"Oy! Bastard! Wake up!" One of the soldiers kicked Victor awake with a gleam in his eyes.
Victor flinched in pain as he slowly opened his eyes, the morning rays falling on his dull red irises. Pushing himself off the floor, he winced as he sat upright, pulling his legs closer. His hand was rubbing the side of his chest, where a deep purple swollen bruise nested.
"Heh! Won't we reach the rift by the end of the day?!" Mark, the scar-faced soldier, sneered as he walked over to the carriage, his scar wrinkling as a snicker bloomed on his lips.
The other soldiers, who were listening in, widened their eyes in realization, while the prisoners, dismantling the tent, stopped midway, their bodies trembling in trepidation.
"Oooh! I can't wait to see him beg to not throw him in the rift! I bet he'll crawl on his ass, begging for his life!" Mark exclaimed loudly.
The soldiers then burst out in laughter, clutching their stomachs. While a few prisoners let out a dry chuckle, they were the first to jump on Victor to beat him.
The soldiers continued mocking Victor, cursing and spitting at him. But Victor stayed still, his bruised hands curled into fists as his red eyes stared at the ground.His lips moved, but no sound ever came out.
But soon, the commander walked out of his tent. Glancing at his soldiers and then at the prisoners, he declared, "We're leaving."
The prisoners soon dismantled the commander's tent too. And after putting out the fire and climbing onto the carriage, the group began moving.
Time passed, a few hours since they started, and the prisoners observed how the soldiers had turned vigilant; even Mark, who used every opportunity to mock Victor, stayed silent as he observed his surroundings.
"I don't hear any insects…" one of the prisoners suddenly mentioned with a heavy frown on his face as he looked around the forest, which was slowly turning...brown.
"A lot of dead trees too…" another prisoner muttered, noticing the number of dead trees increasing.
"Life does not bloom near the rift," a soldier explained, suddenly. His expression was serious as he turned to the prisoners. "The closer you get to the rift, the more lifeless the land becomes."
The prisoners were surprised to hear this. Not for the information but because it was the first time a soldier ever answered them without beating them or berating them.
The other soldiers seemed to have caught on to this, and one of them beckoned his horse to come near the carriage and explained, "From here on is the territory of the rift. Our job is just to deliver people like you. And your job, once you arrive, is to guard the rift. Of course we would give you information."
Then another soldier added with a grin, "The more the cannon fodder, the less the chances of us being stationed at the front!"
The prisoners shivered at the soldier's reasoning while soldiers themselves let out an amused chuckle.
They've all heard the stories; only one in ten of the people who were sent to the rift ever returned after fifteen years of their punishment. Many criminals chose death because of this. But there were also people who wanted to live and chose to guard the rift for fifteen years before they regained their freedom.
"But you, Mister. Don't have to worry about survival!" Mark's voice cut through the prisoners' daze, snapping them out of it.
"W-What do you mean, sir…?" One of the prisoners asked, hesitant.
Mark's scar curled as he neared Victor's side of the carriage, his eyes gleaming with glee as he explained, "When we die, we enter Anu's great wheel of reincarnation. But those who enter the rift…"
His face turned livid with joy as he eyed the prisoners, each reeled into his words, "Well, they don't enter the wheel of reincarnation!"
"T-They don't…?! " One of the prisoners blurted before he quickly shut his mouth.
"Mhmm," Mark nodded, "The rift absorbs them. Their bodies rot while their souls decay, turning them into mindless monsters. Then they either become food for those abominations inside, or they come out, only to die in the hands of the guards."
He then turned to Victor, his grin widening, "But that's not the end for them!"
"W-What…?"
"Once they die, the rift pulls them back; it gives them a new body, and the cycle repeats itself…for eternity!"
The prisoners' faces turned horrid as they listened to Mark, their gazes travelling towards Victor with deep pity. Even the awakened woman, who had not cared for Victor till now, glanced at him with a flash of pity before quickly looking away.
While Victor himself shuddered for a moment, his lips moved rapidly, and his fists curled tightly until they dug into his palm.
It was truly an eternal nightmare.
The group then had fallen silent, with each prisoner with their own thoughts. Mark left the carriage alone, glancing at Victor for a moment.
The silence continued as the group passed through the thick forest, which now had turned entirely brown, filled with dead trees. The ground cracked, devoid of water, and the air was dry.
Animal skeletons filled the sides of the road as the horses stepped on their skulls, crushing them with a crisp snap.
This continued on for a while until the commander's face stiffened and his grim voice alerted the guards and startled the prisoners, "We've arrived!"
BADUMP
The prisoners' hearts collectively skipped a beat as the air around them turned heavy. Their hesitant gazes travelled up front, beyond the commander, only for them to turn pale in awe and dread.
Up ahead was a huge, dark castle. Its spires seemed to touch the sky, and its gates seemed to be able to hold in giants themselves. Walls as thick as carriages guarded the rift on either side, with soldiers running about.
But what made the prisoners' faces scurry in fear was the thing behind the wall.
A deep gash in space itself, web-like cracks surrounded this gash, filling the sky and air. Purple lightning dances around the gash while some black dots escape through the gash.
As the prisoners trembled in horror, Mark's sneering voice said, "Welcome to the rift! Your deathbed!"