Unseen Chains

The cart jolted hard, slamming me against the splintered wood. My ribs screamed in protest, and I gritted my teeth, forcing myself upright. The sun burned overhead, making the barren land stretch farther than it should. The trees were lifeless and twisted, their bare branches like skeletal fingers clawing at the sky.

The cart creaked and groaned as it trundled over the rough road, carrying me and a dozen others. I rubbed my wrists absently, though I wasn’t tied. Didn’t need to be. The crimson warriors marching alongside us were a reminder enough that there was no escape. 

I glanced around. The young woman beside me had her arms wrapped tightly around her knees, her whole body stiff like she thought the cart would swallow her whole if she let her guard down. I could tell by the way she looked she wasn't from my village. Her breaths were shallow as she darted to the soldiers with every movement. Across from me, an older man leaned against the frame, his head bowed. His lips moved as if he were praying or cursing under his breath.

I broke the silence,  “Where are they taking us?”

“I don’t know,” she added quickly, shaking her head before anyone could answer. “They took us from our village. Didn’t say a word.”

I glanced at the older man, hoping he knew more. He lifted his head slightly, his sunken eyes meeting mine. “To the Crimson Dynasty’s capital,” he said, his voice low and rough.

That didn’t tell me much, and it sure didn’t ease the knot forming in my stomach. “Why? What do they want with us?” My voice came out harsher than I intended, probably because I already hated the answer I knew was coming.

The man tilted his head back, staring at the sky like it might give him some peace. “Whatever they didn’t find when they burned our homes. Resources, weapons—whatever their king thinks will feed his hunger for power. When they can’t find what they’re looking for...” His gaze dropped back to me, heavy and cold. “They take us instead.”

My stomach churned. I swallowed, trying to force down the lump in my throat. “What do they do with us?” I asked though part of me didn’t want to hear it.

 “You’ll find out. If you last long enough. I’ve heard enough stories about these monsters to know what they’re capable of. The Azeron Guardians were supposed to protect us—supposed to keep us safe. And now? Now we’re rotting in the hands of the very ones they failed to stop.”

The woman whimpered softly, curling in on herself like she could disappear. My fists clenched against my thighs. I wanted to say something—anything—but what was there to say? That we’d be fine? That we’d get out of this? I wasn’t even sure I believed that.

The cart jolted again, rattling so hard my teeth clicked together. The old man straightened slightly, rubbing his knee before looking at me. “What’s your name, son?”

I hesitated for a second, then answered. “Kaelan. My name’s Kaelan.”

The man nodded slowly like he was committing it to memory. “I’m Darrek,” he said. “If you’re smart, Kaelan, you’ll keep your head down when we get there. Whatever they want from us, it’s better to survive long enough to figure it out.”

Survive. Right. Like it was that simple.

I looked up—and froze.

The city towered over us, carved like a fortress meant to keep the world out. Sharp, jagged buildings rose from the rock, their edges as unforgiving as the soldiers who had brought us here. Crimson banners hung from every spire and ledge, the black rose emblem emblazoned on them impossible to miss. 

Massive gates loomed ahead, their iron surfaces covered in carvings of warriors and kings. They seemed to watch us as we passed beneath them. On either side, towering statues of armored figures stood guard, their blank faces staring down as if judging us unworthy.

“Keep moving!” one of the soldiers barked. I flinched as the butt of a spear jabbed into my back, urging me forward. I stumbled, my boots scraping against the uneven ground, and fell in step with the others.

Workers lined the streets, hauling carts filled with rocks and metal. Their faces were hidden beneath grime-streaked masks, but their hunched shoulders and dragging steps said enough. My gaze darted around, taking in every detail I could—the soldiers’ patrol routes, the gaps between buildings, the alleys that might offer some cover. I didn’t know what I was looking for yet. Just... something.

“This place is a graveyard,” someone whispered behind me.

I didn’t turn to see who had spoken. They weren’t wrong.

As we were herded into the massive hall, I realized we weren’t alone. Hundreds of people were already, huddled in clusters. some clinging to family or neighbors, others standing stiff and silent, their faces drawn and haunted.

I scanned the crowd, catching glimpses of tattered clothing, soot-streaked skin, and wide, frightened eyes. These weren’t just people from my village. They were from everywhere—their accents, their dress, the way they carried themselves, all different.

At the far end of the hall stood a woman I didn’t recognize, though she didn’t need a name for me to understand her importance. Her armor shimmered like liquid crimson, the edges so sharp they seemed to cut the air around her. The way she carried herself—calm, deliberate, with a quiet sort of menace—commanded attention. Her dark hair was tied back tightly, and her piercing gaze swept over us as we approached.

When we stopped, she stepped forward, her boots striking the stone floor with an echo that seemed too loud in the silence.

“I am General Zira,” she said, her voice sharp and steady. “Commander of the Crimson Dynasty’s forces.”

Her name settled over the room like a weight. Some of the captives glanced at each other uneasily, while others just stared at her, frozen.

“You’ve all been brought here for a purpose,” she continued, her tone unchanging. “Your villages are gone. What they held—what we sought—could not be saved. That loss is regrettable, but necessary.”

Anger stirred in my chest, a low heat that matched the energy around us. I could feel it radiating from the others too, simmering just below the surface. Zira’s eyes moved across the group, scanning us with a calm, practiced precision. When her gaze passed over me, I fought the urge to look away.

“But your lives are not wasted,” she said, her tone firm but measured. “Here, you have a chance to rebuild. To find purpose in service to the Crimson Dynasty. You will contribute to the strength you see around you—or you will break beneath it.”

A man stepped forward, his voice trembling with barely contained rage. “You mean as slaves, don’t you? Just say it.”

"You misunderstand,”  serve willingly, and you will find stability. Shelter. Food. The things your villages could not provide.”

Her words resonated in the hall for a moment, and then she continued.

“You’ve lived your lives scraping by on scraps, haven’t you? Small, crumbling homes. Fields that barely yielded enough to feed your families. And when the harvest failed, what did you have left? Hunger? Thirst? Disease? You called that living?”

She took a step forward, her gaze boring into the crowd. “You worked your hands raw for people who didn’t value you. You were ignored, mistreated, and forgotten by the very leaders who should have protected you. Did they come when bandits raided your homes? Did they care when your children cried from empty bellies?”

Zira’s voice grew colder. “Your villages were nothing more than graves waiting to be filled. You clung to them because they were all you knew, but they offered you nothing. No future. No purpose.”

I felt the anger in the room shift—still there, but tangled now with something else. Shame. Doubt. A few of the captives lowered their heads, their shoulders sinking as her words took root.

“But here,” Zira said, gesturing around her with a slow sweep of her hand, “you have been offered something greater. A chance to rise above the lives you were trapped in. To find worth, strength, and meaning. Serve the Crimson Dynasty, and you will know what it means to truly live.”

She paused, her gaze raking over us like a blade. “Or resist, and you will discover the limits of your defiance.”

The man didn’t back down. “And if we refuse altogether?”

Zira’s lips curved into a faint, humorless smile. “Then you will be given time to reconsider. One month. You will live among us, observe what we offer, and decide for yourselves. At the end of that month, if you still wish to leave, you may do so. Freely. Without pursuit.”

Her words hung in the air, met with suspicion and disbelief.

When Zira’s speech ended, the soldiers wasted no time splitting us into smaller groups. They barked commands and we were marched deeper into the city. The air was filled with murmurs—low voices exchanging doubts, fears, and fragments of questions that none of us could answer.

“She said we’d be free after a month,” a woman behind me whispered. “But what if it’s true? What if we really can leave?”

“Free to go where?” a man muttered bitterly. “Back to what? There’s nothing left of our homes.”

“It’s just words,” another voice chimed in. “But… food, shelter—she wasn’t wrong about that. What if this is better?”

I didn’t say anything. I couldn’t. My thoughts churned too fast, each question twisting into another. Zira’s offer hung in the back of my mind, and though I wanted to dismiss it, I couldn’t. I’d never seen anything like this city—this place where power and order hummed in every corner. And I couldn’t deny that some of what she’d said hit uncomfortably close to home.

When we arrived at the living quarters, the soldiers opened the doors one by one, shoving us inside without ceremony. I lingered for a second, half-expecting a barked command or another rough push, but the soldier behind me simply nodded toward the door.

I stepped in—and froze.

The room wasn’t what I’d imagined. It wasn’t a cell or some damp, overcrowded barracks. It was… comfortable. The bed was solid, its linens clean and neatly tucked. A table and chair sat by the window, the wood smooth and polished. A faint glow from an embedded crystal lit the room with a warm, steady light, and even the floor was spotless, as though it had just been scrubbed.

I stood there for a long moment, trying to make sense of it. My mind had braced for harshness—for cold stone walls and dripping ceilings, for chains and filth. This was nothing like that.

I walked to the table, running my hand along its edge. The wood was smooth, free of splinters, and the single drawer slid open without resistance. Inside, there was a folded cloth, clean and neatly placed. It felt wrong to touch it like it didn’t belong in my hands.

For a moment, I felt almost foolish for my expectations. I’d thought this would be a prison. And maybe it was, in its way. But I couldn’t deny the care that had gone into making this place livable—even welcoming.

Sitting on the edge of the bed, I stared at the crystal light. A small part of me, one I didn’t want to admit to, wondered if Zira’s offer was worth listening to. These weren’t things I’d ever been able to take for granted. Could this be real?

The whispers of the others reached me through the thin stone walls. Some of them argued in low voices, while others spoke with an edge of desperation.

“She said we’d have a choice,” someone said. “After a month, we can leave if we want.”

“And go where?” another shot back. “Back to ashes and ruin? There’s nothing left!”

“At least here there’s food,” a third voice muttered. “Here, we might survive.”

The arguments felt like echoes of my thoughts. I couldn’t blame them for their doubts—or their hope. What if Zira was telling the truth? What if this place really could offer something more than the scraps of life we’d known before?

But even as curiosity stirred inside me, so did the unease. Everything here seemed deliberate. It wasn’t kindness—it couldn’t be. It was something else.

I lay back on the bed, staring at the smooth stone ceiling. The faint glow of the crystal light filled the silence, but my mind refused to quiet. Questions churned, each one dragging me further from rest.

After the Red Clan’s attack, after the rubble fell, I’d blacked out. The last thing I remembered was the deafening crash, the walls collapsing around me. Could Satoshi have survived? I thought of his sharp eyes, his quick thinking, the way he always seemed ready for anything. But even he couldn’t have stopped that. Could anyone?

And then there was Renjiro. My chest knotted at the thought of him.  Was he out there? Did he even know what had happened to me? Would he come back if he could?

I sat up, rubbing my face with my hands. The weight of those questions was heavier than anything Zira had said.

I didn’t know what this place was yet. I didn’t know if Zira’s words held truth, or if they were just another weapon she used to control us. But I did know one thing: I couldn’t stay here.

Whether it was real or not, whether her promises meant something or nothing at all, this wasn’t where I belonged.

I pressed my hand against the cold stone frame of the window and whispered the words aloud. “I’ll leave. I’ll find a way out of here, one way or another.”

The promise settled in my chest. Satoshi. Renjiro. I’d find out what had happened to them. And if they were still out there, I’d make it back to them.

No matter what it took.