Leor and the others are shoved harshly into a large, dimly lit cell. The iron door clangs shut behind them, the sound ringing sharply as the soldiers lock it tight and leave without a word. A heavy silence settles over the room, broken only by the soft murmurs of the children inside. Some sob quietly, while others retreat into themselves, pressing into the shadows at the cell's edges.
Leor sinks down into one of those corners, still bound, his eyes sweeping over the faces around him. Some are younger, some close to his age, all etched with despair. The air feels thick with hopelessness, but Leor clings fiercely to the thought of escape. He sets his jaw, determined not to let fear show, and steels himself against the crushing weight of the moment.
As night falls, the cold creeps in, sharp and biting. It snakes through the cell, chilling the children to their bones. Shivering, Leor pulls his knees tight to his chest, trying to keep the cold at bay.
Then, a soft voice rises above the sobs—a girl urging everyone to come together for warmth. Slowly, hesitant at first, some children shuffle toward one another, forming small clusters to share what little heat they have. Others remain still, wary and distant, alone in their isolation.
The girl doesn't give up. Her voice, soft but firm, urges those still hesitant to join the huddle. Her eyes move across the cell until they rest on Leor, sitting alone in the corner. She lifts her hand, beckoning him over with a small, encouraging wave.
Leor glances at the group, then drops his gaze, his expression shadowed and distant. After a long, tense moment, he rises and shuffles over, settling down near her without a word.
She watches him carefully, a small, hopeful smile lighting her face. "You got a name?" she asks, her voice gentle, almost teasing.
Leor meets her eyes briefly, lips pressed into a thin line, then looks away.
She doesn't falter. "I'm Navi," she says, her tone easy and warm, like she's trying to keep a small fire burning in the cold.
He stays silent, his face tightening as if the question alone is too much to bear.
Navi shifts a little closer, trying to lighten the heavy air. "I bet you're the quiet type, huh?" she jokes softly. "That's alright. I talk enough for two."
Leor's lips twitch, the faintest ghost of a smile that quickly vanishes as he lowers his gaze.
Navi glances around at the other shivering children, then back at him. "You from a village nearby? Or did they drag you from farther off?" Her words sound casual, but her eyes search his face gently, hoping for any sign of comfort.
Leor only stares at the floor, jaw clenched. The pain in his eyes is clear enough—he doesn't need to say a word.
Navi pauses, then lets out a small breath, as if realizing she shouldn't push. She nods slowly. "Aye… well. Doesn't matter where we came from now, I suppose. We're all stuck in this gods-forsaken cage together."
She glances down at the small boy curled beside her, gently brushing his hair from his forehead. "That's my brother," she murmurs, softer now. "He's all I got left."
Leor's eyes flick briefly to the boy, a flicker of understanding passing across his face before he turns away again.
Navi leans closer, her voice barely above a whisper. "Don't worry… you don't have to talk. Sometimes it's enough just to sit and breathe."
Leor's eyes lift to her for a moment, his sorrowful gaze holding hers, then drop again. Slowly, he shifts closer to her, settling against the wall.
Navi lets out a quiet sigh and leans her head gently on his shoulder. "Thank you," she whispers.
Leor tenses at the touch but doesn't pull away. His shoulders eventually relax, and as the cold creeps in and exhaustion weighs on them both, his eyes slowly drift shut.
Moments later, the uneasy silence is shattered by sharp voices echoing through the corridors outside. Sunlight spills through the narrow barred opening above, casting harsh beams across the grimy cell floor.
Navi stirs, lifting her head from Leor's shoulder, blinking the sleep from her eyes. She glances at Leor, who's already sitting up, tense and wary, his eyes fixed on the doorway. The air thickens with dread as the soldiers' footsteps and barking orders draw closer.
With a loud metallic clang, the lock turns. The door swings open, and a soldier strides in, his gaze sweeping over the huddled children. Without pause, he begins dragging out anyone who looks old enough to stand and fight—or be forced to.
Leor's heart hammers in his chest as the soldier's gaze lands on him. He tries to shrink back, pressing into the cold stone wall, but it's no use. A rough hand clamps onto his shirt and yanks him to his feet.
"Out," the soldier snaps, shoving him forward.
Leor stumbles into the hallway, his mind spinning. He glances back just in time to see the soldier seize Navi by the arm and haul her upright.
"Navi!" a small, panicked voice cries out. Her little brother, now fully awake, scrambles forward, tears streaking down his face as he reaches for her.
"I'll be back!" Navi calls, trying to keep her voice steady, even as fear flickers in her eyes. "Stay strong for me, alright?"
Her words do nothing to soothe him. His sobs echo against the stone walls as Navi is pushed out of the cell, forced to join Leor and the others in the growing line.
Now in the dimly lit hallway, Leor finds himself herded into a line with other kids around his age, all marching forward under the sharp eyes of armed soldiers. The stone walls press close around them, damp and cold, each step echoing with a dread that settles deep in his bones.
As they shuffle along, Leor lifts his gaze to a narrow, barred window high on the wall. Through it, he catches a fleeting glimpse of the sky—gray and heavy with low-hanging clouds, mirroring the crushing weight inside his chest.
At last, they step out into a wide courtyard. The sudden openness feels jarring after the cramped halls. Before him, adults and teens stand gathered in a tight mass, their faces drawn with fear and confusion. Leor's stomach twists as he struggles to understand, his mind reaching desperately for answers that won't come.
His eyes drift over the crowd, landing on the bound adults nearby—people just as lost and terrified as the children. Among them, he spots the older man from the wagon, the one who had urged him to stay calm. The man's eyes are a touch more alert now, but the emptiness behind them remains, a silent testament to a hope long since abandoned.
A soldier barks an order, commanding everyone to line up, shoulder to shoulder. Hesitantly, they shuffle into place, the tension thick enough to choke on.
Then, one of the soldiers leads a figure into the center of the courtyard. The figure's white hair glows faintly, and its eyes shine with an unnatural light. Armor gleams along its frame, polished yet cold, and Leor notices it stands about the same height as the soldier beside it—a detail that catches his attention. They aren't all towering giants, he realizes; they come in different sizes.
The soldier gestures sharply to the first person in line. "Focus your mind," he commands, his voice sharp as steel. "Order the Pawn to move."
A bound man steps forward hesitantly, sweat dripping down his forehead. He raises a shaking arm, trying to summon the focus the soldier demanded. But no matter how hard he strains, the Pawn remains still, its glowing eyes locked forward without a flicker of reaction.
After a moment, a soldier steps forward with a sneer, kicking the man viciously in the side and shoving him to the ground. Without hesitation, the soldier drags him roughly away.
"Next!" the officer in charge snaps, his voice echoing across the courtyard.
One after another, the captives step forward. Most fail, collapsing under the weight of fear and confusion. Those who succeed—only a few—are ordered to stand in a separate group to the side, while the rest are herded to the opposite end.
Eventually, it's the teens' turn. The first one steps forward, trembling, and tries. Some manage to make the Pawn twitch or take a step; most do not.
Then, it's Leor's turn. A cold knot tightens in his stomach as the officer's eyes lock onto him.
"Step forward," the officer orders.
Leor hesitates, but slowly steps forward to stand before the Pawn. So this is a Pawn, he thinks, eyeing it warily. Its glowing eyes don't meet his—they stare past him, distant and empty, like it's lost in a dream.
The officer barks sharply. "Focus!"
Leor swallows hard, his breath shaky. He lifts his arms uncertainly and tries to command it to move. He focuses with all his might. Nothing. He tries again. And again. But the Pawn stands motionless, as still as a statue.
Frustration boils in Leor's chest, mixing with fear as he sees a soldier begin to approach. Each heavy step sends his heart pounding louder in his ears. He refuses to fail—he can't.
In a final, desperate push, Leor clenches his fists and screams silently in his mind. Move! Then, as the soldier draws closer, he thinks wildly, Stop him!
Suddenly, to everyone's shock, the Pawn jerks forward. Its arm shoots out and clamps around the soldier's neck. The entire courtyard falls into stunned silence.
Leor's focus sharpens instinctively. For a fleeting moment, it feels as if he can see through the Pawn's eyes—an alien, yet strangely familiar sensation. The soldier's face contorts in terror as the grip tightens, his hands clawing at the Pawn's arm.
But before Leor can fully grasp what he's doing, the officer charges at him and drives a boot into his chest. The kick knocks the breath from his lungs, and his connection to the Pawn snaps instantly.
The Pawn releases the soldier at once. The man collapses, gasping and stumbling backward, his eyes wild with shock as he fights for air.
Leor, struggling to catch his breath after the brutal kick, hears the officer bark sharply, "Take him to the others. Keep an eye on him."
A soldier steps forward, grabs Leor roughly by the arm, and drags him toward the side of the courtyard where the successful participants are gathered.
Leor staggers, one hand clutching his chest. Before he can fully steady himself, the soldier he had commanded the Pawn to attack suddenly lunges at him. With a vicious swing, the soldier punches Leor square in the face. The impact is sharp and jarring, sending Leor stumbling backward.
Another soldier rushes in, grabbing the furious man and pulling him away before he can strike again.
Leor wipes the blood from his split lip, his eyes locking onto the soldier with a blank, almost detached stare. On the surface, he looks unfazed—cold and silent. But inside, he's fighting to keep his tears from spilling, the sting of the blow burning deeper than just his skin.
The officer storms over and delivers a sharp slap across the soldier's face. "Enough," he snaps coldly. "Get back to work."
Leor and the others who passed the trial stand in tense silence, watching the last of the group take their turns. Navi stands beside him, her eyes still wide with lingering fear. During her trial, she had only managed to twitch the Pawn's fingers—but it had been enough to pass.
When the trials finally end, the failed participants are led back to their cells, while those who succeeded are ushered into new quarters. The teens are separated from the adults once again, herded into their own cell.
Leor touches his bruised cheek, wincing as pain shoots through it. He keeps his gaze low, his thoughts heavy and scattered.
Navi steps closer, holding out a small, smooth rock she must have found somewhere along the way. She presses it into his hand gently. "Hold this on your cheek," she says softly.
Leor hesitates, staring at the stone, then slowly lifts it to his face. The cold bites at his skin, easing the throbbing pain just enough to breathe again.
"The cold will help with the swelling," Navi murmurs, her voice barely above a whisper.
Leor gives a faint nod, unable to find words. Even so, a quiet understanding passes between them—an unspoken gratitude for this small act of kindness in a world that feels so merciless.
Leor sits quietly in the new cell, the weight of everything pressing down on him. Navi sits nearby, restless, but Leor keeps his gaze low, silent.
Suddenly, a boy with sharp green eyes steps forward. He's taller, older—his presence commanding and tense. Without hesitation, he fixes Leor with a hard stare.
"How did you do that?" the boy snaps, voice sharp and demanding. "No one else moved the Pawn like that. Who are you, really?"
Leor doesn't respond at first. He stays silent, face unreadable.
The boy's eyes flash with frustration. "Hey! I'm talking to you."
Before Leor can react, the boy roughly grabs him by the collar, pulling him close until Leor's breath catches. His tone hardens, pressing.
"You're going to tell me. How did you move it like that? What are you?"
Around them, the other teens fall silent, sensing the tension crackling in the air.
Leor's jaw tightens. After a moment, he finally whispers in a quiet, almost defeated tone, "I don't know."
Just as the boy's eyes narrow and he prepares to press further, a sharp voice calls from outside the cell.
"Shut up in there! Quiet!"
The boy glances toward the guard, then steps back reluctantly, releasing Leor's collar with a growl. The heavy tension lingers, but for now, the confrontation is broken.
Leor exhales slowly, rubbing the spot where the boy had grabbed him, his silence returning as the guard's footsteps fade.
Navi, her concern still clear in her soft voice, asks, "Are you okay?"
Leor gives a small, almost imperceptible nod, offering what little reassurance he can in the heavy silence.
The boy lets out a long, frustrated breath and runs a hand through his hair. Slowly, he sinks down onto the cold floor, eyes still locked on Leor, unreadable and intense.
Leor shifts uncomfortably, trying to push past the awkwardness settling between them. Around them, the other teens remain quiet, withdrawn, and the cell feels even heavier—laden with unspoken words and the weight of uncertainty.