An abstract hope for freedom flitted throughout the broken mind of a damned slave.

Invigorated, she shared this thought with others - only to be found out and cut down before the idea could take hold. She died, alone, for the terrible crime of daring to dream.

The remains of her soulless body were strung up, akin to a great shelled beast with its head on display. Her eyes, once full of life and hope, were now empty with despair. A reminder - a warning - to those who wanted more.

Five months later, the skeletal remains of this woman caught the eye of a newly captured Vaek. The story did not deter him; it instead inspired him. For the sake of this woman’s dream, for others like him, and for those whose hopes sang in the shadows.

And they did hope. The truth was, they had never stopped wanting in the end. But dreams were dangerous, so they hid the dreams away. If only, the man thought, if only there were someone to tell them that they were not alone. That others dared to dream as well. 

There is an old Vaek saying - though it had almost been lost to time at that point - that, should one fruit bloom, the rest would follow. So, the man resolved to be the first to blossom, and inspire others to hope again.

Hope was the lifeblood of change, after all, so he ran. He ran, and the hopes and dreams, wants and needs of his people ran with him.

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He almost made it, too. Faced with the edge of his captor’s estate, though, he was also faced with a choice.

He could continue running, and be free. He could find his family again, and live peacefully to an old age. Indeed, had he continued, that was what would have happened.

But the universe does not worry itself with what could have been. For he stood and stopped at that ledge, looking out onto the town built on foundations of blood with fury and passion in his eyes.

The town looked up to meet him. He drew the eye of many a person; his gaze captivating, his fury radiating from his figure. And he yelled, in the native Vaek tongue that they were supposed to forget but which everyone knew. And these were the words he spoke:

“I am free! I have made it, and freedom stands before me. But I stop - not for the humans, not for the ones who have broken us and made us their slaves, and not for myself, but for the ones who dream, for the ones who hope and wish with all their might! And here, in the sweet sunlight of freedom, I wish up to the sky with the might of all Vaekai who long for more. I wish for a brighter future, where all can bask under this glorious light! They will try to silence me, and they will succeed, but let not my words be lost today. Let them sing in the words of hope!”

The dreamer was still shouting as he was executed.

They did not let his words be lost. News spread like flame-sweeps throughout the land - and you cannot calm a flame-sweep, no matter how much water you have. Hope ignited again and again and again, until every person, slave or not, had heard the tale.

And all of a sudden, a subdued people with cold hearts found themselves lit with the burning flame of hope.

Escapes became commonplace - attempts even more so. The man’s wish was coming true; at the cost of his life, and his freedom, it was granted to innumerous others.

For a time, things were looking up.

Then, the executions started. The decree came that families, the friends, the lovers of an escaped slave were to be hung on the gate of the town for three days and three nights. Not everyone could afford to do so, but there were enough Vaek in each town that the tortured souls of the innocent were tethered to the wretched gate of most towns. A hefty reward was given to anyone with information on slave escapes - whether the informant was human or Vaek did not matter.

And so, as quickly as the hope had sparked, it was extinguished once more.