ARCES PENDRAGON

I lay in darkness, my body immobile for so long that I had lost all notion of the passage of days. In that underground and damp place, deprived of light and company, I struggled to maintain my sanity while waiting for sensation to return to my limbs. How long has it been? Days? Weeks? Months? I no longer know. This silence, this darkness... they are driving me mad.

One day, without warning, my fingers moved slightly. It was barely a spasm, but for me it meant the entire world. Although I could not see my face in the gloom, I imagined a smile of relief illuminating my features. Gradually, sensation spread throughout my body. Power began to flow through my veins, reactivating my senses one by one.

"I can move! My God, I can move!" I thought I would never feel anything again. It was as if I had been dead and suddenly returned to life. The smell of dampness flooded my nostrils, confirming what I had suspected: I was underground. However, that detail was of no importance to me at that moment. The only thing that mattered was that I could feel again.

My fingers flexed cautiously, trembling with the effort. A shiver ran through my toes as they felt the cold stone floor. I was overwhelmed by a deep gratitude for those minimal sensations that reminded me I was still alive. It's strange to feel thankful for something as simple as being able to move my fingers or feel cold, but after so long submerged in a sensory limbo, these sensations left me breathless.

During my captivity, I had waged an internal battle to preserve my identity and sanity. A few more days in that state and I would undoubtedly have gone completely mad. I wasn't even sure if I hadn't already done so.

Happiness engulfed me as I verified that sensation was returning to my limbs. With a bit more effort, I would soon be able to move my arms and legs. However, as my senses reactivated, so did the functions of my internal organs. And with them came hunger. A sharp pain gripped my empty stomach. My mouth went completely dry, my fetid breath reminding me that I had gone days, perhaps weeks, without eating or drinking anything. I realized with horror that I was dying of starvation. If I did not obtain food soon, my options would be reduced to two: go mad or die of hunger.

"I cannot die like this. Not after everything I've been through. There must be a way out of here, to survive. Think, Noah, think!"

Anger took hold of me when I thought of the man who had locked me here. What terrible crime had I committed to deserve such punishment? Although I knew I was not exactly a saint, I also did not believe I had done anything so atrocious as to justify this torment.

—What the hell did I do wrong? —I muttered with a hoarse voice from disuse.

No matter how much I thought about it, I could not find a satisfactory answer. In this cruel world, concepts like respect for others or human dignity made no sense. Still, however insignificant, I felt I did not deserve to be treated worse than an insect. At least not if I was to be considered a human being.

—Why? —I asked myself once more, frustration growing inside me—. Why do I have to suffer like this if I did nothing wrong?

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Could it be karma punishing me for the mistakes of my previous life? For having been a scum who valued nothing and no one?

I bit my lip so hard that the flesh tore. The metallic taste of blood flooded my mouth, warm against my parched tongue. That small reminder that I was still alive comforted me somehow.

Gradually, I regained control of my body. I could now open and close my fingers at will, and the sensation in my feet allowed me to slowly turn my ankles. Hunger remained unbearable, but I clung to the hope provided by being able to move again.

I know I will die of hunger if I do not get help soon, but the simple fact of being able to move my limbs gives me strength to keep fighting.

I clung to that tiny spark of hope like a shipwrecked man to a piece of wood in the middle of the ocean. I was aware that if I lost it, I would fall into an abyss of despair from which I could never escape.

Extreme hunger had sharpened all my senses. My nose caught smells I would have overlooked under normal circumstances: the humidity of the air, the mold growing on the walls. My ears perceived even the slightest sound, like the constant dripping of water filtering between the rocks.

"Water. What I need most now to survive is a simple sip of that vital liquid. I would be capable of selling my soul to the devil for a drink."

—Huh! —A rough groan escaped my cracked lips.

My mouth was as dry as a barren field, my lips stuck together. Each breath was agony, as if they were tearing my flesh. Still, I did not stop striving to fill my lungs with air. I no longer wanted to feel hunger or thirst. I concentrated all my energy on trying to turn over.

I struggled to transfer strength from my abdomen to my limbs. After so much time immobile, my muscles had atrophied and were as rigid as dry wood. Under different circumstances, I would have dedicated time to gradually reactivating them, but the urgency of my situation did not allow it. If I kept waiting, I would soon run out of strength. I had to move before it was too late.

A guttural growl, more befitting a beast than a man, resonated in the darkness as I gathered the last drop of energy I had left. My body trembled slightly, a sign that my efforts were beginning to bear fruit. Excitement grew inside me and, when it reached its peak, I released all that accumulated energy in an explosion.

—Kerhyuk! —I screamed hoarsely while my body rolled over itself.

I felt the cold stone floor against my chin and forehead. A shiver ran through me at that humid and cold sensation. After a moment to catch my breath, I began to desperately crawl towards the place where the sound of water was coming from.

I writhed like a snake, advancing centimeter by centimeter. My jaw scraped against the ground, leaving a trail of blood, but I did not stop. Time seemed to have stopped while I fought to reach my objective. Finally, after what seemed like an eternity, my forehead hit the rocky wall.

Disregarding the pain and the blood flowing from the wound, I stuck out my tongue and pressed it against the damp surface. A cool sensation flooded my taste buds. It was water! With desperation, I began to lick the liquid filtering through the wall. In the darkness, only the sound of my tongue licking eagerly could be heard, as if my life depended on it.

And so it was. That small trickle of water meant the difference between life and death for me. While quenching my thirst, a spark of determination ignited within me. I had survived until now, and I was not going to give up. I would find a way out of this hell, no matter the cost.

I continued drinking voraciously, feeling how each drop of water revitalized my battered body. As my thirst subsided, my mind began to clear. I started to think about my situation more rationally, trying to find a way out. I had survived until now, and I was not going to give up. I would find a way out of this hell, no matter the cost.

I woke with a growl, feeling a crushing heaviness on my body. Were my concerns weighing me down? Or perhaps that horrifying dream that always haunted me? Would my burdens, the expectations placed on me, be what weighed on me even while I slept? My mind wandered, stunned by sleep and confusion.

—Brother! Wake up!