POV Aria
As the flames consumed what was left of our village, the bodies of the deceased lay scattered on the ground, silent witnesses to the tragedy that had just unfolded. We, the survivors, were gathered and locked in cages, treated not as human beings, but as mere beasts or monsters. The nearest town was about a year's journey away, a long and grueling ordeal ahead.
I saw the downcast faces of the women who had lost their husbands, the children orphaned of their fathers, all marked by the humiliation and anticipated pain of a life of slavery where we would be reduced to the state of objects, usable and replaceable at will.
As we were corralled like cattle, I couldn't help but wonder how they had managed to discover our refuge. Had they undertaken a long journey just to capture us? These questions swirled in my mind, unanswered. Téilo and other children, along with a few adults, were missing—they had managed to escape capture. Despite the despair of my own situation, I felt a bitter relief that some of us had been able to flee.
Two weeks had passed since our forced departure, and hunger had begun to torment us deeply. Our empty stomachs cried out for food while our cages, now our unsanitary jails, were soaked with a nauseating stench. Prisoners in these narrow confinements, we had no choice but to relieve ourselves where we were. The air was thick with the smell of human decay, while we received just enough to keep us alive, but not enough to quell our hunger.
After two months of this ordeal, the harsh conditions began to take their toll. The bodies of those who didn't survive piled up, silently testifying to the inhumanity of our captivity.
The smell of decomposing bodies intensified each day, becoming almost unbearable. Flies, attracted by the odor, laid their eggs, initiating a macabre cycle. A few days later, the corpses began to swarm with maggots, emerging from the ears, eyes, and mouths of the dead, a horrifying sight that deepened our despair.
As decomposition advanced, the smell became so powerful that the air felt heavy and toxic. We could see the maggots devouring the innards, leaving the remains even more unrecognizable. Disease and malnutrition then took their cruel toll, claiming the lives of some children and women, the most vulnerable among us. Starvation gnawed at my empty stomach, each day a struggle against pain and weakness.
When someone succumbed, the emotion of mourning was a luxury our dehydrated bodies could no longer afford. Yet, amid this unimaginable suffering, a flame still burned within me: the will to survive, the desire for vengeance for all we had endured. It was this strength that kept me alive, a burning desire to one day see justice triumph.
Skills obtained:
As I obtained these skills, my mind cleared. I regained some lucidity.
"My hatred and will to live have been heard by whom, by that miserable goddess?" I said through gritted teeth.
After eight long months of an exhausting journey, the convoy finally stopped. Through the bars of my cage, I watched the men bustling around a camp, where a gigantic portal stood. My heart leapt in my chest when I understood how they had managed to cover such a distance: a newly installed teleportation gate served as a relay. However, this still didn't answer the burning question of how they had discovered our isolated village.
We finally passed through this teleportation portal, which transported us directly to Attal, the capital of the kingdom of Sigma. Upon our arrival, we were treated as the merchandise we had become, sold as slaves in a market that didn't acknowledge our lives. During this transaction, the pain of separation added to the horror of our situation: I was torn from my mother, our gazes crossing for the last time, filled with despair.
This tale has been pilfered from Royal Road. If found on Amazon, kindly file a report.
The toll of the journey was grim: 25% of us hadn't survived those ten months of horrors. Each life lost was an additional scar on my heart, each absence a reminder of the cruelty of our fate. Yet, despite the pain and loss, the flame of resistance and the desire for justice continued to burn within me. I was no longer fighting just to survive, but to avenge every soul unjustly taken.
We were lined up, me and other girls from my village, exposed in the crowded street like mere commodities. Passersby stopped to stare at us, evaluating us critically as if choosing items at a market stall. The humiliation of this public exposure was almost unbearable.
As each of my friends was sold one by one, my turn finally came. A man approached, his scrutinizing gaze sweeping over me from head to toe.
"How much for this girl?" he asked with a coldness that made me shiver.
"She's a rare half-human with white fur, she costs 10 gold coins." (Vengus)
"That's a bit expensive." (Man)
"Indeed, but all these young girls are virgins." the Vengus said slyly.
Learning this information, the man smiled, licking his lips.
"Very well, I'll take her," he said, handing over the gold coins.
My ordeal only intensified after the sale. The man who had bought me had me washed hastily, a cold gesture meant only to make me presentable for his purposes. Once clean, I was taken to his home. Upon arrival, I was led to a small, austere, sparsely furnished room. There, my wrists were bound to prevent resistance. Each movement was a struggle, each breath a reminder of my loss of freedom. I was treated not as a human being, but as property, an object to be secured.
"Oh, don't worry, I'll take good care of you and maybe you'll even come to like it." he said with a sinister smile.
As I struggled uselessly with all my strength, the man stripped me, nearly tearing my clothes off. As I fought to free myself, I managed to land several vigorous kicks. This triggered a furious rage in my attacker. His facial features twisted with anger, he began to hit me with increased violence, his blows precise and ruthless.
"You fucking bitch, you dared to hit your master!" he screamed in fury.
Each blow he dealt resonated with terrifying force, releasing floods of blood that splattered, slowly but inexorably staining the once pristine white sheets around us. The dull sound of each impact blended with the searing pain coursing through my body. The sight of the intense red of my own blood forming sinister patterns on the brilliant whiteness of the linen created a shocking, almost surreal contrast. My ragged breathing and the buzzing in my ears amplified the horror of the scene, making each moment more oppressive.
"Stop it, please..." (Aria)
As I begged him, my voice broken by pain and tears, to stop, he seemed to find perverse pleasure in my desperate pleas. His response was to increase the strength of his blows, each hitting with greater brutality, as if my distress gave him more power. The bed, already stained with the splashes of my blood, became the theater of an increasingly terrifying scene, each stain a testament to the violence endured.
"That's right, learn your place!" he smiled sadistically.
In a final act of violence, he crossed the last barrier of my intimacy, tearing away what was most personal to me. Tearing away the last innocent threads of my childhood, as a sharp pain shot through me, marking indelibly the loss of my virginity under the force of his ruthless actions. The man was raping me with an indifference that amplified the horror of the act.
"Ahhhh. It hurts... It hurts.... Please...." (Aria)
None of my heart-wrenching cries or desperate pleas for help found an echo; the walls seemed to absorb every sound. And who, anyway, would have heard? Who would have come to my aid? When it was all over, the bed I had been laid on bore the indelible marks of the assault: the once pristine sheets were now stained with a vivid red, witnesses to the inhuman act endured.
During those four long years, I endured unimaginable violence, subjected to rapes against my will, often committed by multiple attackers simultaneously. He delighted in torturing me, savoring each trace of pain that appeared on my face. The beatings, the burns, the deep cuts, and the strangling attempts marked a daily life turned into hell. I fought desperately for each breath, while my mind tried to shield itself behind a veil of dissociation.
This endless ordeal, which stretched over four years, gradually dehumanized me, transforming me into an object of suffering, emptied of all personal essence. It reduced me to an object, something I had fiercely refused to assimilate with.
One day, while I was on the street, an unexpected event occurred. A handsome young man with intense red eyes approached to offer me his help. However, his public intervention risked putting him in even greater danger. With a trembling but firm voice, I pretended that everything was fine, dissuading him from continuing. No sooner had he walked away than I found myself again under assault, beaten with renewed brutality by my attacker, in retaliation for that brief moment of hope.
I was eventually freed from my precarious situation by another man, and by a twist of fate, I found myself alongside the same young man with red eyes. That day, under a sky scattered with stars, he promised to do everything in his power to improve the condition of the demi-humans. As he held me in his arms, I felt the comforting warmth of his body, a poignant contrast to the cold of my painful memories. Lost in the moment, I couldn't tear my gaze away from his glowing red eyes, which shone with a mysterious and magnificent brilliance in the starry night.