The air hung heavy with the scent of brine and smoke, a pungent mix that clung to the cobblestone streets of Port Hane. The town, nestled between towering cliffs and a churning, emerald sea, was a haven for sailors, merchants, and adventurers alike.
Cobblestone streets, slick with brine and the occasional splash of spilled ale, wound their way through the town, leading to bustling taverns and smoky shops filled with exotic wares.
In one of those streets, some crews from a commercial ship were unloading barrels that looked like they were filled with fishes. The crews were loading those barrels inside a wagon, and when the barrels were fully loaded the crew captain patted the back of the wagon rider and handed him some coins.
"Don't bring us trouble, yeah?"
"Understood, boss. I'll deliver these in pristine condition," the wagon rider toothily replied, though one of his front teeth was missing.
The wagon rider easily maneuvered through the port town. The streets were filled with people but he efficiently rode around them. The sky was also turning dark, foretelling the oncoming rain.
"Tch. I was hoping to arrive there before the rain."
The rain was an inconvenience for the wagon rider since the streets became muddy and the wheels of his transportation easily got stuck on those. It would have been an easy delivery if the address given to him was in the middle of Port Hane, but alas it just had to be on the outskirts of the port town.
"Man I should have asked for more money, this job is nowhere near the amount I'm being paid for," he muttered to himself bitterly.
Being in the business of human trafficking was a risky endeavour. One wrong move and you would have been executed at the order of the royal court.
Someone caught you putting bodies inside a barrel because your wagon got stuck in a pothole and one of those barrels just happened to pour all of its contents out? Yeah to the guillotine it is.
Since there was nothing he could do about it though, he continued towards the designated address while grumbling resentfully. Soon after, rain was pouring down on Port Hane. While the middle of the town was paved with cobblestones, the same cannot be said for the outskirts of the town where roads were just an open area carved simply for the pedestrians and the infrequent supply carts.
Just as he thought, the wagon stuck to one of the huge puddles formed in the middle of the muddy road. It must have been a pothole filled with mud after the downpour since the wheels were stuck quite deep and the wagon was dangerously tilted on one side.
"I knew this was going to happen!!" He cursed loudly in the middle of the road, his voice echoing through the nearby woods.
He hurriedly went and adjusted his wagon but to his dismay, one barrel happened to roll into the puddle pouring its content out.
"Fuck!!"
He quickly grabbed the boy that popped out of the barrel and shoved him inside, swift in his actions while continuously looking around for anyone who might have seen him.
Making sure that no one was in the area, he hurriedly pushed his wagon out of the puddle and rode towards his destination. A smug satisfaction settled over him, a silent pat in the back for managing to get out of that situation without causing any trouble.
On one of the trees in the wood perched a raven with blood-red eyes, watching every single move of the wagon rider as closely as it could.
__________________
Cale woke to the groan of strained wood above him.
His first breath came shallow and ragged, like his lungs were trying to decide if they still remembered how to work. There was a weight in his chest—panic, maybe, or pain—and for a moment, he didn't dare move. His head pounded in a steady rhythm, and every nerve in his body buzzed like he was still falling.
The smell hit him next. It was wrong. Sour sweat. Damp timber. Something wet and old, like mold and unwashed bodies pressed too close together for too long. His eyes cracked open. The ceiling above was warped with age, beams bowed and stained with water and something darker. Dust floated in the thin rays of sunlight seeping through the cracks.
His pulse jumped. Where was he?
Cale tried to sit up—and immediately regretted it. A stab of pain shot through his ribs, sharp enough to make him gasp. He collapsed back onto the cold, packed earth floor, wheezing.
He blinked hard, and the rest of the room came into view.
It was worse than he'd feared.
The house looked like it was moments from collapse. Every wallboard was rotted, curling at the edges with age and moisture. Moss crept up the corners. The light that filtered in wasn't enough to brighten anything—just made the darkness more visible.
Then he saw them.
Children.
Scattered like forgotten dolls. Boys, girls, some hardly older than toddlers, others closer to his age. Around twenty in total. They didn't move. Didn't speak. Their eyes were open, but unfocused. Like they weren't really there at all.
A spike of cold bloomed in his chest.
He wasn't alone.
The memory returned in a sudden rush. The docks. Seren. The ship. The needle. Emis' voice.
He quickly darted his eyes around, looking for his two dear friends. But they were nowhere to be found.
This is odd. Emis told me they were taken inside the ship.
No matter how hard Cale thought about the things that had happened, he couldn't shake off this one feeling. The feeling that was starting to grow inside him — the possibility of Emis telling him a lie. If not, his current situation made no sense.
Then, as if waiting for the right moment, his mind suddenly conjured up the conversations he had with his parents regarding his bloodline.
He shot a hand to his wrist.
The mark was there, dark against his pale skin, pulsing faintly.
A door creaked. Cale turned his head slowly toward the sound.
A man entered—a brute of a figure, shoulders too wide for the doorway. His face was pocked with old scars and knotted flesh, like his bones had rearranged to make room for violence. A heavy wooden club rested lazily across his shoulder.
The man swept his gaze across the children with open contempt. "Still breathing, huh?"
No one answered.
He grunted, spat on the floor near a small girl who didn't flinch, and turned. The door groaned shut behind him.
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Time blurred. Cale measured the days by how often the light shifted through the boards and how many times the guards entered. The food came once every so often—always the same: cold broth, crusted bread, and the vague taste of rot.
There were five guards in all. Each worse than the next. One hummed while beating the older kids. Another stared without blinking. One laughed when the youngest cried. Monsters masquerading as men.
Cale kept quiet. He watched. He waited. He learned. It was the only thing he could do.
Except for the fact that now he was in a contract with a Yvelin. But Cale was in a complete dark on how to use this newfound power of his.
Emis had always just talked to him in his mind, but what about him? Should Cale just concentrate very hard trying to communicate with Emis? Cale was at a loss. His parents had never got the chance to teach him about these aspects of their power.
This was why Cale wanted to be as inconspicuous as possible till the day he figured out how it all works. His plan was going well—
Until the second day.
One of the younger boys had thrown up in the night. By morning, the smell filled the room. A guard kicked Cale toward it, shoved a rag and bucket in his hands.
He did not want to do the work, in fact, he was disgusted. This was the kind of thing that made him want to throw up as well. If only he were in his home, he would not have to put up with any of this.
But alas! He wasn't. So he gritted his teeth and cleaned.
The thickset guard—the one with the face like bruised fruit—returned midway through, leaning against the wall and watching. Muttering something. Waiting.
Cale said nothing.
"I said, you deaf, boy?"
He didn't look up.
The guard stomped forward, grabbed him by the collar, and yanked him to his feet. "You got wax in your ears?"
Seeing the guard's face, as well as him forced to do a work he abhors — right then, something inside Cale snapped.
"I heard you," Cale said, his voice cold. "Didn't sound like you were worth answering."
The man's eyes darkened.
Wrong words.
The blow came fast. The wall faster. Cale slammed into it, pain detonating across his back and ribs.
"You want to act brave?" the guard snarled. "Let's see how brave you scream."
He raised the club—
And the front door burst open.