The kitchen tent felt stifling, the air thick with the smell of burned food and the crackle of the fire. Levi's hands moved mechanically, scrubbing the large pot as he tried to ignore the tightness in his chest. His mother worked silently beside him, stirring the soup with an absent look in her eyes. Her movements were slow, like she was running on fumes, but she kept pushing through, one stir after another.
Then it happened.
A loud clatter broke the monotony, and Levi's heart dropped into his stomach. His mother had dropped the ladle, the metal clanging against the stone hearth. It wasn't a huge sound, but in this quiet, tense atmosphere, it felt like a crack in the dam.
A few seconds later, the tent flap was thrown open, and Rusk entered with his usual sneer. The other guard, a lanky one with a scar down his face, followed behind.
"Damn it," Rusk growled, his eyes flicking to the spilled soup. "You know better than this."
Levi froze, hands still on the pot, watching his mother's face pale in the flickering firelight. He could see the tension in her shoulders, the way she stiffened. She wasn't going to argue. She never did anymore.
But Levi couldn't just stand there. His chest tightened as he saw the guards' eyes narrowing on his mother.
"Apologies, sir," she said quietly, her voice steady. "The fire's been weak, and the stock is running low. I'll get it cleaned up right away." Rusk wasn't having it. His lip curled in disgust. "You're lucky we even feed you, woman. You don't get to mess up like this."Levi's stomach turned, but he said nothing. His mother's voice was soft, apologetic, as usual. But inside, Levi could feel the fury building. She didn't deserve this. Without thinking, he stepped forward, his voice low but firm. "She's trying her best. You don't need to—" The words hadn't even fully left his mouth when Rusk turned his eyes on him, cold and calculating. The air seemed to freeze. He took a step toward Levi, eyes gleaming with menace.
"You've got something to say, boy?" Rusk's voice was quiet, too quiet. Levi's blood ran cold. Levi stood still, his pulse racing. He'd spoken out before, but this was different. Rusk was already furious. He could feel the tension in his chest, but his hands were steady. If he kept his head down, if he just— But then Rusk's hand shot out, grabbing Levi by the arm. "Come with me," he snarled, dragging him toward the tent flap.Levi tried to pull back, but the guard's grip was iron. "What are you doing?" Levi hissed, struggling. The other guard, the one with the scar, stepped forward, grinning. "Rusk's not a fan of people talking back," he said in a mocking tone. "You should've kept quiet, boy." Levi's heart pounded in his chest, panic setting in as he realized what was happening. He'd made a mistake—an irreversible one. His body reacted before his mind could catch up. He twisted and tried to wrench his arm free, but the guards were too strong.
"Let go!" Levi snarled, his feet dragging against the dirt floor as they pulled him out of the tent.
They shoved him through the camp with little care, each step taking him farther from his mother, farther from the only shred of safety he had. He could hear the soft sounds of the other slaves—their whispers, their fearful eyes—before they were all drowned out by the harsh voices of the guards.
"Where are you taking me?" Levi demanded, voice shaking but defiant.
Rusk didn't answer. Instead, he shoved him roughly into the dirt, making him stumble. The guards didn't care that Levi was just a boy. They never had.
They brought him to the center of the camp, where the light from the fire and lanterns cast long shadows across the dirt. The air felt heavier here, as if the very ground had soaked up the suffering of everyone who had ever been dragged into this place. Levi's heart raced as the realization hit him—he was going to be punished. This wasn't just a warning.
"You talk back to me again, and I'll show you what happens," Rusk growled, his eyes wild with anger. He took a step back, and the other guard stepped forward, holding something in his hands. Levi's stomach dropped. The other slaves were watching from a distance, eyes wide with fear, but no one moved.
The guard raised the lash.
Levis pulse thundered in his ears as the sound of the crack echoed through the night. The first strike burned across his back, the leather biting into his skin, and a scream was torn from him before he could stop it.
The guards didn't stop. They didn't care if he was just a boy. They didn't care if he was weak, trembling, or alone.
Another strike landed. Levi gritted his teeth, trying not to show the pain, but it was too much. His body buckled under the force of it. His back felt like it was on fire, and he couldn't think, couldn't breathe. He had to make it stop.
"Please," he whispered, the word slipping from his lips before he could stop it. "Please… I didn't mean to…"
But the guards didn't care. The lash came down again, and again, until Levi's legs gave out from under him and he collapsed to the ground, gasping for air.
"Enough," Rusk finally ordered, his voice thick with satisfaction. He kicked Levi in the ribs, sending a fresh wave of pain through his body. "Next time, boy, you'll remember who owns you."
Levi lay on the ground, breathing heavily, tears mixing with the dirt beneath him. He could feel the blood trickling down his back, his limbs numb and trembling.
Levi struggled to catch his breath, his chest heaving with each ragged inhale. The pain was a throbbing, unrelenting burn that seemed to stretch from his back to his entire body. His fingers twitched against the dirt, but his mind felt foggy—too much pain, too much fear, too much helplessness. He didn't have the strength to move, but he had to. The punishment would only escalate if he didn't comply.
Rusk's boot came down hard on his ribs, and Levi gasped as the air was knocked out of him. His whole body screamed for rest, for relief, but that was never an option here.
"Get up," Rusk spat, the command sharp as a knife. "Grab that rock and start walking."
Levi's vision blurred for a moment as he pushed himself to his hands and knees, tasting blood and dirt. His body was trembling, but he managed to lift his head and look in the direction Rusk was pointing. A large, jagged rock lay a few feet away, just within reach.
The weight of it made his stomach churn. He had no choice but to obey. His muscles screamed in protest, his bones creaking with the effort, but he forced himself to stand, shakily. He staggered toward the rock, feeling each step like it was being carved into his skin. The other slaves around the camp were watching—some with their heads lowered, others with eyes full of sorrow. But none of them dared interfere.
Levi bent down, gritting his teeth as his back flared with pain. His hands were shaking as he lifted the rock. It was heavier than it looked, sharp edges digging into his palms, but he managed to hold it up, his arms trembling with the effort.
"Good," Rusk said, the cruel approval in his voice as he watched Levi struggle.
"Now start walking. And don't drop it, or I'll make sure you remember this night. Every time you falter, you'll get a reminder of your place, as well as that whore mother of yours."
Levi's legs burned with each agonizing step, but he didn't dare stop. He couldn't. Not now. Not when he could feel the weight of the rock dragging at his arms, the jagged edges digging into his palms like it was part of him—an unrelenting reminder of his place. The pain from the lashings still stung across his back, each step making it worse. But he couldn't focus on that. He had to focus on the rock. Every time he felt his legs falter, every time his arms trembled from the weight, the thought of his mother's face flashed through his mind. If he dropped the rock—if he faltered, even for a second—she would feel it. She would be the one to suffer. The lashings would come down on her back instead of his.
He couldn't let that happen.
As he walked, the light from the campfires cast flickering shadows on the dirt, and the whispers of the other slaves filled the night air. Some of them watched in silence, their expressions a mix of pity and fear, but none of them dared speak up. None of them dared, But there was someone else watching him. She stood by the edge of the camp, her dark eyes fixed on him as he staggered past. Sera. Her lips were pressed into a thin line, her fists clenched as she stood in the shadows, her gaze following him The rock in his hands felt heavier with each passing moment. Sweat dripped down his forehead, stinging his eyes, but he refused to blink. He could hear Rusk's voice in the background, mocking him, but it was distant now—drowned out by the pounding in his head and the gnawing ache in his muscles.
His feet were dragging, each step slower than the last. He could feel the burn in his legs, could feel the tremor in his arms as they struggled to hold the rock up. His body was exhausted, his mind foggy with pain, but he kept moving.
"Drop it, and I'll make sure your mother gets what she deserves," the voice of the guard echoed in his mind, his words a constant reminder of what would happen if Levi failed.
Sera's gaze never wavered as he walked past her, her eyes dark and calculating. He didn't know what she was thinking—if she was pitying him or if she was wondering just how far he could go before he finally broke. But he didn't dare look at her. He couldn't.
The weight of the rock felt like it was crushing him from the inside out. His vision blurred, and his feet stumbled over the uneven ground. The pain was unbearable, but he couldn't stop. He couldn't let it fall. He made it to the far side of the camp, his legs like jelly beneath him, but he kept walking. The guards were still watching, their eyes gleaming with satisfaction. Levi's heart hammered in his chest. Every step he took felt like it might be his last.
And then, just as he reached the farthest point of the camp, he stumbled. His foot caught on a stone, and for a split second, the world seemed to slow down. His arms shook, the rock teetering in his hands.
He didn't let it fall.
But Sera had seen it. She had seen him falter. She had seen the way his body was breaking under the weight of it When he finally made it around the camp, his whole body was soaked with sweat, his face pale with exhaustion. His arms were shaking so badly that he thought the rock might slip from his grasp. But he still didn't drop it. He wouldn't.
Rusk was still watching, his arms crossed and a satisfied smirk on his face. "Well done, boy. But remember, it's only a matter of time before you'll break."
Levi didn't respond. He couldn't. His breath was ragged, his body ached beyond belief, but he refused to give them the satisfaction of seeing him break.
"Take it back," Rusk ordered.Levi turned, heart pounding. His legs were threatening to give out beneath him, but he made himself take another step, dragging his body back toward the place he'd started. The rock felt impossibly heavy now, its jagged edges digging into his hands like shards of glass. He felt the weight of his situation, the crushing, suffocating feeling of being nothing more than a tool for their amusement.
But he still kept going.
The moment he reached the center of the camp again, Rusk waved his hand dismissively. "That'll be enough. For now."Levi collapsed to his knees the second Rusk turned away, the rock thudding into the dirt beside him. His arms were trembling violently, blood smearing his palms where the jagged edges had bitten deep. His breath came in short, painful bursts. But he didn't cry. Not in front of them.
The guards didn't even spare him another glance.
"Back to work," one of them barked to no one in particular, as if the beating hadn't just happened.
Levi forced himself up. Every muscle in his body screamed, but he bit down on the pain and moved. If he stayed on the ground too long, they'd find a reason to hit him again—or worse, shift the punishment to his mother.
The morning sun was rising fast now, casting harsh light over the sand-packed camp. Tents fluttered in the hot breeze. The usual murmur of labor returned: slaves pulling down canvas, loading crates, checking bridles and carts. The caravan was packing up. They were moving again—another outpost, another desert town. Another place to be sold, discarded, or forgotten. Levi staggered toward the supply tent, still gripping his side where Rusk had kicked him. The ache in his ribs was sharp, but not broken. Bruised, maybe. He could work with bruised.
"Move faster, boy!" someone snapped behind him. He didn't turn.
As he passed the slave cages on his way to grab the empty water skins, he saw her. Sera. She was still locked in the iron-bar cage, sitting with her knees pulled up, arms looped loosely around them. Her hair was tangled from the sand, and a thin cut ran along her cheekbone, but her eyes—those stayed sharp. Alert. Watching everything.
And they were on him.
She'd seen it all. The rock. The lashings. The way he'd kept walking, bleeding, under the guards' cruel orders. Now, even with iron bars between them, she looked at him like he wasn't just another slave.
Levi didn't stop walking. He couldn't afford to. But their eyes met for the briefest second.
Her lips pressed into a tight line.
Then she gave a single, subtle nod.Not pity.
Not thanks.
Just… acknowledgment.
He looked away first, forcing himself to focus on the task. Rope. Skins. Load the crates. Don't fall behind. Don't draw attention. The same routine. The same rules. His back ached with every movement, the open lashes stinging where sweat dripped into them. He didn't flinch.
They were moving out soon. He could feel it in the energy of the camp—the tension, the urgency, the way the guards barked louder than usual, their eyes sharper.
They were leaving.
And wherever they were going next, Levi knew the rules would be the same. But something had shifted.
Someone had seen him. And remembered.