Chapter 2: The Slave Quarters
1317 Words
I woke up to the sound of iron scraping against stone and the sharp sting of cold water hitting my face.
My eyes flew open as I gasped, my body jerking violently against the shock. Water soaked through my clothes instantly, clinging to my skin as a rough laugh echoed somewhere above me. My head throbbed, my limbs felt heavy, and for a moment, I couldn’t remember where I was or how I got there.
Then it came rushing back.
The fire. The hunters. The forest.
The men who found me.
“Finally awake,” a voice said.
I turned my head slowly, my vision still blurred, until I could make out a tall figure standing near the entrance of the dim space. He looked down at me with clear disinterest, as though I were nothing more than an inconvenience.
“Get up.”
I tried, but my body refused to cooperate. Pain flared through my limbs as I pushed myself onto my elbows, my muscles trembling under the effort.
“I said get up.”
“I’m trying,” I muttered, my voice hoarse and barely audible.
A second later, a boot slammed into my side, knocking the air out of my lungs. I curled instinctively, coughing as pain spread through my ribs.
“Don’t talk back,” he snapped.
“I didn’t”
Another kick silenced me.
“Move.”
I forced myself to stand, swaying slightly as dizziness hit me again. The ground beneath my feet was cold, uneven stone, and the air smelled damp, thick with something foul I couldn’t immediately place.
“Follow me.”
I didn’t argue this time.
I couldn’t.
He led me through a narrow corridor, the walls closing in on either side, lit only by flickering torches that barely pushed back the darkness. The deeper we went, the heavier the air became, thick with the scent of sweat, blood, and something worse.
Rot.
My stomach twisted, but I said nothing.
“Where are we going?” I asked quietly after a moment, unable to stop myself.
He didn’t even look at me.
“You’ll see.”
That was all he said.
We turned a corner, and the space opened up suddenly into a larger chamber, one that made my chest tighten the moment I stepped inside. Rows of small, enclosed spaces lined the walls, each one separated by rusted iron bars. Inside them, people sat or lay on the ground, their forms thin, their expressions empty.
Some looked up as we entered, Others didn’t bother.
“This is where you belong,” the man said.
I froze.
“What?”
He finally glanced at me, his expression cold.
“You heard me. This is the slave quarter.”
The words hit harder than any blow.
“No… I thought”
“You thought what?”
I swallowed, my throat suddenly dry.
“That you saved me.”
He laughed.
The sound was sharp and humorless.
“We don’t save rogues.”
“I’m not a rogue,” I said quickly, desperation creeping into my voice. “I have a pack. I just got separated”
“Do you have a wolf?”
The question cut through everything.
I hesitated.
That was my mistake.
His expression shifted immediately, any trace of neutrality replaced with disgust.
“That’s what I thought.”
“I will get one,” I said, even though I wasn’t sure it was true. “I just haven’t yet”
“Eighteen?”
I nodded slowly.
“And still nothing?” he scoffed. “You’re worse than a rogue. At least they have something.”
“I’m not” “Enough.”
He shoved me forward, and I stumbled into one of the empty cells, barely catching myself before I hit the ground. The metal door slammed shut behind me with a loud clang, the sound echoing through the chamber like a final verdict.
“You eat when you’re told. You work when you’re told. You speak when spoken to,” he said, his voice flat. “Try anything else, and you’ll regret it.”
He turned and walked away without another word.
I stood there for a long moment, staring at the bars in front of me, my mind struggling to process what had just happened.
This wasn’t a temporary place.
This wasn’t a misunderstanding.
This was real, “New one.”
The voice came from my left.
I turned to see a woman sitting in the adjacent cell, her back against the wall, her arms resting loosely on her knees. Her eyes were sharp despite the bruises that marked her skin, and there was something in her expression that made me uneasy.
“Yes,” I said quietly.
She studied me for a moment.
“You don’t look like the others.”
“I’m not,” I replied.
“They all say that.”
“I mean it.”
She tilted her head slightly.
“Do you have a wolf?”
The question again, The same answer.
“No.”
Something in her gaze shifted, though I couldn’t tell if it was pity or judgment.
“Then you are like the others,” she said.
“I’m not supposed to be here,” I insisted. “I have a family. A pack. They’ll come for me.”
She didn’t respond immediately.
When she did, her voice was softer.
“They won’t.”
“You don’t know that.”
“I know enough.”
Silence fell between us, heavy and suffocating.
“They brought you here for a reason,” she continued after a moment. “They don’t waste space.”
“What reason?” I asked.
She hesitated, then looked away.
“You’ll find out.”
“I want to know now.”
She shook her head.
“It’s better if you don’t.”
Frustration bubbled up inside me, mixing with fear and exhaustion until I didn’t know what to feel anymore.
“I deserve to know.”
“And I deserve to be free,” she snapped suddenly, her voice rising. “But we don’t get what we deserve here.”
The words hung in the air, raw and real.
I looked away, my chest tightening as the weight of my situation pressed down on me.
Hours passed.
Or maybe it was minutes.
Time felt strange in that place, stretching and folding in ways that made it impossible to track.
At some point, someone came by and tossed a small piece of bread into my cell. I grabbed it immediately, hunger overriding everything else, and ate it in a few quick bites despite its stale taste.
“Don’t eat too fast,” the woman next to me said.
“Why?”
“You’ll get sick.”
“I don’t care.”
She didn’t argue.
That night, I didn’t sleep.
Every sound made me flinch, every movement in the shadows sent a jolt of fear through my body. Somewhere in the distance, I heard screams, low at first, then rising into something sharper, something that made my blood run cold.
“What is that?” I whispered.
The woman didn’t answer.
I turned toward her.
“What is that?”
Her jaw tightened.
“Punishment.”
“For what?”
“For anything.”
I swallowed hard, my fingers curling into fists as dread settled deep in my stomach.
“This place…” I trailed off, unable to finish the thought.
“It breaks people,” she said quietly.
I closed my eyes, leaning back against the cold stone wall.
I had survived the hunters.
I had survived the forest.
But as I sat there, surrounded by iron bars and broken people, I realized something that sent a chill down my spine.
This place wasn’t meant for survival.
It was meant for suffering.
And I had just been thrown into the middle of it.
- Writer
