Enslaved

...Rachel...

I woke up feeling my back burning, the pain was unbearable, and the position I was lying in didn’t help at all. I was sprawled on the cold, dirty floor of the cave, my strength completely drained, and I had no idea how much time had passed since that memory of being tortured.

At least now I had a little control, unlike before when I could only watch myself as if I were watching a series... My mouth was completely dry, I just wanted a drop of water, the minimum a person deserved, but my voice was too weak to be heard.

"Ah, you’re awake..." I heard an unfamiliar voice, and I felt a momentary relief that it wasn’t the muffled voice of the masked man. The voice was hoarse and somewhat tired. "Stay still... You need to save as much energy as possible so your wounds can heal."

Even though the man said that, I disobeyed and turned a little. Everything hurt, and I wished none of it was real. As I turned slightly, I saw him. He was an old man, wearing dirty, tattered rags, and his neck was collared with a thick metal collar. Like me, he was just a prisoner.

As horrible as the situation in that place was, he still had a smile on his face, and I think from my expression, which made me look like I was on the brink of death, he picked up a wooden cup with some water in it and gave it to me to drink... I drank like a desperate animal and then devoured the bread he also offered. The bread was hard, and the taste was terrible, probably moldy, yet I didn’t complain—I needed to satisfy my hunger somehow.

Part of me felt guilty... That food and water were his, and other prisoners didn’t share anything willingly. He could have left me there to die, and that would have been better for him since it would be one less mouth to feed. Still, he was treating my wounds, applying bandages and cleaning them as best as he could so I wouldn’t get infected.

"You’re a strong girl, you know that?" the man said, looking at me while I groaned in pain. I felt like the most miserable person in the world, and still, he was telling me I was strong? That couldn’t be possible.

"I should die... At least I’d escape this place." That thought slipped from my lips. I didn’t really want that... But the whole situation felt hopeless. I was just an ordinary girl, I... Not just me—no one in that place deserved to be there.

The place seemed hellish. There was constantly the sound of pounding on the walls, made by other prisoners using pickaxes to dig more tunnels through the stone. In my memories, before I had been punished, I was also forced to mine, using a pickaxe to break stones, and when a crystal was found, it had to be handed over to one of the guards, and you’d receive a little water and food in return.

It wasn’t just the sound of pickaxes hitting the rocks that made the place a true nightmare—the screams of those being punished echoed endlessly through the dark corridors. Each corridor was held up by old wooden beams that barely supported the constant weight of the enormous rocks above them... The fear that at any moment you could be crushed by a collapsing rock due to the vibrations was palpable.

"I don’t want to die here..." My voice came out weak, uncertain, with tears on my face mixing with the dirt that covered me. "I can’t die here!" I clenched my hand tightly, making me see that cursed mark that had caused all of this. The mark glowed brightly this time, and even the old man was startled and stepped back a little.

"You’re not going to die here." He said with his hoarse but resolute voice.

"How can you say that?" I clenched my hand tighter, noticing the tears falling on it.

"Have you ever heard of the legend of the ‘Cursed One’?"

I shook my head in denial.

He sat down near me and stroked the mark on my hand, following its contours. It was a bit uncomfortable that he was touching me, but I ignored it. He was helping me, and this legend interested me... Because even though I didn’t know it, somewhere in my new memories, it felt familiar.

"They say one day a merciless queen will rise to rule the world, punishing the unjust and saving the truly needy..." He basically whispered it, as if telling the story was an even worse crime than whatever he had already been accused of. "There were others who tried to revolt, calling themselves the true cursed one... But none had anything special about them."

I understood what he meant about having something special... That mark on my hand, a mark no one else had, glowing as if it were magical, as if somehow it held hidden power.

"Do you think I could be that queen?" I spoke softly, in a tone no one nearby could hear. The old man nodded slightly and ran his hand through his white beard.

So that was it—this was his interest in saving me... He believed I could bring justice... No, I recognized the look on his face. It wasn’t just justice he wanted. His eyes burned with a fiery flame—it was the same sharp, cruel look I had every time I thought about the girl who had caused my death... He wanted revenge.

It was hard to know whether it was day or night since there was no way to see outside those cold caves... Time seemed not to exist. Things always happened the same way—slaves worked day and night until they collapsed from exhaustion and were replaced by others, and then it repeated... Guards came and went, dragging prisoners and applying punishments as needed, and sometimes just to show power when it was completely unnecessary.

When my wounds had healed and I was no longer as weak as before, the guards took me. They were led by the man with the metal mask. He was the jailer... The boss who ruled that place. They forced me to walk, my hands and legs chained in a way that kept me from walking fast, and even so, those men forced me to keep up with their pace.

We passed other prisoners who were mining, going deeper into the excavation. We had arrived at an entrance where the mines met a natural cave, where rats and bats lived and where the entrance to the pit was...

The pit was the place where slaves went and never returned. It was a deep, narrow hole where only one person could walk through at a time...

"No... Please..." I begged, only to be kicked to the ground, and then they threw a small pickaxe at me. I couldn’t even use it as a weapon—if I tried to rebel, I’d be executed right there by the guards’ bright and sharp swords... My only option was to obey.

I started walking deeper into that hole. The place was so narrow, so tight that I could barely move. I really had to use the pickaxe to dig my way through. The deeper I went, the tighter my chest felt... It was obvious those men wanted me to die there... I took a deep breath, not wanting any of it to be real. Everything was so terrible.

As I dug, my eyes filled with tears, overwhelmed by the longing for my old life. "This is unfair," I thought... "I don’t deserve this!" my inner voice screamed, crying out for help.

"You really don’t deserve this." That voice... I recognized it. It was the same voice that had spoken to me while I was receiving my new memories. "Keep going. You want power, and I’ll give you your power."

I wiped the tears from my face and held on tightly. I had to keep going, and so I did. The stones shattered, and sparks flew with each blow from the iron pickaxe. It was wearing down quickly, throwing fragments to the sides. Finally, the tip of the tool hit something harder than the stones, releasing a brighter spark like a flicker of fire.

"Touch the crystal." The voice said in my mind. It was instinctive—I dropped the pickaxe and touched the crystal with my right hand, the one with the tattoo... It glowed intensely, the same color as the orange crystal. "You feel the power, don’t you? You want to release it, don’t you?"

My heart burned, and I nodded, feeling my skin start to heat up, like something was bubbling inside me, reacting to the hot crystal in front of me. The mark that had only been on my hand began to spread with more lines and symbols I didn’t understand. It spread across my arms, up my torso, and around my neck.

"Focus on your hatred." The voice whispered seductively—there was no way to refuse... So I closed my eyes. Focus my hatred... I hated everyone who had imprisoned me in that place, every one of those guards, and especially that masked executioner—he deserved to suffer! "That’s it... Now let your fury flow!"

The voice commanded me once more. The intense heat from the hatred flowed through me in a way I couldn’t contain. Not that I wanted to contain it. When I finally opened my eyes, everything exploded... Flames violently engulfed me, burning everything around me, and since there was only one exit, the flames quickly rose through the pit. I smiled, hearing the guards scream... This was my chance to get my revenge and leave that place behind.

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