It's been past four days since I mysterious arrived at this strange world, four days since I found myself a captive of slave traders, forced to march down dusty road and sleep on cold hard ground.
Four days of struggling to accept that this… was now my reality.
In that time, I've managed to gather a handful of knowledge about this world and how it works. Surprisingly, it's from Earth, except magic exist where technology should.
From what I can tell, this world hasn't evolved much in terms of infrastructure, if anything, they seem stuck in the medieval era.
Unlike Earth separated by continent and countries, human civilization here are divided among kingdoms, nations and federations, each ruled under its own monarchy.
We were headed toward THORNGUARD, the capital city of TENARIA, one of the largest and most populated kingdom in the human domain. Rumor had it, that was where we would be sold.
After four grueling days of travel, we were now half a day away from the city, with the arrival time set noon tomorrow.
We had just arrived at the border way, a checkpoint several miles before reaching the main gate of Thornguard. The journey had uneventful so far, until now.
Without warning the carriage came to a sudden stop. The horses neighed anxiously and slowly began to back away, refusing to take another step forward. Their eyes were wide with fear, their hooves trembling. It was as though something unseen was stopping them from proceeding. Their neighs carried undeniable trace of fear and warning.
Yet the road ahead was clear. No sigh of danger, bandits, wild beast or storm on the horizon.
So what were they afraid of? No one knew, but everyone knew better than to ignore the fearful neigh of a horse. Everyone was high on alert, the slave traders locating their weapons as they got off the carriage circling up around the carriage. Their eyes scanning around the desert area awaiting the worst.
The moment that followed were still and quiet, just sound of dry wind sweeping hard against the desert sand.
"Urgh!" A sudden, sharp grunt caught everyone off guard, drawing their attention to one of the slave traders who had somehow dropped unconscious. Another collapsed, then a third followed.
What was going on, who was attacking? No one knew, only blurs of black flickered in and out of sight. Before anyone could scream or grip firmly their weapons, they were struck. One by one they collapsed, chocked grunts and thuds filled the air. It happened in seconds, swift, silent and precise.
Then as the dust settled and silence reclaimed the scene, several hooded figure flickered into existence. They stood over the unconscious bodies of the slave trader sprawled at their feet. No one saw where they came from, no one dared move. We witness it happened afraid and yet relieved. Who were these mysterious figures? What was their purpose? Did they come to save us? Has our prayer for freedom been answered? Multiple unanswered questioned flowed in, clouding our thoughts as we took solace within the carriage.
By the time the slave traders had come through they had already been captured, tied up, and stripped of their weapons.
"Stasis Chain, designed to absorb and dissipate all momentum, locking whatever it binds into total stasis." One of the hooded figure said, motioning to the slave traders when he noted they were awake.
"And if you're smart you'll know trying to break free is pointless" He added, slowly approaching them.
"That said, there's an artifact that was supposed to be traveling with you. Where is it? The spark of creation." He pressed, his voice low and demanding, now standing before the helpless, defenseless slave traders.
"An artifact? What artifact? We are only slave traders, all we have in our possession are those slaves and coin, nothing more. We haven't heard of any artifact I swear it.
One of the hooded figure stepped forward, hood low, eyes glowing faintly in the shadows.
"The Oracle foresaw it, She saw the artifact traveling with your group. And the oracle is never wrong." the figure spoke up.
The slave trader laughed weakly, though his voice shook.
"Then I'm afraid your Oracle is blind. We carry nothing but slaves, food and coin. I swear on my life." He replied.
"You would dare insult the oracle?" The hooded figure replied his voice growing louder, carrying traces of anger.
"No I didn't mean to." The slave trader quickly replied.
"No matter, I'm going to make you talk one way or another." He said approaching further his hand now glowing as he pressed it against the head of the slave trader.
One by one, he would use some kind of psychics magic on them, scanning through their brain and memory for any traces of this artifact. But in the end nothing changed, no trace of the artifact could be found.
"Useless." Finally, the leader of the cloaked figure sighed, and in a single strike, all the slave traders dropped to the ground dead.
The silence that followed was heavier than before.
"What do we do about them?" The youngest of the cloaked group said motioning to us, the slaves who were adopted by the slave trader.
"Leave them be, they're not our concern." The leader of the cloaked figure replied, turning his back to leave.
One of the hooded figure stopped him, placing her hand on his shoulder as she drew closer to talk.
"If we leave them here, they'll starve to death, worst they might get devoured by wild life. At least with the slave traders, some of them might have been sold and survived." She explained.
"Then let's signal the royal guard or better the guild, they'll come to their rescue." He replied.
"No, they've seen us. Surely the royal guard and guild would interrogate them as to what had happen. We cant risk them exposing our existence. You know what that means for the church?"
"Then we kill them now along sides the slave traders. No witnesses, no risks." The leader replied, looking back at us from over his shoulder.
"I concur." One of the cloaked figure added in support.
"Wait. remember, the oracle never specified that the slave traders would be in possession of the artifact, he said it would be travelling with them. What if one of the slaves holds the artifacts or perhaps the key to finding it? If we kill them, we may destroy our only chance to find the spark." One of them motioned.
"Then what do you suggest?" the leader questioned.
"Take them back to the church, let the church decide their fate." He replied.
"Are you insane, you're asking me to take them to the church? Have you forgotten our number one rule?" The leader questioned in shock.
"Its the only option we have and besides…" he replied before drawing closer to whisper something in the leaders ear.
With the slave traders dead, the slaves crest on our body began to fade, disappearing without any trace. However, with the presence of these cloaked figures our safety still wasn't assured.
At first I thought they had come to save us when the slaver traders were taken down and the slave crest disappear. I almost felt relief. Almost. But then I saw their faces, calm, merciless, not the faces of saviors, but of executioners.
They spoke of an artifact, the spark of creation, but what could this artifact be? I couldn't help wonder, that's when a terrifying thought came. What if, just what if the artifact they seek was that darn box? If so what does that mean for me? I couldn't help but think.
That's when I met the leaders gaze, as he looked back at us from behind his shoulder as he suddenly began to approach us, with the others following behind.
Cold sweat ran down my back at the thought of what they were going to do with us. But then, my vision blurred, my eye lid grew heavy as a sudden wave of drowsiness crept in.
I tried to stay awake, tried to cling to consciousness, even going as far as biting my tong hard, but all to no avail as the last thing I saw was the cloaked figures closing in on us before everything went dark.