of the earth watchers.

"We're almost there," Squad Captain Chek announced from his position at the front of the procession.

The carriages rattled and swayed as they navigated a narrow, winding path that clung precariously to the cliffside, going down further and further into the vast chasm. Below them, the chasm plunged into darkness, its depths shrouded in dust and mystery.

Sorah peered through the bars of the carriage, his gaze fixed on the distant fortress that loomed below like a monstrous ironclad beast. He could see the flags of the Terravolt Kingdom flapping in the wind, their colours reminded him of the oppressive regime that held sway over these lands.

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"Nathor Prison Camp," Brokk muttered beside him, laced with bitterness and dread.

They passed through a huge cloud of dust as they approached the main gate. The camp was even more imposing than Sorah had imagined. The thick iron walls, the watchtowers bristling with weaponry, the heavily armoured guards, it all spoke of a place designed to break the will of those imprisoned within its confines.

The carriages passed through a checkpoint and entered the prison grounds. Sorah felt a wave of nausea wash over him as he noticed the thick, metallic scent of blood that hung heavy in the air. He realized that this camp was not just a prison; it was a torture chamber.

“Kyahh! Kyah! Hiyah!”

His gaze drifted towards a skinny man tied to a metal pole in the courtyard. The man was naked and covered in lacerations, his body resembled a canvas of pain and suffering. He cried out hysterically through the courtyard like a mournful dirge. Surprisingly enough, the brand on the man’s forehead was that of earthen nature, meaning he was a citizen of the Terravolt Kingdom.

"That is what happens to those who defy Warden Poahf," Titus remarked with a cruel smirk.

"A prime example for the rest of these scum," Sojourn added while staring at them with sadistic pleasure.

Sorah's stomach churned as he watched the guards taunt and torment the helpless prisoner. He could feel the man's anguish, his desperation, and it filled him with a burning rage.

Elara, noticing Anya's horrified gaze fixed on the scene, quickly covered her daughter's eyes. "Don't look, Anya," she whispered tremblingly. "It's alright."

But Anya, despite her young age, understood the cruelty that was unfolding before her. She had seen the branding, the beatings, the despair in the eyes of the villagers, and it had left an indelible mark on her innocent soul.

Sorah clenched his jaw, fighting back the urge to intervene. He knew that any rash action would only worsen their situation. He had to bide his time, to find an opportunity to escape and rescue his students.

"Warden Poahf has arrived!" a guard announced loudly.

Sorah's gaze snapped towards the approaching figure, and he was surprised to see, not a burly, battle-scarred man as he had envisioned, but a strikingly beautiful woman clad in sleek, form-fitting armour. Her long, dark hair cascaded down her back, contrasting with the cold, calculating sharpness in her eyes.

Warden Poahf surveyed the newly arrived captives with disdain. Her lips curled into a sneer as she turned to Titus, dripping with icy venom.

"Captain Chek, why have these prisoners not been properly secured with Ethereum Handguards?"

Titus squirmed under her gaze, his bravado fading. "But... Warden, they are mere weaklings. We outnumber them greatly. There's no need for such restraints."

Poahf's squinted menacingly. "Do not question my orders, Captain. Ethereum Handguards are mandatory for all prisoners, regardless of their perceived strength or affinity. Have you forgotten the incident with the Aerithran escapee last month?"

Titus's face paled as he recalled the embarrassing incident. An Aerithran Windweaver, captured during a border skirmish, had managed to escape his cell by manipulating the air currents within the prison. It had taken days to recapture the fugitive, and Titus had been severely reprimanded for his negligence.

"And what of the Elemental Imprinter?" Poahf continued, sounding like a whip cracking against stone. "I have received reports that it was damaged during your... operation."

Titus swallowed hard, shifting his gaze to avoid her piercing gaze. "It... it was the old man, Warden. He destroyed the machine with his... staff."

Poahf turned her attention to Sorah, scrutinizing him from head to toe. She moved closer, circling him like a predator stalking its prey. Sorah felt a shiver run down his spine as she leaned in with her nose twitching as if she were smelling him.

Sniff! Sniff!

"An Aerithran," she purred with a strange mixture of curiosity and disdain. "And a rather... potent one, it seems."

“Hmm… I wonder…” Suddenly, she reached out and grabbed Sorah's groin, squeezing firmly.

“Gah!” Sorah yelped in surprise and pain, his face flushing crimson.

Poahf laughed, a cold, humourless sound that echoed through the courtyard. "Such a delicate flower," she mocked. "We shall see how long your defiance lasts within these walls."

She turned to a nearby guard. "Take them to Sector C. Ensure they are properly restrained and kept under close watch."

"Yes, Warden Poahf," the guard replied, bowing his head submissively.

After being shackled with Ethereum Handguards – potent Aether Steam suppressors, Sorah and the other captives were led away. They had entered a realm of darkness, a place where cruelty and despair reigned supreme. As they were marched through the prison corridors, Sorah noticed the grim faces of the other prisoners, their expressions were filled with a hollowness that spoke of broken spirits and shattered dreams.

When they got to Sector C, it was a poorly lighted cell block that smelled like blood, perspiration, and unwashed corpses. The officers pushed them into a small, claustrophobic cell with damp, icy walls.

"Stay here and rot," one of the guards snarled before slamming the cell door shut with a resounding clang.

Sorah felt the burden of their situation bearing down on him as he leaned against the chilly stone wall. Even with the Ethereum Handguard covering his arms, the energy of the Sage Curse still pulsed within him, a continual reminder of the power he possessed, but it was small compared to where they were right now.

He glanced at Elara and Anya, who huddled together in a corner of the cell. Anya's eyes were red and puffy from crying and from trembling with fear. Elara held her close, whispering words of comfort and reassurance that Sorah mildly thought were hollow in this desolate place.

"We will get out of here," Sorah said firmly. "I promise." He was sure by now that Rice Guru had caught wind of his capture and was setting into motion, certain ploys.

A glimmer of optimism briefly replaced Elara's dejection as she glanced up at him. "How, Mister Sorah?" she asked softly. "This place... it is a fortress. No one escapes Nathor Prison Camp."

With his gaze fixed on the barred window high above them, Sorah took a deep breath and said with conviction, "There is always a way. We just have to find it."

Sorah shut his eyes and concentrated his will as the cell's darkness engulfed them. He made a self-promise as he saw his students’ faces, marked by both optimism and terror. He was going to locate them. He was going to save them. He was going to get out of this prison and find the people who were behind this cruelty.

The winds of fate had brought him to this place, and he would not be broken. He would rise above the darkness, and he would become the storm.