I didn’t dare move.

The cage was damp, and the stench of rot and sweat was thick in the air, sticking to the back of my throat. I could feel the grime on the floor soaking through my clothes, cold and slimy against my skin. The bars around me seemed to press closer with each breath, the rusted metal reeking of blood and something sharp and acrid, like it had soaked up the misery of everyone who had been here before me.

I kept my head down, and my shoulders hunched, but my eyes darted everywhere. There were three cages. Ours was cramped, packed with bodies that stank of despair, their whispers little more than broken prayers.

The second cage... I didn’t know what they were. Their shapes shifted in the firelight—too tall and thin, with limbs that didn’t move as they should. Some had too many eyes; others had none at all. They hissed and clicked softly to one another, the sound burrowing under my skin and making my stomach twist.

But it was the third cage that made me sick.

Beautiful. All of them. Skin so smooth it looked untouched by the filth around us. Hair that shimmered unnaturally, like it was made of silk and light. They sat perfectly still, their faces serene, but when one of them turned and locked eyes with me...

I froze.

It wasn’t human, the way they looked at me. It was like they could see straight through me—past my skin, my bones, into something raw and trembling inside. I yanked my gaze away, a cold sweat breaking out down my back.

Lyra sat beside me, her knees pulled up to her chest. I could feel her shoulder brushing mine, a faint warmth against the chill sinking into my bones. Her hands were clasped tightly together, her knuckles pale, but her face was unreadable.

“We can’t stay here,” I whispered, my voice barely audible. My throat was dry, the words scraping out like they didn’t belong to me.

She didn’t answer right away. Her head rested against the bars, her eyes fixed on the ground in front of her. When she finally spoke, her voice was low and steady, but something dark lingered beneath it.

“And what happens if we move?”

I opened my mouth, then shut it. I didn’t have an answer.

Lyra exhaled, long and slow. “Then don’t talk about it.”

Before I could respond, a sound broke the silence.

A woman’s voice.

It started soft, a whisper I barely noticed at first. The words rolled off her tongue like water, fluid and smooth, in a language I didn’t recognise. A prayer.

But it grew louder.

The words rose, carrying a trembling desperation that made my chest tighten. I turned my head slightly, enough to see her swaying where she sat, her hands clasped so tightly together they shook. Her voice cracked but didn’t stop, filling the air with a strange, haunting rhythm.

A shadow moved outside the cage.

My stomach dropped as a soldier stalked forward, his boots crunching against the dirt. He stopped in front of her, crouching low.

“Do not speak your devil’s tongue here,” he hissed.

The blade of his dagger caught the firelight as he brought it up, the point hovering just beneath her chin. She froze, her lips trembling, but the words still slipped out, barely audible now.

The man tilted his head, his lips curling into a sneer. “Before I take that pretty mouth of yours and show you that you’ve been abandoned.”

Her voice faltered, her prayer breaking into a soft whimper. Tears streaked her face, and she swayed harder, clutching her hands to her chest like they might shield her.

The soldier didn’t smile, but there was something almost eager in the way he reached through the bars. His fingers tangled in her hair, yanking her forward with brutal force. Her head slammed against the bars with a sickening crack, and blood smeared across the rusted metal as she cried out.

I clenched my fists, every muscle in my body screaming at me to do something, to stop him—but I couldn’t move. I couldn’t even breathe.

Her prayers had turned to sobs now, small and broken, as she trembled in his grasp.

He raised his dagger higher, the blade glinting.

Then, another hand grabbed his wrist.

The second soldier’s voice was lazy, almost amused. “You know you can’t afford to punish these.”

The first man hesitated, his grip tightening on the woman’s hair for one last moment before he let go. She crumpled to the floor, shaking violently.

The second soldier laughed under his breath. “Come. Haizer will replace you, and we shall have our fun.” His tone dripped with mockery, the kind that made my stomach churn.

The first man grunted, stepping back.

But the moment he moved, I felt it.

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The air shifted.

Heavy boots approached, slow and deliberate, each step sinking into the silence like a knife. The new figure stepped forward, his presence spreading through the camp like smoke.

The mask caught my attention first—smooth black, featureless except for the thin, needle-like etchings carved into its surface. The rest of him was draped in dark leather, the fabric blending into the shadows. When he moved, it was with a quiet purpose, the kind that made my skin crawl.

I swallowed hard, my pulse pounding in my ears.

Lyra stiffened beside me. Her nails dug into her arm, her breathing sharp and shallow.

“Don’t speak,” she muttered, her voice almost too low to hear. “Don’t look at him. Don’t do anything.”

I didn’t respond. I couldn’t.

I kept my head down, my body frozen, as the man in the mask passed by.

For the first time since they’d thrown me in this cage, I felt real fear.

The kind that clawed its way through my chest and settled deep in my gut.

And I knew, no matter how bad this night had been, the worst was just beginning.

Absolutely! Here’s the continuation in first person, maintaining the tension, psychological horror, and mystery while keeping everything immersive through Luell’s perspective.

We waited.

Time stretched, bleeding into itself, impossible to track. The fires outside the cages crackled, sending thin trails of smoke into the cold air. The sounds of the camp had dulled, but they were still there—distant laughter, the occasional clang of metal, the faint rustling of boots over dirt.

I sat stiffly, my back pressed against the bars, trying to steady my breathing. Lyra was silent beside me, her head tilted back, eyes barely open. But I could tell she wasn’t resting. No one in this place ever truly rested.

Then, something shifted.

The air changed. Thickened. My skin prickled.

A presence.

At first, I thought it was nothing—just the cold sinking deeper into my bones. But then I felt it, pressing at the edges of my skull, slithering its way inside.

I turned my head, and my stomach lurched.

One of them—the creatures from the first cage—had fixed its many eyes on me. I couldn't tell what it was looking like, not exactly. Some of its eyes weren’t even placed where they should be, scattered across its body like a twisted mosaic. But I felt it staring. Its mouth twitched slightly like it was smiling.

A pressure pushed into my mind.

I gasped.

Fire.

It roared to life in my skull, consuming everything. The sky bled red, thick with smoke, drowning out the stars. Bodies twisted in the flames, their screams piercing, their flesh curling like dry leaves. The heat was unbearable, suffocating, melting the air itself.

Something massive loomed in the smoke. A shadow, towering, shifting. It did not walk—it crawled, long fingers dragging through the dirt, through the blood, through the corpses. And above it all, there was laughter.

Not from the dying. Not from the soldiers.

Something else.

And then—

I was back.

I reeled backwards, slamming against the bars, gasping like I’d surfaced from drowning.

Lyra’s voice broke through the ringing in my ears.

“Luell?”

I turned toward her, my breath coming in short, sharp bursts. The fire was gone. The screaming was gone. But the scent—I could still smell it. Burnt flesh. Smoke. Blood. It clung to the inside of my nose, refusing to fade.

Before I could say anything, footsteps approached.

A shadow passed over me, and the guards snapped to attention. The other prisoners lowered their heads. I knew, without looking, that he had arrived.

The Captain.

His boots stopped in front of our cage. Slowly, I forced myself to look up.

He was tall, his uniform untouched by the filth around us, like the dirt itself refused to stain him. A scar curved along his jaw, barely disrupting the sharpness of his face. But it was his eyes that caught me—cold, dark, like a man who had looked into a void and decided to climb inside.

He studied us the way a butcher might inspect a cut of meat. When his gaze landed on me, he lingered.

“Something troubling you, boy?”

My mouth was dry. The words spilled out before I could stop them.

“The fire.” My voice barely sounded like mine. “The blood.”

His expression didn’t change, but I caught the flicker of something in his gaze.

“What?”

I swallowed hard, trying to steady myself. “I—I saw…” I didn’t want to say it. It felt insane. But the vision still burned behind my eyelids. “The camp. Burning. Screaming. Something’s coming for you.”

Lyra stiffened beside me. “What are you talking about?”

I didn’t answer. I couldn’t.

The Captain tilted his head slightly, watching me. Then, after a pause—he smiled. It wasn’t warm. It wasn’t kind.

“A prophecy?” he murmured. There was amusement in his voice, but something else lurked beneath it. His eyes flicked toward the first cage, then back to me.

“Interesting.”

He took a step closer, gripping the bars with one hand. “Since you’re feeling curious, why don’t I enlighten you?” His voice was smooth, almost pleasant, but it carried a weight that made my skin crawl.

He gestured toward the cages. “You wonder why we separate you, don’t you?”

I glanced at Lyra. She didn’t speak, but her jaw tightened.

The Captain motioned toward the first cage. “These creatures—beasts—are simple. They do not think as we do. They do not dream of escape, nor do they hope. They hunger. They kill. They destroy.” His lips curled slightly. “A bit like men. But without the pretence.”

Then he turned to the second cage. “And these?” His tone shifted, carrying something almost reverent. “They are perfection. Divine. So beautiful that men beg for them, bleed for them, kill for them.” His voice dropped to something almost conspiratorial. “They fetch the highest price, of course. But like fine wine, they are meant to be savoured—brought out for special occasions, displayed for guests.”

His gaze finally landed on us.

“And you.”

My stomach twisted.

He smirked. “You fill the gap between the two. Not beasts. Not divine. But beautiful enough in your way, in the ways that please the lesser appetites.” He shrugged. “A man does not dine only on the finest meals. He must have a simpler fare for everyday consumption.”

Lyra’s hands curled into fists. “So, we’re slaves.”

The Captain laughed. A low, rich sound, like she had told a joke.

“No.” The amusement in his voice faded into something colder. He leaned in slightly. “Slaves are promised freedom, even if it is a lie.” His eyes gleamed in the firelight.

“You are property.”

The words settled over me like chains.

“There is no life outside of this,” he continued. “No hope. No future. You exist for us. Nothing more.”

Silence.

I clenched my teeth so hard my jaw ached.

Lyra’s voice was sharp. “Why?” She met his gaze, fury burning in her eyes. “Why do you do this? You’re supposed to be soldiers.”

The Captain chuckled again, shaking his head. “Ah. That’s your mistake.”

He straightened, taking a step back, the smirk still lingering on his lips. “You mistake duty for honour,” he mused. “And honour for righteousness.”

He turned slightly, as if ready to leave. But then, he glanced over his shoulder—right at me.

“But tell me, boy.” His voice was smooth and measured. “If you saw the flames, the blood…”

His eyes glinted.

“…Did you see who started it?”

The breath caught in my throat.

I hadn’t.

The Captain smiled like he already knew the answer. Then, without another word, he turned and walked away, his boots crunching against the dirt.

I stayed frozen, my pulse thundering in my ears.

The fire still lingered in my mind, but now—

Now, I wasn’t sure if I had seen a warning.

Or something worse.