Four creatures shuffled into the room. No taller than four feet, their wrinkled skin was etched with scars that seemed to weep blood even in the dim light. Tattered tunics hung from their frail frames, reduced to nothing more than rags. Their corpse-pale skin faintly glowed in the darkness, and dirty blindfolds wrapped around their eyes only deepened their eerie presence. From each of their backs jutted massive, grotesque growths, piercing through their worn tunics. Boils bubbled and burst on their skin, reforming in seconds-as if their bodies were locked in a ceaseless, torturous upheaval.
They moved in perfect unison, their bare feet silent against the floor. Cradled between them was a stone box, roughly the same size as their own bodies, carried with unnatural stiffness. The stench of filth and death trailed behind them like a noxious cloud, clinging to their very presence. But they were not the ones who drew my attention.
Behind them, a man entered - finely dressed in black, his slicked-back curly hair framing a face both handsome and cruel. His eyes glowed red in the shadows, swallowing the sparse light around him as he moved. At the sight of him, my thoughts froze, silenced as if caught under a spell - a spell shattered only by Nkosi's grip on my hand, not in comfort but in raw terror plastered across his face. Jayden, standing nearby, watched the newcomer with a mix of confusion and intrigue.
The creatures moved as one, setting the stone box on the floor before bowing low. The man stepped forward behind them. Then, without warning, one creature's boil erupted, spraying thick liquid onto the man's shoe.
He halted and fixed his gaze on the creature. Slowly, he raised a hand. In perfect synchronicity, the creature was lifted from the ground by an invisible force, its neck twisting unnaturally in a full 360-degree rotation before it collapsed lifelessly to the floor.
Two kneeling creatures behind the man lifted their heads slightly - only to be slammed back against the wall by the same otherworldly force, silence swallowing their cries.
"Look what you made me do," the man said with a chilling charm, a sadistic smirk twisting his lips. "Hard to find good slaves," he muttered, stepping toward the last creature - which dared not move.
Seeing its silence, he shifted direction and approached the stone box instead.
"You're no fun," he said, "but I guess that's why you've survived all these years."
As his hand neared the box, the stone lid slid open on its own. Before he could reach inside, the creature growled - low and feral - catching both him and us off guard.
"So much for loyalty," he sneered. Then he noticed the creature's growl was directed at something he hadn't yet seen: us.
Tilting his head toward the sound, his glowing red eyes locked onto us. Nkosi instinctively stepped back, pulling me with him. The man's gaze swept over us one by one - then fixed solely on me. And it never wavered.
He released the box and began moving toward us. With each step, reality seemed to bend; my vision blurred for a heartbeat. Then, in an instant, he was upon us - as if he had materialized from the very shadows themselves.
"Taleah," he breathed, eyes wide with recognition. Then his expression twisted into pure joy.
"It's you."
But behind that joy lurked something darker - a darkness deeper than a moonless night. A darkness that should never exist.
"Can I help you with something?" Jayden spoke, stepping slightly in front of me, partially shielding me from the man's gaze. His words echoed through the vast room, finally drawing the man's attention.
Marcus's smile faltered, and he turned his head slightly, acknowledging the boys for the first time.
"What does that concern you?" he asked, his voice flat, not bothering to meet their eyes. "Now move." There was an unmistakable authority and warning in his tone.
But the boys didn't budge.
"No, I think I'll stay right here," Jayden replied firmly, those words gathering Marcus's full attention.
"What powerful spirits you both have," Marcus said, eyeing them slowly. "You're in luck. I'm in need of new slaves. The last ones were... well, defective." He smirked, a sickly grin plastered across his face.
"We're good," Jayden began, but before he could finish, Nkosi suddenly released my hand-his body yanked forward by an unseen force. He floated in the air before Marcus like a puppet.
"Apologies," Marcus said, almost casually. "I probably should introduce myself. I am Marcus-Marcus Baylor. Your new lord."
As he spoke, Nkosi was flung violently across the auditorium, slamming into the wall with a sickening thud.
Jayden didn't hesitate. He charged forward, fist drawn back, but just before he could leap off the stage, his body froze in place, suspended mid-air. A heartbeat later, he was slammed to the ground, then lifted again, and smashed down once more.
"Your place will forever be at my feet, slave," Marcus said, grabbing Jayden by the hair, lifting his bloodied, unconscious face for me to see.
Then his gaze shifted-locking onto mine with an intensity that rooted me to the spot.
"Now, Taleah... where were we?"
His voice was low and husky, sending shivers crawling down my spine. He clearly thought I was this 'Taleah.'
Seeing the fear and confusion on my face, Marcus's grin only grew wider.
"Don't tell me you've forgotten your childhood friend," he whispered. "I honestly thought you'd perished all those years ago. But here you are, right in front of me. I didn't even have to look for you."
His glee was unmistakable.
He took a step forward. I took one back.
"Wait... don't tell me you've truly forgotten me," he said with a chuckle-but then he stopped, finally reading the fear in my eyes. I kept glancing between Marcus and Jayden, who lay unconscious beside him.
"Taleah," I heard him say, more softly now. "Look at me."
I didn't.
Then his voice erupted-an ungodly mix of growls, hisses, and other sounds that didn't belong in this world.
"Look at me!" he roared.
I panicked, backing away until my back hit the wall.
"Apologies," he said, composing himself once more. "It seems you may have forgotten who you are. That's okay," he added, his voice suddenly calm-as if nothing had happened.
Then his eyes lit up.
"I have an idea. What better way to jog your memory... than a little game?"
With a lift of his finger, Jayden's body rose to its knees-though clearly not by his own will. One of his eyes opened, barely, but I couldn't tell if he was conscious.
"Eleven," Marcus said suddenly.
One of the creatures stepped forward, head bowed. From its side, it pulled a dagger and offered it to Marcus, who took it with reverence-then flung it onto the stage.
"Pick it up," he said.
I hesitated.
"Do you want me to repeat myself?" he asked again, his tone sharpening.
I slowly bent down and did as I was told.
"Good girl," he cooed, his smile growing wider. "Now, the rules are simple. You can walk out of here... unharmed. Or your friends can. You just have to do one thing."
My grip on the dagger tightened.
"If you wish to leave," Marcus said, eyes gleaming, "you must end your friend right there."
He gestured toward Jayden.
"I'll let you walk away. But..."
His voice shifted, turning gleeful-twisted.
"If you want your friends to live instead, you'll have to stab yourself in the heart... or slit your own throat."
He grinned.
"So... what will it be?"