Dozia bolted upright from her seat, her eyes wide as she took in her strange surroundings. Her breath came in heavy gasps, sweat beading on her forehead. She scanned her surroundings frantically, searching for him. And then, a familiar voice, soft and reassuring, cut through the fear. "Dozia, it's fine... I'm here."

Oliver was kneeling beside her, and she felt a wave of relief wash over her. "Good, you're safe," she said, her lips slowly relaxing as her breath steadied. But then, a sharp pain shot through the back of her head, and she groaned, grimacing as she struggled to get her bearings. They were in a cage, and the sun was setting. How long had she been out?

She took a deep breath, pushing back her fear and focusing on the situation at hand. They were deep in the plains, surrounded by trees and mountains. They weren't far from their original camp, and they seemed to be the slavers' only haul for the day. Her friends were with her, except for Lena's sister. The slavers were most likely from the human empire, and there were probably between five and ten of them.

"Dozia, do you think Lena can break these bars?" James asked, his elvish ears casting a dark shadow on his face. Dozia nodded, her mind racing as she tried to come up with a plan. "Lena, give it a try," she said, her fingers clasping the iron bars of the cage. Lena flexed her fingers, gripping the metal bars tightly. The iron groaned and screeched as she applied pressure, slowly bending under her weight.

"Wait, it's working," James exclaimed, hope flickering in his voice. But Dozia shook her head, her eyes scanning the camp for any signs of danger. "Not yet," she said firmly. They couldn't risk drawing attention to themselves. They needed a plan, a way to escape without getting caught. And she was determined to find one.

Lena released her grip, and everyone could see the imprint of her strength on the bars. They were nearly rended in two. James asked, "Why did you stop? We were nearly..."

"Don't be an idiot," Dozia lectured. "If Lena continued, the whole damn camp would've heard us. You want them to cut off her arms?"

Taken aback, James gave a muffled "no." "Rasmus, you're a dwarf," he said. "Can you try and analyze these bars to find any hint of what type of metal they are?"

"What's metal have to do with it?" questioned Oliver.

"Dozia's blood still has magic that flows through it," Lena explained. "Meaning that we can utilize her flame magic to try and destroy the bars, but Rasmus needs to find a weak point within the metal."

Rasmus kneeled, his oversized hands going along the metal. His eyes dazzled as he struck it with the edge of his finger, hearing the ringing go along his ear as he tried to pinpoint something. "I don't know. This isn't iron or steel. Possibly mixed forged with something else. I am going to need more time..."

"Get up!" Lena hissed.

Dozia and James gripped their friend, wrenching him up and away as they heard the pounding of two pairs of footsteps approaching. Two men, each around similar heights and builds, wearing padded leather armor.

They could've looked nearly identical, except for the taller one having a full set of hair and a beard, brandishing a sword along his back contained within his scabbard. While the other on his left bore a primitive spear, this one having a balding head.

"Alright, the whole lot of you, get up, we're doing roll call," the sword-armored warrior spoke, his eyes going towards each of the occupants. The younger ones crouched and herded along the edges of the cage in fear, Ben being one of them, while the other older members of the lost ones stood straight and proud, peering at the slaver. "We're going to ask for your names, your race, and if you hold any level of status within your tribe..."

"And don't lie," the bald man spoke, a sickly yellow smirk darting along his face. "I am one of the many descendants of the Great Imposter Judge Arizonia. Not a lie shall leave your mouths, or you shall seek to regret it."

With those words, his eyes darted to a lighter brown, slightly pulsing as they gazed along the occupants within the cage. "An imposter's descendant," Lena grimaced, Oliver turning around to hear the strange words enter his ear.

They started with the little ones first. The demi-humans stated their name and their race, only to stutter as they were confused by the "status" question the man spoke of.

"It means what sort of role do you play in your tribe. Are you a descendant of your leader, are you the chieftain, what sort of role do you have within your group?" the descendant spoke.

The younger ones answered their questions honestly, setting the stage for Oliver to step up and reveal his identity. And as he rose from his seat and walked towards the edge of the cage, a chill ran down his spine. The imposter descendant was staring at him with a strange intensity, and Oliver could feel a coldness warping around him like a hug.

“My name is Oliver Windsor,” he muttered slowly, his voice barely above a whisper. “Human.”

The bearded man, Brad, looked at Oliver with wide eyes. "Human?" he repeated, incredulous. "You're not a half-human... or a quarter demi?"

Oliver shook his head. "No, I am fully human. I have no demi-human descendants or anything like that. I was born to two human parents."

The descendant nodded, his eyes streaking with a light afterimage of a dark yellow. "He's not lying, Brad. I can feel it. The boy's telling the truth."

But Brad wasn't convinced. His fingers went towards his belt, the jangle of keys audible as he slid them into the door. The action caused everyone in the group to stutter.

"Anyone tries to leave as I open this," Brad spoke, the grating of the cell door parting as Oliver stared ahead towards the expanse. "I'll kill you myself."

Brad grabbed Oliver's hand before the young boy could react, pulling him along as they stepped out onto the fresh grass. Oliver snapped his head behind them, seeing James's eyes widen with shock, his arms lunging to the bars as the door was once again reclosed.

"What are you doing, Brad?" the bald man spoke, whirling towards him. "The boy may be human, but what was he doing out there with these Demis?"

Brad shook his head slowly, his eyes narrowing. "Isn't it obvious? The demi-human tribes are known to kidnap and raid our caravans. The kid probably got mixed up with them."

He grimaced. "We don't know how long he's been out there for. How do we know there isn't loyalty he has with them?"

Brad let go of Oliver's hand, taking a knee so he could be on equal level with the young boy. "Listen, kid," he turned around to the cage. "However long these savages have held you captive for, whatever your answer... I will still take you back to the capital. You're a human like us, and I won't--"

"Brad, what are you doing?"

"Can it!" Brad snapped, his voice rising as the bald man took a step back. "I'm not like these filthy Demis. I won't turn my back on my own race like they did all those years ago."

His words dripped with bile and malice, and Oliver couldn't help but notice the shame that littered the faces of the Lost Ones inside the cage. Even Dozia, who had rescued him, treated him, and fed him, didn't look up.

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Oliver turned his head back to Brad, his heart beating along his chest like a harsh orchestra. He didn't know what to say. The Lost Ones were a tribe of demi-human children all around his age or even younger. Dozia had welcomed him into their tribe and didn't even care if he was human...

Brad and the rest of these people wouldn't care about that. But he couldn't tell them the truth. If he did, he would be sold into slavery. His mind went haywire, imagining the type of horrors he could expect...a fate worse than death. What could be done?

Should he stay loyal to the people that saved him, people he had only known for a day? Or should he willingly send them to sinister fates, to backstab them and to toss away any sort of loyalty he held for them?

Before he could even answer, he heard voices. Rasmus, the young dwarf, rose with his large hands coiled along the bars of metal. His mouth gnashed as his white teeth reflected along the orange glow of the sun.

"Why are you asking him?" Rasmus jested. "We found him deep within the wilderness, his brain was all scrambled...honestly, we were planning on selling him to one of those demi-human tribes. The White Fang tribe likes the taste of humans, I heard."

Oliver's eyes snapped open, his head turning towards Rasmus. Wait, no. That's not true...they weren't planning on selling him. Dozia would...

But his thoughts were interrupted by Lena's voice. "Yeah, we chained him to a bed and everything. Honestly, the smell of humans disgusts me," she said, rising her pawed finger at Oliver's chest. "We should've just killed him when we had the chance!"

Brad rose from his kneel, his boots crunching along the grass as he approached. Why were they saying these things?

Oliver looked around, the other younger members of the tribe and James looked upon their friends as they spoke. Even he was confused. Dozia rose from her seat. "Yeah, the kid's disgusting. We could've easily gotten a couple of iron pieces for him."

But that was when Oliver saw it: the faint wink of Dozia's eye as she quickly nodded her head. Wait, there...lying?

He felt queasy. They were lying for him, trying to save him from the same fate that awaited him. A human, one that they knew for less than a day...a couple of hours at best. They were willingly lying for him, even if their consequences increased.

They were trying to make up a story that sounded credible. Instead of the truth, they were trying to depict themselves as a hostile savage tribe to make Oliver sound like a poor and defenseless boy, who had been captured by them.

Brad swung his fist through one of the openings. Rasmus was too slow to dodge, and his head kicked back, his legs rapidly clinging along the cage floor as he fell butt first. A groan rose from his lips as a dejected bloodied tooth fell from his mouth. "Rasmus!" they screamed as they crowded along the young dwarf.

"Disgusting. You dwarfs used to be one of humanity's greatest allies," Brad said, taking a handkerchief from his pocket and wiping the tendrils of blood from his knuckles. "But now you're nothing. Losing your magic and your innate craft surely made you damn Demi's nearly pitiful to even hit."

Oliver was stunned into silence, hardly registering as Brad took his hand again. His eyes remained fixed on the cage where his former tribe, the lost ones, were trying to comfort Rasmus. Brad promised to get him a tent and find him a relative to stay with, but Oliver was lost in his thoughts, watching as Dozia's mouth moved and his eyes began to water.

"Live..." Dozia's final gift, her sacrifice to save Oliver from the same fate that awaited them all. He had disappeared into the sea of tents, leaving Rasmus behind with his head down and his body shaking. The lost ones gathered around him, forgetting for a moment that he was just a thirteen-year-old boy.

Lena's hands were wrapped tightly around Rasmus, trying to ease his pain. Dozia rose from her seat and her hands looped along the cage, slowly being consumed by the darkness of the night. "It's good that at least Oliver was able to escape," she said, her words flying freely. Her devotion to Oliver was understandable to some, but others were beginning to grow tired of her overzealous nature.

James lunged forward, tears still streaming down his face as Dozia's head snapped back. He felt the weight of James' fingers wrap around her throat, and the lost ones heard the rattling of the bars as Lena screamed out his name. Dozia instinctively pulled her legs towards herself and kicked James away, sending him and Lena falling backwards.

Even as he snapped and snarled like a rabid animal, Lena's arms remained around him. "Calm down...what's wrong with you!" she pleaded with him.

"What's wrong with me!" James shouted back. "Don't you all understand what's going to happen to us? Dozia worships this human, but he's just a boy. Why should we be happy that he gets to live a life, when we'll be lucky to be sold as simple slaves or servants?"

The lost ones looked at James in shock and fear, realizing that he was right. They had been captured and taken from their homes, and now they were being treated like property to be bought and sold. Oliver could sense their despair and fear, and he knew that he had to find a way to help them. He had escaped the same fate that awaited them, but he couldn't leave his former tribe to suffer alone.

As the night grew darker, Oliver made a vow to himself that he would do whatever it takes to help the lost ones. He would find a way to free them from their captivity and help them find their way back home. The darkness couldn't consume their hope, not when he was there to light the way.

Lena, Dozia, and Rasmus all wanted to reach out and help James, but they knew they were powerless in this situation. They were all trapped in the cage, unable to change their fate. Lena tried to offer words of comfort, but her voice was weak and unconvincing. James was right, they were all doomed.

"Dozia did what she had to do," Lena said, trying to keep her voice steady. "We had to save Oliver. He was the only one who could help us."

James scoffed. "Oliver is useless. He's just a kid. He's not the messiah we've been waiting for." He snapped his head around, his finger extending towards the rows of tents. “Not some damn snot nosed twelve-year-old afraid of his own shadow. You dream of a messiah, but the prophecies were wrong…”

Lena sighed. She knew James was right. Oliver was just a child, scared and alone. But they had no other options. They had to put their faith in him.

Rasmus spoke up, his voice trembling with anger. "James, you need to calm down. We're all in this together."

James shook his head. "No, we're not. We're just a bunch of slaves, waiting to be sold to the highest bidder. We're nothing."

Lena felt a tear roll down her cheek. She was scared, but she couldn't let James see that. She had to stay strong, for herself and for the little ones that held onto her.

"James, we'll find a way out of this," she said, her voice cracking. "We'll stick together, and we'll make it through."

But deep down, Lena knew that was a lie. They were all alone, trapped in a cage, waiting for their fate to be decided by someone else. There was no way out, no hope for a better future. They were all doomed, and there was nothing they could do about it.

“We’re gonna be enslaved,” James said, his voice low and urgent. “They’re gonna take us to an auction, just like they did with Lena’s brother. And if you think you’re gonna get lucky, well...think again.”

Rasmus tried to interrupt, but James pressed on. “Some of you might get sold to nobles in the human nations or empires, to work as their servants. But most of you...” He shook his head. “You’re gonna end up in harsh slave labor, or worse.”

His eyes narrowed. “They might even send you to the eastern islands. They like to break and train Demis there, turn 'em into killing machines for their armies. But let me tell you, not many of 'em survive that training.”

His head snapped toward Lena, the children cowering in fear as her gaze averted from James. "Lena is a full demi-human, not a drop of human blood within her. She'll be lucky if some noblewoman wants to take her and make her into a slave." His chuckle lacked any warmth or humor and instead held the harshness of madness, emptying out like sand. "But most likely, she'll be sold off into back-breaking labor. She'd better hope no nobles take a liking to--"

"James, that's enough!" Rasmus lurched from his seat, his large arms going along James's shoulders. "Do you think you're funny? Do you honestly believe we didn't know what was going to happen?"

Rasmus's breath was heavy, his eyes glaring as he stared at James. His lips lightly parted, and tears began to spill from his light blue eyes. "I just...I don't want this. I don't want to live a life like this."

Slowly, Rasmus lessened his grip, and James slunk down the bars of the chain, wrapping his arms around himself. "I don't want to die. I don't want to be enslaved. My life is mine, and I was born free. I can't, I won't--"

The words came out gnashed and torn, barely audible through James's sobs and harsh coughs. Dozia rose from her seat, her right hand going along James's shoulder. They were all stressed out, and if they didn't find a way out, there would be hell to pay come morning.

Taking a deep breath, she rose, her hands once again intertwining along the cold metal bars as she heard forest critters. Welcoming the scents and sounds, she tried to clear her mind. Oliver, weak and pitiful though he may be now, would change. Dozia had faith that their sacrifice would spur him into action.

Maybe this was all just something that had to happen. Within their sacrifice, Oliver might receive the training he needed. Perhaps he would remember them and their sacrifice, and that would spur him into action.

Dozia's fingers went to her cheek, swiping away tears as she forced her face to the other side. She couldn't cry right now, not when the others and the little ones needed her. Taking a deep breath, she used the edge of her shirt to wipe away the tears. Now was not the time for crying. Now was the time for action.