The first thing Thaddeus felt was stone.
Cold. Damp. Uneven beneath his back. He opened his eyes slowly to find himself lying in the mouth of a cave. Above him, the ceiling rose into blackness — an endless maw swallowing whatever dared to rise.
He didn't move at first.
His body ached. Like he'd been crushed under weight and stitched back together with wire. His breath trembled as it left his lungs, and every inhale made his ribs sting.
Still, he stood.
There were no markings. No voices. No answers.
Only the cave endless in every direction so… he walked.
His bare footsteps echoed softly on the stone floor as the hours passed.
Or maybe it was less. Or more. Time wasn't right here the air didn't move. There was no sun to mark its passing, only shadows that bent in unnatural ways. The silence wasn't just quiet — it listened.
Thaddeus kept walking. What would he find in this place?
He imagined monsters, maybe a serpent the size of a train tunnel, coiled and waiting for him in the dark. Or maybe a horde — undead, flesh-eating, bones grinding together as they clawed over each other just to tear him apart.
His chest tightened at the thought. But he kept walking.
Eventually… something changed.
He froze. There was a sound — faint, crackling — like dry wood catching fire he crouched low.
The fire's glow flickered from beyond a rock formation ahead, Quiet,Warm, alive.
creeping forward, he pressed himself against the stone and peeked around three people.
Sitting around a small fire, its flames reflecting off the damp cave walls.
An old man with thick, white brows and a long mustache stroked his beard as he warmed his hands. Across from him sat a girl, maybe a few years older than Thaddeus, her sword resting in her lap. She leaned back against the stone wall, half-dozing but still alert. And to the side, a boy — lean, younger than the girl — stared into the flames like they were hypnotizing him, eyes heavy with sleep.
Thaddeus didn't move.
He was still deciding whether they were real then the old man spoke.
"You can come out, young man. We won't hurt you."
The girl sat up sharply, eyes narrowing. The boy blinked, confused, and looked around. Clearly neither of them had noticed Thaddeus was even there.
He hesitated. But the voice… it was calm. Gentle.
With slow steps, Thaddeus emerged from behind the rock, hands raised he moved carefully toward the fire, the flickering light revealing his battered body, cuts ran across his arms his shirt was torn. His knuckles bruised, his skin streaked with dirt and blood.
No wonder his body ached the warmth of the fire hit him like a wave he lowered himself to the ground just outside their circle.
"…Thank you," he said, voice hoarse.
Silence followed only the sound of water dripping from the cave ceiling, touching the floor in slow rhythm the boy beside him nudged him gently with a flask.
"You thirsty?"
Thaddeus nodded, took it politely — meaning to sip but the moment the water touched his lips, instinct took over he drank all of it in a few desperate gulps.
The three of them stared. Thaddeus lowered the flask, embarrassed.
"…Sorry. Guess I was more thirsty than I thought."
The old man chuckled, brushing ash from his coat. "No worries. There's a clean river just down the slope. We can fill it again in the morning." He reached into a bag and offered a small piece of bread.
"You hungry, too?"
Thaddeus took it. "Thank you… again."
They waited patiently as he ate, the girl watching him quietly, the boy's eyes already drifting back toward the fire.
Once the bread was gone and the silence returned, the old man's gaze narrowed slightly.
"So," he said. "How'd you get away?", Old man asked "…Get away?"
The old man gestured toward Thaddeus's hands and ankles.
Thaddeus looked down — and froze, Chains.
Not long ones, just rusted shackles, tight against his skin, like manacles he had long forgotten.He stared, stunned. How hadn't he noticed?
The girl spoke softly for the first time. "It's alright. You were a slave."She looked away, back to her sword. "We've come across a few. We don't judge."
A long silence followed. The fire dimmed as its wood burned down.
One by one, they lay back against the stone, wrapping themselves in rough cloth and cloaks. The girl curled up, sword resting on her chest. The old man sat still for a while longer, then leaned back and closed his eyes. The boy volunteered to take first watch.
But not Thaddeus. He sat there in the near-darkness, listening to the fire crackle, the water drip, and the low breathing of strangers.
He couldn't sleep.
Something in him refused to not here, not yet, until he knew where he was, who they were — what this place really wanted from him.
What's a few more sleep-deprived days? He clenched his fists, the rusty chains cold against his skin.
There would be no rest.
Not yet.