The morning after the spark incident, Ray awoke to a chill that had nothing to do with the cold metal of his chains. Whispers slithered through the chamber like shadows. Captives who had once avoided him now stared with suspicion, fear, or envy.
"Look who thinks he's special," a tall man sneered, shoving Ray roughly. Others laughed behind him, eyes glinting with malice. Ray stumbled but steadied himself, resisting the urge to lash out. The blue energy that had erupted yesterday simmered beneath his skin, eager, restless, but he forced it down.
Liora approached quietly, her hand brushing his arm. "Don't let them get to you," she whispered. "They're scared…maybe more scared than you are."
Scared or not, the other captives began to make life unbearable. Tasks that had once been manageable became trials of humiliation. Ray was assigned the dirtiest corners of the ship, mocked for every mistake, ridiculed for every hesitation. Every insult, every shove, every whispered rumor was like a hammer striking at his mind.
And yet, something deep inside refused to break. Each time a chain rattled in defiance, each spark that lingered in his veins, reminded him he was not like the others. He didn't belong here—not really. But for now, he had to survive. And survive he would, for Liora's sake, for his own, and for the secret he could not yet remember.