The Depths of Shazar-Zul

“Wake up!” a voice shouted.

The next moment, ice-cold water poured down on their bodies, soaking deep into their matted, blood-streaked fur.

Melissa and Liviana jolted awake, torn from a dull sleep of exhaustion.

But as soon as they sat up, the short chains around their necks yanked them back down to the ground.

The iron shackles on their limbs and throats had left raw, bloody scrapes.

And those were the least of their injuries.

Since their capture, they hadn’t been treated gently.

Melissa, Liviana, Isari, and the other Selvarin who had dared to follow them were brutally beaten on the spot.

They were forced to watch as Tagunel’s lifeless body was impaled on a crooked wooden stake, right in the midst of the encampment.

His arms dangled limp at his sides, his head bowed to his chest.

The cloak he wore fluttered in the wind, torn and soaked with blood.

The leaf-shaped brooch he once bought with the two of them still held it together.

Now he was nothing more but a warning.

Melissa and Liviana were thrown into a dark cell, separated from the other slaves.

No one had questioned them yet, and for the first days, they were given nothing to eat.

Instead, the Yashari kept them awake by dousing them with buckets of cold water.

One soldier stood out in particular.

“Ha ha ha! So there’s still some life in you after all!” he laughed, hoarse and brutal, as they struggled against their restraints, gasping, their eyes full of hate.

He was stocky, slightly overweight, with a long, curled beard.

Dark eyes gleamed beneath his brow, which merged into a greasy, wrinkled neck that trembled with every laugh.

When a younger soldier approached, a scrawny boy barely older than a child, he held a bowl of water and a piece of flatbread in his hands.

But before he could offer it, the other soldier snatched it away, threw it to the ground, and stomped on it with full force.

“They get nothing!” he shrieked, almost hysterically.

The young soldier flinched.

“Y-yes Saarkesh...“

The cruel guard stepped closer to the bars, his gaze locking onto Liviana, whose swollen eyes were barely visible.

“Don’t worry, little kitty… I’ll take care of you personally. If you behave.”

Melissa pushed herself up with effort, blood clung to her lips.

“Touch her, and I’ll rip your throat out,” she hissed.

Saarkesh laughed again, this time darker, more threatening.

“Don’t worry, little Selvarin goat bitch. Your turn’s coming too. Lord Nazirul said he will take care of you personally. And then you’ll learn what Yashar does to spies…”

With that, he turned and stomped away, his footsteps echoing across the packed dirt.

“I swear, I’ll kill that bastard before we get out of here…” Melissa muttered, more to herself than anyone else.

Then she leaned toward Liviana with a weary sigh.

“How are you holding up?”

A bitter smile flickered across Liviana’s face.

“I’m still alive. But without food… not for much longer.”

Melissa moved closer to her.

“They won’t keep us here forever. Sooner or later… they’ll start asking questions. Why would they just let us starve to death?”

Liviana turned her head, her voice trembling.

“Tagunel was right. We should’ve run. Now he’s dead. Because of me…”

Tears shimmered on her fur-covered cheeks.

Melissa placed a hand on her shoulder.

“Nonsense. You wanted to do the right thing. If I hadn’t lost my powers… if I could have transformed as usual…” She stared down at her trembling hands. “If anything, it’s my fault,” Melissa added quietly.

They leaned back to back, supporting each other in silence.

Melissa had hoped her powers would return, that it was only a matter of time.

But nothing happened.

No spark, no trace of the divine power Dionysus had once blessed her with.

Later that evening, the younger soldier returned, the one Saarkesh had scolded.

This time, he passed water and bread through the bars without being stopped.

Melissa devoured her share immediately, her hunger was too great, her throat too dry to hesitate.

Liviana hesitated only for a moment, then accepted hers as well, though her eyes studied the boy carefully.

“Don’t get any ideas,” he muttered. “Orders are to keep you alive. And I’m not taking lashes for that fat bastard.”

Apparently, “fat bastard” meant Saarkesh.

The next day, something finally changed.

Several soldiers, led by a foul-tempered Saarkesh, dragged them roughly from the cell and loaded them onto a wagon, along with a few other slaves.

There, they saw Isari again. She looked just as battered as they did.

“Liv! You’re still alive!” Isari cried with relief as she was chained beside Liviana.

The two embraced as best the shackles would allow.

“Do you know where they’re taking us?” Liviana whispered.

Isari shook her head, but Saarkesh answered for her, loud and mocking.

“To Shazar-Zul!” He grinned cruelly. “And if you thought this was bad… wait until the torturers welcome you there.”

“Shazar-Zul…” Liviana repeated the name, barely audible, fear rose in her eyes.

Melissa noticed immediately.

“What is it? What is in Shazar-Zul?”

Isari answered in Liviana’s place.

“It’s Yashar’s religious center, far in the southwest. That’s where they train their priests and mages, and where they keep political prisoners.” She paused. “No one’s ever returned alive…”

Melissa let the words settle for a moment.

“Then I guess we’ll be the first,” she said, full of resolve.

Liviana’s worried expression softened.

Her eyes lit up, and a quiet laugh escaped her lips before she nodded in agreement.

“Yeah. We will…”

The wagon jolted into motion, and Melissa closed her eyes.

“I just hope Lucius is well…” she whispered faintly, only to herself.

᯽᯽᯽

After three grueling days, they finally reached their destination.

Surprisingly, Saarkesh’s abuse had been kept to a minimum.

He occasionally kicked them or yanked their chains, but they were given water and bread regularly.

And although he growled and scowled, he didn’t stop it.

Melissa and Liviana concluded that the information they might give was considered valuable.

Finally, the wagon rumbled through the city’s stone gates and slowed down.

Strange symbols curled along the buildings like black vines.

From every corner came murmurs of dark prayers.

Melissa lifted her head; her lips were cracked, her eyes tired but alert.

“Is this…?” she whispered.

Liviana gave a faint nod.

“Shazar-Zul.”

The district at the city’s core was a maze of basalt and alabaster, carved with dark frescoes and warding symbols.

Smoke rose from the towers, accompanied by the constant whispering of priests and mages in black, face-concealing robes.

The wagon came to a halt, and rough hands seized their chains as they were dragged off the vehicle.

Before them rose a dark, domed structure made of black basalt, flanked by two massive statues.

A guard captain in a bronze mask stepped forward to Saarkesh, who suddenly looked uncharacteristically meek and submissive.

“Take them below.”

A cold chill ran down Liviana’s spine.

“What a dreadful place…”

Then they were separated.

Melissa and Liviana exchanged one final, defiant look before being dragged in different directions.

No words were spoken. Only the clinking of chains echoed through the dark corridors of the underground halls.

Melissa didn’t resist, but with every step, her tension grew as she was led down a long, cold hallway.

On either side, thick metal doors stood in rows, each with a narrow viewing slit.

Nothing could be heard except for a faint drip of water in the distance.

At one door, they stopped.

With a heavy clunk, the bolt was drawn back, and she was shoved inside.

The cell was small, stone walls without windows. Just an old cot with a tattered cloth.

A moldy wooden bucket stood in the corner, and the air smelled of mold, blood, and filth.

The guard cast her one last cruel glance.

“Don’t worry, Selvarin. When Lord Nazirul arrives, it won’t be so lonely for you anymore, hehe…”

Then the door shut closed.

Melissa stood still for a moment before slowly sliding down against the wall.

The cold, damp floor seeped into her bones.

Her chin rested on her hands as she sighed, exhausted.

“I miss those fried cheese skewers…”