My breaths were ragged and mixed with exhausted gasps. Each breath drawn more agonizing than the one before. I instinctively clenched my teeth, the metal pipe in my mouth preventing it. In response to even more pain, my hands wanted to ball into fists and my toes wanted to curl.

I regretted it instantly as a weak, muffled groan left my mouth. The nails in my hand and feet prevented it, pinning me to the wall.

To make matters worse, a sword was piercing my stomach. The wound was old and the surrounding tissue already started healing. Blood had stopped flowing long ago and the red puddle on the ground was nothing more than an old, dried up stain.

My body was weak, yet it was far from giving up on me. Instead, it was starting to get better and beginning to heal. The initial stabbing of a sword was painful, but it was even worse if it was pulled out after the flesh around it had already rebuild.

Normally, a wound wouldn’t heal if the weapon was still stuck, well, not for me.

In my time, I had seen many who could not endure and pleaded for death and hoped to find salvation in it. They had lived through hell, like me. Maybe theirs was worse, maybe it wasn’t. Truth is, they broke, they gave in to weakness and succumbed to despair.

A knight —unable to swing a sword after he had lost his arms— begging the very man, who deprived him of his reason of existence, for death.

A poet whose tongue was cut off, hanging himself with the chains that bound him. A priest unable to believe, seeking forgiveness in death. Countless tragedies happened inside this cave, many of which I witnessed.

All of the poor souls who were deprived of hope and suffered through horrendous torture. From the bottom of my heart, I loathed them, who did not manage to resist and surrendered to their tormentors.

Their tormentors who did nothing but laugh at the sorrow, grief and pain of those they tormented. Their tormentors, who found pleasure and enjoyment in their despair. How could they give them the fulfillment they sought.

My eyes burned with hatred as I watched them through the bars of the cell. I knew how powerless I was, but the frustration only added to my anger. I let these emotions run free, let them fuel my unmeasurable hatred.

After all, it was the hatred that helped me to preserve the little bit of sanity left in me.

In the end, I could do nothing but resent. I was unable to move, nor resist physically. The sole defiance of mine was my will and yet, here I was hoping that it would change something eventually.

My eyes fell on the back of a giant throne, built from the bones of the dead. The skull of a big wolf resting on the top of the back rest. The wolf was a creature that symbolized the hunt, displaying it as a trophy undoubtedly a sign of power and superiority.

Further beyond the throne, the ground slightly lowered and two long tables had been set up parallel to each other. Each were lined with various dishes and filled mugs.

Seated at the table were over a hundred men. Humans. A despicable and vile species that enjoyed to trample the weak and found pleasure in the suffering of others.

My nose crinkled in disgust as they devoured the fresh meat of a completed hunt. They behaved like beasts and enjoyed it, they were primitive and disgusting, yet they enjoyed the freedom I longed for.

They were celebrating, laughing and talking with each other completely aware of the misery I was living through at the moment. It was occasions like these, when I was allowed to see.

Normally, my eyes would be covered with a cloth drenched in my own blood.

Scum like them did not deserve to have fun or celebrate, but the world wasn’t fair. It was cruel and merciless.

The only person who did not partake in this foolishness was the single man sitting in the bone-grafted throne. He silently watched over his dogs as they fed.

I couldn’t see his face, but there was no doubt he was experiencing some fucked up sense of power. He was a sadistic asshole and the person, the monster, I despised the most.

As if noticing my glare, the man stood up and turned around, looking directly into my eyes. A twisted grin on his lips as he approached the door of my cell.

The man was dressed in nothing but a pair of pants. The few blood-free spots were the only proof that it was once brown. His upper body was painted crimson, a black skull etched into his chest with ink. His grey hair swayed slightly as he walked my way.

In his hands, he held the skull of a human with its scalp sawed off. It had been turned into a cup for this monster.

“Having fun?” The man asked mockingly.

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I felt my anger rising and I bit into the metal pipe. Unfortunately, my body also moved a little by doing so and the sword in my belly reminded me of its presence.

Fuck! That hurt.

“Really? Don’t do that, we both know it has no use. And try to look a little brighter, we have guests and it seems they have quite the interest for my mysterious pet,” he grinned.

That did little to calm me down, but I knew there was no use in showing hostility. It wasn’t like I could do anything.

My jaw eased and my teeth stopped pressing against the iron in my mouth. My breathing returned to a more regular rhythm.

Don’t let him get to you… You are fine… completely…fine.

Malik was the chieftain of this clan consisting of barbaric hunters and assholes. The earliest I remember was when Malik’s father had put me in these chains. At some point, he brought Malik around and let him do whatever he wanted.

While I despised Malik, I knew him since he was a small, weak little shit. Unfortunately, he had grown into a giant of a man with a known strength to his name. Oh, how I despised that he had not died yet.

Another man, I recognized him as a subordinate of Malik, called Rick. He was the closest aide of the chieftain. He was basically Malik's right hand and I bet he even wiped his ass. I glared at him.

“Chief, Igor and the Digo clan are already here. They are waiting.”

Malik grinned excitedly as he emptied the cup in his hands and handed it to Rick.

“Time for business, I guess.”

Malik and Rick walked back towards the throne. Their backs facing me.

These interactions became exhausting. Truthfully, as much as I told myself that I was enduring this and that I was doing fine. I could feel myself weakening. Not my body, but my mind. I deluded myself into thinking that I would enjoy seeing Malik die and I did, but not as much as I wished I would.

In the end, even if Malik died, nothing would really change. I won't be freed and I didn’t expect the torture to stop.

My lamenting was interrupted by a loud voice.

“Attention!” Malik yelled, shutting up the entire hall. The chatter stopped, the laughter died. No man made a single noise.

The only ones moving right now were Malik and Rick. The latter refilled the skull cup and handed it Malik, who after receiving it, raised it into the air.

“This banquet, as you all know, is held in celebration for the union of our clan, the Wen and the Digo. As such, we have invited the chieftain of the Digo, Igor. Welcome, my friend.”

A tall man with broad shoulders and thick arms stood up. His body was clad in different skins and furs, stitched together. His hair was long and red and he had a braided beard.

He raised his own cup, one forged from some shiny metal.

“It is my honor to feast in the great hall of Wen!” He shouted back.

“And to celebrate our alliance, I have brought some gifts for you. Chieftain Malik,” Igor said. A loud whistle caught my attention and I reflexively looked up. Soon after, the big door, the sole entrance of the hall, opened and a man entered. In his hand, he held onto a chain. Following the new man were four other humans, all of them bound to the chain.

There were two men and two women. The latter were a rare sight in these halls. Like all prisoners, the four of them didn't wear any clothes like other humans.

“The men were strong and put up a good fight. Hard to capture. I guarantee they make for a good hunt. The women…,” he trailed off.

“I thank you for your gift, Chieftain Igor. I am afraid I have nothing prepared in return,” Malik told him. I knew he didn't care about it. He would hand them over to Rick or one of his other dogs. Unfortunately, Malik only had eyes for me. In a negative way.

I pitied the four. They were of the same kind, yet they were treated as something lesser. Humans are truly horrible creatures after all.

They looked exhausted and sickly, however, their eyes did not belong to someone who had accepted their fate. These four still had hopes.

“Ah, yes. I don’t mind, of course. However, I must say, the one in that cell interests me greatly, maybe you could give her to me?” He licked his lips. A wave of disgust washed over me as the old man stared at me.

“So your gift comes with a price?” Malik asked.

“Ah, well, wouldn’t it… assure our alliance if we both gave each other a token of trust?”

“I do agree with what you are saying, however, you cannot have it. It is mine and mine alone,” Malik stated.

This statement gave me the creeps. This man's obsession was way too strong to simply give me away and I had mixed feelings about that.

Igor obviously didn’t like that answer and he raised his chin.

“So it is more important to you than our alliance?” He sneered.

The cup in Malik’s hand burst as he made a fist. His rage was obvious and I understood it well. He tried to break me since he was a little squirt. And now, this fool of a man tried to take that away. Knowing his temper, Malik’s next move was obvious.

“If you want it that much, then fight me. If you win, you shall have it,” he spoke through gritted teeth.

Igor laughed arrogantly.

“You want me to beat you up? Fine. If you wanted to give it to me for free anyways, why the fight?”

Oh, that must have pissed Malik off. He was a prideful one after all. Although I did wonder why he wanted to fight Igor. Igor was alone, while Malik had hundred of his men. Killing him was easy enough, but maybe that was some human thing. I expected him to just order his dogs to tear Igor apart, but he didn't.

Rick apparently had already taken the chain which held the four humans that Igor gifted Malik and now looked inquiringly at his chieftain. Malik noticed his aide and called out.

“Put them in her cell for now. We can relocate them later,” he said dismissing the issue, showing that he did not care for the gift of Igor. Igor glared at both, Rick and Malik.

Rick followed the order and fetched the key for my cell. The four didn’t give him a hard time and they followed him without resistance, which confused me.

Was I mistaken? Maybe their wills are already broken. It might be for the better. Crushed hopes often leave the deepest wounds, so they might have already lived through the worst.

After he opened the door successfully, he pushed the four one after the other inside. Once in, he locked the door behind them and left.

It was time for a duel and as such, Igor and Malik left the throne room with all the other clansmen in tow. Most of the were whispering in excitement, taking their mugs with them.

It was a fight between chieftains, even I was a little curious. I seriously couldn’t imagine Malik losing, but if he did, I would belong to that redheaded old man. On the other hand things would stay as is if Malik were to win. Both not really pleasant developments.

Anyway, I and my four new cellmates were left behind and had no other option but to wait for the results of the duel. At least, that’s what I thought.

As I would soon find out, my assessment of the four was quite wrong.