A cold shiver ran through his spine.
'This isn't a child's handwriting. Or if it is, then the boy was far darker than I thought. Whoever wrote this wasn't just afraid… they were consumed by vengeance. Was it the boy who owned this body? Or another who once hid here? And if someone swore to kill them all... did they succeed? Or did they fail and vanish, leaving only these words behind?'
creak…
The floor groaned beneath his feet.
He pressed the pigskin sheet flat on the table and stared at it until his eyes ached, then finally pushed it away.
'No use chasing ghosts. What I need now is certainty. If this really is another world, then I need to know where I am in it. I need a map, a geography book or anything that can point my location. If this child collected books, then maybe one of them holds the answers. I can't wander blind.'
He set the candle down, its flame bobbing weakly.
He moved to the stacks, running his fingers over uneven spines, pulling volumes aside in search of something with maps or names.
step… step…
!!
His blood froze. The sound was faint but clear—footsteps outside the thin wooden walls.
badump… badump… badump…
His heart pounded against his ribs. Instinct seized him before thought. He pinched the wick between his fingers, snuffing the flame with a soft hiss.
pshhht…
Darkness swallowed the room.
He clutched the book to his chest and crouched low, tucking himself into the narrow shadow beneath the table.
Breath shallow, he pressed his lips shut and listened.
'Who is it? Someone looking for this boy? Or… the kidnappers?'
The footsteps paused just beyond the door.
creaaaak…
The door pushed inward, slow and deliberate, and the hiss of rain outside spilled clearer into the room. The storm's chill air swept in, making the wooden walls groan softly.
He pressed himself tighter beneath the table, curling small fingers against the dirt floor, forcing his breath shallow.
step… step…
The boots were heavy, the sound too measured to belong to a child, too weighted to belong to anyone frail.
Each step echoed with authority, leather scraping against the floorboards.
'Those aren't the footsteps of someone lost. Whoever this is—they know where they're going. And if they're here… then they're searching. For what?'
He dared not move. Not a rustle, not a whisper. If he made the slightest sound, if he even shifted the wrong way, he felt certain the figure would hear it.
The door creaked again as it closed, sealing the room in darkness once more. The intruder's silhouette shifted faintly against the weak glimmer of moonlight slipping through the cracks.
badump… badump… badump…
His heart hammered so loud he was certain it would betray him.
A deep voice rolled through the dark, steady and cold.
"Don't hide. I can see you anyway."
Before he could even shift, the shadow lunged.
whoosh—
A hand like iron clamped around his collar and yanked him up as if he weighed nothing. His small legs kicked uselessly in the air.
His eyes widened in terror—he hadn't even seen the man move!
'What—? How can a human be this fast? He crossed the room in an instant… faster than my eyes could follow!'
The candle rattled off the table and fell, unlit, as the man's towering frame filled his vision. Nearly six feet, broad-shouldered, faceless in the darkness, his presence pressed like a mountain.
The boy's thoughts spiraled, panic burning through his veins. He opened his mouth, but no sound came... only a whisper of defiance in his mind.
'Damn it—!'
thud…
The blow came sudden, merciless. His world spun into black, consciousness slipping through his grasp like water through cupped hands.
The last thing he carried was the bitter taste of a curse swallowed in silence.
...
plip… plip… plip…
The steady drip of water echoed through the black space. The boy's eyelids fluttered, his vision a blur of shadows.
A cold, damp floor pressed against his cheek. His lips were cracked, his throat dry. His body felt brittle, every breath dragging like sand through his chest.
He groaned, thin arms twitching as he tried to lift himself.
'Why… why am I here? Where is this place? My body… it won't move properly!'
Every joint screamed. His ribs ached as if caged too tight within his skin.
His stomach twisted with a dull, gnawing emptiness that clawed at his insides. Hunger. Thirst. His very life ebbing with every second.
'I… I need water. I need food. If I stay here, I'll die.'
The faint sound of dripping pulled his attention.
plip… plip… plip…
Hope. Desperate, fragile hope. He dug his fingers into the cold stone and dragged himself forward.
His knees scraped against the rough floor, sending sharp stabs of pain through his legs.
thud… scrraaape…
'It hurts. Every move—it hurts. But I can't stop. Not here, not now. If I don't reach that sound, I'll wither away. Crawl… just crawl…'
Tears pricked the corners of his eyes, but he bit them back, grinding his teeth as he pulled his frail body across the dark.
'Hurt… hurt… it hurts! But if pain means I'm alive… then I'll endure it!'
His arms trembled as he dragged himself forward, each movement weaker than the last. Breath rasped in his throat, body begging him to stop.
'I… I can't… no—I have to. Just a little more.'
His hands struck against something solid. A wall—cold and uneven beneath his fingertips. He pressed both palms against it, tracing along its surface.
'Not smooth… jagged. These shapes… this isn't crafted by people. It's natural, rock formation. Then... if water is dripping, it must be running along these walls somewhere.'
He pressed his cheek against the damp stone, forcing himself to follow its ridges with his hands. Inch by inch, his body scraped forward.
His legs tingled with numbness, too weak to push, dragging behind him like dead weight.
plip… plip… plip…
Then he felt it. Tiny cool drops splattering across his knuckles. His heart thudded with desperate relief.
'Water! Here—it's here!'
He pressed his face to the wall, opening his mouth wide. His dry tongue flicked out, lapping at the thin stream as it slid down the jagged surface. It was slow, bitter with the taste of minerals.
He drank greedily, uncaring of how pathetic or unsightly he must have looked, his body pressed to the stone like a starving beast.
'Doesn't matter how. Doesn't matter if it's filthy. I need to survive. As long as I can drink... I can live another moment.'
The water ran thin, but each drop soothed the fire in his throat, keeping him clinging to the fragile thread of life.
plip… plip… plip…
He swallowed again, trembling. For the first time since waking, he felt a flicker of strength return.
His stomach still gnawed with hunger, but the water dulled the sharpest edge of his thirst.
He leaned his forehead against the cold wall, closing his eyes for a moment.
'Calm down. I can't panic. My body hurts, yes, but pain means I'm alive. I need to endure. I need to escape this place, no matter what.'
He pulled his hand from the wet stone, fingers slick with moisture.
A thought flickered in his weary mind, simple, primitive, but useful. He lifted his damp fingers into the air.
A faint whisper brushed against them. Cold. Subtle.
'The wind… there's air flowing in here. That means somewhere, somehow, there's an opening. A crack, a tunnel, something leading out. If I follow it, I might find a way to escape.'
He dragged himself back from the wall, chest heaving with the effort. He held his wet fingers higher, shifting his hand slowly, carefully.
Each time the chill grazed his skin, he turned toward it, adjusting his direction.
'It's faint… but it's there. That current of air is my guide. As long as I keep feeling it, I'll find where it leads.'
thud… scrape… thud…
His body protested with every crawl, muscles screaming, bones aching, but he clenched his teeth and forced himself forward.
His crawling slowed until his fingers brushed against a faint slit in the dark. He pressed closer, running his hands along it.
'A thin gap... The wind's coming through here.'
He slid his fingertips upward, following the frame. The texture changed... smooth, unyielding, and cold.
'Not stone. Metal. This isn't a natural passage… it's a door.'
His breath caught in his throat as the truth settled in.
'So I was right. This place is a cell. A prison for the kidnapped. But… why am I alone? If so many are taken, then where are the others? Earlier I made enough noise crawling to rattle the floor. Someone should have heard. Yet… nothing. Only silence.'
He tapped lightly at the metal, the faint echo swallowed quickly by the dark.
The structure felt solid, seamless. He probed the gap again, trying to slide his thin arm through.
His forearm jammed halfway, unable to go further.
He flexed his fingers desperately into the empty space on the other side, touching nothing but air.
'Nothing I can reach. Even if I forced my way in, there's nothing waiting to grasp. And if this is just one door… there could be more. I don't even know the true size of this room. It could be a chamber, a hall, or just a box.'
He let out a slow, shaky breath and pressed his back against the cold frame, lowering himself down.
His body screamed with exhaustion, every nerve aching from the crawl.
'So many possibilities. Too many unknowns. I'll gain nothing if I waste the last of my strength banging on this door.'
He let his head rest against the metal, the faint draft brushing against his cheek like the only reminder of freedom.
'For now… I'll stay here. Just for a moment. I need strength. If I want to escape… I need to think clearly, not panic blindly.'
The boy curled against the doorframe, his frail chest rising and falling in weary rhythm.