The bruises were setting in.
Hannah flexed her fingers, biting back a hiss as sharp pain flared through her knuckles. The rough earth beneath her felt unforgiving, her limbs sagged heavy from exhaustion as she sat with her back against the cold stone wall. Around her, the others lay scattered in similar states—some collapsed in quiet agony, others rubbing sore muscles in silence. No one spoke, but the weight of days of training hung thick between them.
The room was cramped, bare but for the rough stone walls and the flickering light of a single lantern hanging from the ceiling. The floor was a patchwork of dirt and grime, stained in spots from the relentless sweat of bodies that had once filled the room. The air hung heavy with the sour smell of sweat and the faintest trace of something metallic, like blood mixed with iron, seeping into the damp stone. Every breath felt thick, like it was soaked in the weight of their misery.
Hannah shifted uncomfortably, trying to ease the dull ache in her spine. The place had become all too familiar, but it still felt like a cage. They weren’t allowed to leave the small room unless instructed. There was no ventilation to offer relief from the stifling atmosphere, no way to drown out the faint echo of murmured prayers that drifted in from the other rooms, as the other children began their daily ritual.
The walls were bare save for a few scratched-out symbols and crude carvings, some of which seemed to have been added over time by the children who had come and gone, their presence now etched in the stone, a silent testament to lives worn thin.
Rough-hewn wooden shelves lined one side of the room, cluttered with various supplies—cleaning rags, half-filled jugs of water, and crates of what looked like dried fruit or moldy bread. At one end of the room, a large stone basin was piled high with laundry. A single, rusted bucket stood nearby, filled with dirty water, and the floor was streaked with the residue of cleaning chemicals and grime. It was the kind of place that felt as though it had been abandoned long ago, repurposed for something darker.
Every morning followed the same oppressive routine. First, there was the morning prayer. The children didn’t speak it aloud, but they murmured it quietly under their breath, their words blending together in an eerie rhythm. Hannah had learned it by heart by now, though it was hard to keep the meaning in focus. The language was unfamiliar, and the chanting sounded like something ancient, older than the gods they were supposed to worship. But nobody dared to question it.
After the prayer, there was the drink.
A bowl of something vile had been placed in front of her. As usual, it tasted bitter—rotten and metallic—like all the others. It burned the back of her throat as it slid down, thick and cloying, filling her mouth with a taste that was far from natural. At first, she tried to refuse it, but the guard had given her a long look, his eyes narrowing in silent warning. She could feel the weight of his gaze even now, like a shadow over her thoughts. She knew what would come if she defied him, and so, reluctantly, she swallowed the foul concoction, the taste lingering like poison in her mouth. It was always the same.
‘Everybody drinks it,’ an older kid, who had been here before they arrived had said when Hannah asked. ‘Doesn’t matter how bad it tastes. You can’t survive without it.’
Hannah hadn’t asked any more questions after that. What could she do but endure?
The room echoed with the sound of the others drinking their portion, the collective shudder of bodies as the liquid burned down their throats. The familiar taste, the act of choking it down, was as much a part of the daily routine as the drills themselves. Sometimes it felt like their bodies had grown accustomed to theconcotion, their stomachs no longer rebelling against it. It was just another part of the process.
The silence stretched between them, punctuated only by the faintest sound of someone shifting their weight, or the occasional cough.
Hannah glanced over at Ellie, who was sitting cross-legged across the room, absently wiping at the dried sweat on her face. Her eyes met Hannah’s for a moment, a silent understanding passing between them. Neither of them knew what the drink was, or why it was necessary, but they didn’t question it anymore. There were too many things they couldn’t control. This was just one more.
The mornings felt the longest, stretched thin with the monotony of it all. The prayer, the drink, the grinding ache in their muscles that didn’t seem to subside. Every day bled into the next, no more meaningful than the last, just a haze of exhaustion and survival. But they had learned to move through it—quietly, with little more than whispered words between them, and the occasional look that spoke volumes.
Hannah closed her eyes for a moment, resting her head against the wall. She didn’t know what today would bring. But whatever it was, it would likely be more of the same. A test. Another way to break them down without breaking them completely. Another reminder that they were nothing more than tools in a twisted game.
As Hannah lay still, she overheard snippets of hushed conversation between the older kids in the corner. It was the first time she’d seen them, as they looked like they’d been there much longer than the rest of us, their faces holding constant gaunt expressions. Speaking in whispers, their words were crisp, like sharp shadows in the quiet night. ′I swear, I saw someone leave in the middle of the night. One of the older boys... just walked out of the gate like he was sleepwalking. I don’t think he ever came back.′ One girl snorted, shaking her head. ′You’re just imagining things. People talk about escape all the time. It’s just nightmares.′
But another kid, his voice shaky, added, ‘No, it’s not. I saw the bloodstains on his pillow. Red as the moon.’
A nervous chuckle rippled through the group, but no one dared to speak louder. They were afraid. Afraid of what was happening in the dark corners of the complex.
‘It’s the goddess,’ a soft voice murmured. ’She’s watching over us. The blood... it’s her way of cleansing us.’
Hannah froze for a moment. She didn’t believe in the goddess. Not really. But hearing them talk like this, so seriously, made her feel as if the walls were closing in. What were they doing to them here?
She glanced at a group in the far corner, observing as they huddled together, their voices low but urgent. A boisterous voice echoed in the room frequently, much to the unease of those around him. The leader who had run ahead of everyone yesterday had already started to pull a tight circle of followers around him. His confidence radiated like a beacon, daring anyone to question him.
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A dull thud echoed from the far end of the room—one of the children had dropped to their knees, clutching their side. Hannah winced. They’re pushing us too far. The thought came unbidden, creeping into the forefront of her mind as she looked over her own bruises. Her stomach churned, a nauseating blend of hunger and dread twisting within her.
“Hey,” a voice hissed nearby.
Hannah’s eyes snapped to the side. Ellie, small and wiry, slid down beside her. Her face was pale, eyes wide with the kind of fear that clung to all of them. “They’re watching us, aren’t they?” Hannah didn’t have to ask who “they” were. The feeling had been gnawing at her all evening. An itch at the back of her neck. A presence just out of sight. She shifted her gaze toward the door, where the flickering shadows seemed to stretch a little too far into the room, as if waiting for something.
Before she could respond, the loud clunk of footsteps echoed down the hall. The other group fell silent. The leader—tall, eyes cold—stood and strode forward, cutting through the space like a blade. His eyes met hers, eyes narrowing. The sound of scurried footsteps accompanied him as his small group followed in his wake.
His blunt way of speaking and his skill in the running drills they’d been having every day had proved his own competence, garnering himself his own following. A taller, lanky boy with seedy eyes and a hooked nose remained by Dax’s side at every moment. His name was…Karl? K-something or other. Hannah couldn’t remember.
Hannah was snapped out of her reveries when she found herself being confronted by Dax.
“You’re the one who drank the chalice, right?” His voice carried a note of challenge, more accusation than question. Hannah gave a curt nod, brows furrowing upon noticing Ellie had started shifting nervously. The boy straightened, his lips twisting into a smirk.
“The name’s Dax, I could use someone like you in my circle” he said, voice dripping with expectation. He barely glanced at the others, as if they were nothing more than background noise. “Confident, you’re useful. Like my buddy Kai over here”. At the mention of Kai, that’s what it was, the lanky boy glowed with pride, before being quickly elbowed sharply by another one of Dax’s followers, causing the boy’s face to contort in pain.
Hannah didn’t need time to think, she hadn’t known Ellie and the other’s for long but they had given her something Dax didn’t care for, comfort in the middle of this living hell.
But this guy? His arrogance reeked from a mile away.
Hannah gave a firm smile and met his gaze, “I’ve got all the company I need, thanks” gesturing to the familiar faces around her.
For a moment, Dax’s smirk faltered. His eyes darkened, and before Hannah could blink, he lunged at her, grabbing the front of her shirt and yanking her up off the ground. The force of it sent a sharp sting through her ribs as her back slammed against the wall.
“You think you can talk to me like that?” he glowered, his face inches from hers. Tension rippled through his arms. “You’ve got no idea who you’re dealing with.”
Hannah forced her expression as blank as she could muster. She would not give him the satisfaction of seeing her falter.
The room fell silent, all eyes locked on them. The air buzzed with tension, thick and suffocating. Across the room, Zephyr blinked, his usual easy-going demeanour faltering for the first time. “Whoa, what the—” he muttered, visibly taken aback by the speed and intensity of Dax’s attack. Meanwhile Atlas, standing beside Zephyr felt himself clench his fists so tightly his skin whitened. His jaw was locked, and his glare burned holes into Dax’s back. As his fists trembled, the sheer force left angry red welts on his palms, deepening to bruises with every passing second, but he didn’t release them.
Zephyr grabbed Atlas’ arm hurriedly in an attempt to reach there when a firm voice resounded through the room, cutting through the tension like a knife. “Dax,” Nia stepped forward, her face set in a cold mask of calm. “Let her go. Now.” Dax looked affronted at the suggestion his eyes widening at the disrespect, when Nia’s eyes shifted from him, to the guards standing watch at the end of each hall. For a moment, Dax looked like he might resist, his jaw clenched tight. But then, as the weight of the guards’ gaze bore down on him, he released Hannah, shoving her back against the wall with a sneer.
Hannah didn’t flinch. Instead, she leaned in close, just enough that her breath brushed his ear, and whispered, “You want to keep your golden boy status, don’t you?” Dax’s eyes flashed with something unreadable before he turned sharply, his small group falling into step behind him.
After Dax stalked off, tension emanated from his every step. But for now, he was done. Hannah exhaled slowly. Her chest was still tight, but a small, satisfied smile tugged at her lips. Zephyr took a long look at the lingering eyes on them and rolled up his sleeves, showing off his bruised knuckles in the process, “What’re you all lookin at?” he chided, “Get back to it.” Atlas added seamlessly, exhibiting a glare that made most kids turn their heads away immediately.
The soft murmurs of conversation returned quickly, but the unease still hung in the air. Shifty glances were shot in Dax’s and Hannah’s directions. It felt as if all eyes were on her. Ellie, who had been watching everything with wide eyes, let out a shaky breath. “I can’t believe he backed off,” she muttered, her voice low and unsteady. She glanced sideways at Hannah, her fingers fidgeting with the hem of her shirt. “You really weren’t scared of him?”
Hannah’s features softened. Of course Ellie was worried about her. “A little,” she answered honestly, “but nothing I can’t handle.” She ruffled Ellie’s hair affectionately before moving away from the wall, adjusting her shirt as she sat down.
Turning to look at her friends, Hannah found herself met with worried faces. Atlas’s fists slowly unclenched, dark bruises already blooming against his skin. “What was that guy’s problem?” he muttered.
“That idiot definitely has a screw loose,” affirmed Zephyr, whose tell-tale nonchalant smile was left nowhere to be seen.
“You’re not wrong there,” Nia chimed in, letting out a breath she hadn’t realised she was holding. The earlier rage simmered within her, causing the tension to leave her body as she crumpled to the ground next to Hannah. After taking a moment for herself, she looked over at Hannah. “How are you feeling?”
Hannah allowed herself a wry chuckle. “We’re already battered from training; a couple extra ones don’t make much of a difference.” Her voice softened as she added, “Thank you, though, for standing up for me.”
Nia simply smiled, her eyes lowering to the ground as she drew her body inward. Zephyr piped up, “Didn’t know you had it in you,” he quipped, a smirk creeping back into its rightful place.
“I didn’t either,” Nia replied under her breath.
Zephyr looked over at Hannah, his grin widening. “Didn’t know you were into stirring up trouble,” he teased, attempting to lighten the mood. Zephyr chuckled, shaking his head. “Just wait until Dax realises he messed with the wrong girl. I can see it now—he’ll be too busy nursing his bruised ego to bother us again.”
Nia snorted softly, and even Hannah felt a flicker of amusement at the image. But beneath it all, a sense of uncertainty lingered in the air. The room was still charged with unspoken fears, a reminder that while they had momentarily triumphed, their situation was far from secure.
Hannah’s smile faltered slightly as she glanced around at her friends. They looked weary but determined, each lost in their own thoughts.
“I don’t like him,” Atlas muttered, his fists still tense at his sides.
“Same here,” Ellie added, her voice quiet but firm.
A brief silence fell, their eyes meeting in shared understanding. They didn’t need to say more.
As the soft murmurs of conversation picked up again, Hannah leaned back against the cold stone wall, her heart still racing from the encounter. She closed her eyes for a moment, feeling the warmth of her friends beside her—a fleeting sense of safety in their shared strength.
But as the shadows danced in the corners of the room, Hannah couldn’t shake the feeling that this was only the beginning of something much darker.
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Hi!!! Author here, I named this chapter with the song everybody talks by Neon Trees because it's always stuck in my head!