It's dark
The only trace of light in the room slipped through the seams of a massive steel door, thin and pale, barely enough to touch the stone floor.
The bars of the cages barely caught that dim glow, their cold metal glistening weakly in the darkness.
Beyond it, pairs of eyes glimmered in the black: some wide and restless, others narrowed to predatory slits.
A few lacked pupils altogether, glowing like blank orbs adrift in the void.
What is this smell…?
It clawed at his senses, sharp and invasive. The sting of rusted iron hung heavy in the air, layered with the bitter tang of dried blood and rotting flesh.
He looked around, and only then noticed the figure lying behind him in the same cage.
At first, it seemed enormous — a giant sprawled lifeless against the iron bars, crimson fur dulled and matted with blood, stark patches of white marking the forearms, paws, ears, and the tip of a thick, heavy tail.
For a moment he could only stare, overwhelmed by its sheer size. But then, glancing down at himself, the thought struck with a chill: it wasn't that the figure was too big. He was small.
His own body was just a miniature reflection of that form — the same crimson coat, the same tail, the same shape of limbs… only smaller, softer, and lacking the pale white marks that adorned hers.
I think it is my mother… actually, was.
Her body was cold and slack, limbs heavy where they had fallen. No breath stirred her chest, and a foul odor seeped from the corpse.
At that moment, a low thoom could be heard.
The distant boom rolled through the air, making the stone walls shiver. Dust sifted down as tiny fragments of rock broke loose from the ceiling and scattered across the floor.
From the cages came a faint stir — suppressed growls, beasts standing, pacing restlessly in the cramped space.
Then again — thoom.
This time louder, closer, the vibration creeping through the floor and up the iron bars.
Thoom.
The noise grew even louder, until the beasts could no longer contain themselves and started to roar.
Some hurled their weight against the bars, others clawed and snapped at the empty air, the rattling of metal filling the chamber.
Then, suddenly, silence.
The beasts froze mid-motion, their roars fading into low, uncertain growls.
...
THOOM!
The roof crumbled, loose stone breaking free and crashing down in a rain of dust and shards. Stones struck the iron cages with sharp clangs.
The cub shrank back against the bars, eyes wide as the dust swirled through the chamber.
Through the haze, he saw it — a crack in the ceiling bleeding light into the dark, pooling on the floor like the spotlight of a grand stage.
At its center knelt a man — tall, muscular, long white hair hanging wild around his face.
His clothes were little more than rags, a tattered pair of pants torn down to shorts, leaving his scarred body bare to the glow.
Both fists were planted against the ground, braced above another man sprawled beneath him, motionless on the stone floor.
The man remained there, shoulders heaving with each ragged breath. Sweat and dust clung to his skin, his chest rising and falling like a bellows on the verge of breaking.
Yet he didn't move.
Around him, the chamber erupted. The beasts screamed in unison, a deafening chorus of roars and shrieks that shook the cages.
Iron rattled under the assault, claws scraped against metal, and the air itself seemed to vibrate with their frenzy.
Then, cutting through the uproar, came a sound from the steel door.
Knock. Knock.
Simple. Ordinary. Out of place.
Yet the echo it left behind was wrong — not the ringing strike of metal, but a hollow thud of wood.
The man slowly turned his head toward the door.
Knock. Knock. Knock.
Each strike pressed harder, as if insisting, until at last it was joined by a voice.
"Luck..."
The handle rattled. A slow, deliberate twist scraped against the silence, though the lock held firm.
"Open up..." the voice pressed, closer now. "I know you're in there."
The handle shook once more, metal groaning under the strain.
The white-haired man pushed himself to his feet.
He gave no answer, no sign of acknowledgment, standing tall and silent, like the marble statue of a distant god.
"…Fine," the voice muttered. "Forget it. I found the key."
A soft clink followed.
What is this…? This can't be right.
The door creaked open — not with the harsh grind of steel, but with the long, splintering groan of wood.
No figure stood beyond it. Only light.
A blinding glow poured through the widening gap, spilling across the cages, drowning the roars, swallowing dust, stone, and shadow alike until nothing of the chamber remained...
For a heartbeat, there was only white.
...
Luck jolted awake, breath ragged.
He was sitting on his bed, sheets tangled around his legs, the faint starlight seeping through the window gap settling him back into the small, familiar room.
His red bandana was still in place. He hadn't taken it off to sleep.
"What was that… a dream? Again… must've been Red's memory."
The creak of wooden steps reached his ears — someone was coming up the stairs.
The young man frowned, rubbing his temples. "Who the hell's barging in this early…?"
A shadow filled the doorway.
A man stepped into view — neatly kept black hair and emerald eyes gleaming in the dim light.
His jaw was sharp, clean-shaven, every line of his face set with firmness.
Luck's eyes widened.
"Uncle Kaj?"