Back to the Roots

Chapter 5: Captive

It had been two days since we delivered the letter to Alex. Since then, we had returned to our daily routine. During this short time, I had the chance to get to know my uncle and my cousin Mary more closely. The moments I spent with them slightly eased the sense of alienation I felt inside. I tried to help them as much as I could, lighten their daily burden. The satisfaction in their eyes left a warmth in my chest.

That morning, we woke up before sunrise as usual. We quietly set the table and had breakfast together, the three of us. Then we carefully filled the milk into glass bottles. Mary and I went down to the town and set up our stall at the market. My uncle, as always, had taken to the village roads early in the morning. He was delivering goods to nearby villages and fulfilling orders.

With the first light of day, the marketplace began to come alive. Children ran around, old folks watched the bustle while sipping their morning coffee, and vendors were setting up their stalls. Mary and I spent the whole day serving customers. Some who tasted the milk asked about our other products. Sometimes Mary spoke, sometimes I did. Our harmony was improving day by day.

Toward noon, the sun was high in the sky, and the air had grown oppressively hot. Mary wiped the sweat from her forehead with her arm and asked,

“Would it be okay if I leave a little early today? I need to prepare a few things for lunch. If you can handle a few more sales, I’ll head home now.”

I nodded. There weren’t many customers left anyway.

“Go ahead,” I said. “I’ll wrap things up here and come later.”

She smiled as she stepped out from behind the stall.

“Be careful,” she said. “And be firm when bargaining—people can tell you’re new.”

After she left, I continued selling for a while longer. There weren’t many people around, but I managed to sell a few more bottles of milk.

The crowd slowly began to thin. I packed up the stall and loaded the goods into crates. The air had started to cool down. I slung the crates over my shoulders, carrying the glass bottles in my hands, and walked through familiar streets toward home. When I reached the front of the house, I opened the garden gate and stepped inside. I hadn’t even closed the gate yet when something made me turn around.

My eyes caught a figure at the end of the street.

Someone was there.

He was in the shadows, but his silhouette was enough for me to recognize him.

It was him. The man we encountered at the printing house.

My heart started pounding. A moment later, he turned his head slightly and began to walk away slowly. His steps were uneasy. He didn’t look back. He didn’t hurry. But I was there. I watched him. Until he turned the corner and disappeared.

I turned back to the garden and put everything on the table. The glass bottles clinked against each other with a sharp sound. I couldn’t suppress the fury rising in my chest. This was too much. A stranger—someone who had secretly watched us before—had now found the house we lived in. This wasn’t coincidence anymore. It was surveillance. A threat.

I rolled up my sleeves. My vision blurred. I couldn’t forgive someone who followed me all the way here—to the house where my uncle and Mary lived.

I stormed out of the garden gate, heading quickly in the direction he had gone. Normally, I wasn’t someone who acted out of anger. I was calm, I waited, I observed. But I didn’t want to lose sight of him again—especially now that he knew where I lived, where my family was. At the end of the street, there was a narrow path curving to the right. He was out of sight, but somehow, I knew he hadn’t lost me. I could feel his breath—not behind me, but inside me. That cold intuition had seeped into my bones. There were no footsteps, but his presence clung to me like a shadow. I slowed down—I wanted him to catch up.

The street forked. The path to the left was quieter. I immediately turned that way. The wind that carried a sinister chill seemed to be bringing him with it.

Then I noticed a garden gate left ajar. I quickly scanned the area. No one was around. I slipped inside and hid behind the door. I held my breath, trying to catch every sound from the street.

Then, footsteps.

They slowed—heavy and hesitant. He walked past the door I was hiding behind and stopped at the intersection. He seemed unsure which way to go. Just as I had predicted.

He was only a few steps away, back turned to me.

My heart felt like it would burst from my chest, but I reached for the dagger at my waist. Took a deep breath. I had to use his hesitation to my advantage.

I burst out the back gate. I kicked the back of the knee he was putting weight on. He lost balance and collapsed to his knees. I lunged forward, grabbed his hair with one hand and yanked his head back. My other hand pressed the dagger to his throat.

“Who are you?” I said, my voice as sharp as my fury. “Why are you following me?”

The man said nothing.

He just swallowed.

His eyes were wide, his breathing rapid. Sweat trickled down his forehead. His deep, shaky breaths echoed in the silence like an ominous rhythm. The dagger only pressed lightly against his skin, yet it was enough to expose the fear on his face.

“P-please... calm down,” he stammered, avoiding my eyes.

I clenched my jaw. The anger swelling in me weighed heavy in my chest. I had felt him near me for two days—and now he had shown up on this street, in this town, at the very doorstep of my home.

“Answer me!” I snapped. My voice echoed with unexpected power.

He flinched.

“L-look... you’ve got it wrong…” he stammered.

But his words only made me angrier. I pressed the dagger harder. He winced as the cold metal grazed his skin.

My breath was ragged. I didn’t know… did I really want to kill him?

No… maybe not.

But there was one thing I knew: I wasn’t letting him go until I knew who he was, what he wanted, and why he was following me. If not for myself, then for Mary and my uncle—the people who trusted me. I had to be sure of the threat. If necessary... I would stain my hands with blood.

I watched him closely. His face no longer only held fear, but something like regret. But for me, words weren’t enough. I needed truth. I couldn’t trust the conscience of someone who might become an enemy at any moment.

Just when I thought he had given up on speaking, the man suddenly grabbed my wrist, the one holding the dagger. Reflexively, I tightened my grip, but his cold fingers clamped down hard. I stumbled forward. He had pushed the hand holding the dagger far away, but I was still behind him. I slammed my knee into his abdomen with all my strength. He lost balance and fell to the side—but he didn’t let go of my wrist and dragged me down with him. I couldn’t resist.

I hit the ground hard. My upper body collided with his, and it knocked the wind out of me. He was trying to twist my wrist, to disarm me. Despite the pain, I resisted, but my fingers were starting to slip from the dagger. I felt his breath behind me. I struck him in the face with my left elbow—square on the nose. He must’ve felt it because he released my wrist with a gasp and clutched his nose, crawling away from me.

I jumped to my feet and kicked him hard in the face. He had no more strength left—he was groaning in pain on the ground. I pounced on him again and raised the dagger high. I was out of breath. We locked eyes. His face was covered in blood. My eyes were resolute. Only seconds remained before I plunged the dagger down.

But just then, someone grabbed my wrist from behind. A cold hand. My arm was yanked back. I was pulled off him and thrown to the ground. I tried to get up, but two more people pinned me down. My knees hit the ground. One held my arm, the other pressed down on my shoulder. The dagger flew from my hand and hit the ground.

I couldn’t fight back.

Before I could grasp what was happening, someone pulled a sack over my head. Darkness. My breath caught. At the same time, someone grabbed my arms and twisted my wrists painfully, forcing me face down onto the ground.

“Let me go! Who are you?! Help!” I screamed, struggling. But my voice vanished into the dark, leaving nothing but echoes. They grabbed me by the arms and started dragging me. I had no strength left to resist, no time. The fight had left me breathless, my muscles trembling.

I had to stay calm.

I tried to breathe through the sack, tried not to exhaust myself. I needed to save my strength for the right moment. Not now... not yet.

They walked. They dragged me. I tried to understand where we were going, how many steps they took, if they turned left or right. But my mind was a mess. Everything was blurry, dark, suffocating.

Then we stopped.

When the footsteps halted, I realized we were next to a cart. The men didn’t speak. Only now and then, I could hear the man I’d bloodied groaning somewhere behind me. That silence made it even worse. They loaded me into the cart, laying me on my back. My arms were still bound. The sack above me clung to my face, stealing my breath. My heart was pounding as if trying to burst from my chest.

Eventually, the cart stopped. They dragged me again. I didn’t know if the ground was dirt or stone. But when my feet lifted from the ground, I knew we were inside a building. A door creaked open. Cold stone scraped my back.

They threw me down.

Then came the clank of a heavy iron lock echoing in the room.

I was alone.

A cellar... maybe a dungeon. Deep, cold, and dark.

The sack was still over my head.

As I struggled to breathe, I was left alone with my thoughts.

“Is this just because I fought someone in the street?” I thought.

Or was it something else? Something bigger... something darker?

I tried to stay calm. But the sack, the ropes, this helplessness...

That moment, I saw my dream again.

The commander in Solvenia.

The rope in my hands.

The sack on my head.

And now... the dream had become reality.

Time passed. Maybe hours, maybe days.

I had no sense of it anymore.

Had I slept? Or had I just been lying there with my eyes closed, trapped in my thoughts?

My breath had grown weak. My body cold. My mind starting to slip.

But one thing I knew for certain:

This wouldn’t go on forever.