'Why must I die like this?' Claire thought in her mind as her body hung against the cold bark of the tree, a bloodied spear skewering her chest. Every breath rattled like broken glass in her lungs. Strands of her messy brown hair, chopped jaggedly by careless hands, clung to her damp cheeks where streaks of crimson ran. Her brown skin was mottled with bruises and fist-shaped welts, and her pink eyes blurred with blood and tears.
"Tch. That's what a filthy slave gets for daring to go against her masters," sneered Penny, her voice rich with mockery. She drove her boot into Claire's stomach, forcing a strangled gasp from her lips.
Beside her, Anna twirled a lock of glossy blonde hair around her fingers, her green eyes gleaming with idle amusement as if watching a street performance.
'Go against their masters? How laughable,' Claire thought bitterly. 'I just wanted to live. But this crazy woman won't even allow that.'
"Brother, she really is pathetic," Penny scoffed, glancing toward the tall, cold-eyed man who leaned lazily nearby, her brother. "Trying to cling to the Duke like that."
'Cling?' Claire's lips trembled, but she lacked the strength to form the words aloud. She wasn't even interested in him. He was the one who came up to her and attempted to touch her. But now because of Penny's crazy possessiveness she's suffering.
Her mind, desperate and drowning, wandered back to the how it happened.
It had only been days ago. She was in the garden, dirt under her nails, tending flowers quietly. The Marquis Mansion was hosting Duke Agnes. Penny, the Marquis's eldest daughter, was entertaining him inside. Claire knew better than to so much as glance at that man. She knew men like him are trouble.
But fate had pushed her, literally. As she was busy working for some time Anna was running around the garden and had shove had sent her sprawling into the soil, her tools scattering. The young noble girl's delicate face curled into a cruel smirk before she turned her back, as if Claire weren't worth another word. Claire, used to such treatment, lowered her head and began gathering her things. She was nothing. A slave.
Then polished boots appeared in front of her, the shine of them startling her more than the shove had. Someone crouched down. Claire's hands froze as Duke Agnes himself gathered the flowers she had dropped. His golden hair caught the sunlight, his smile too polished, too perfect.
"Thank you, sir," Claire muttered, keeping her eyes lowered as she reached for her bucket.
"Why is a pretty lady like you working in such dirt?" he asked with a playful lilt. His voice slid against her ears like silk dipped in poison. Claire tensed. His gaze wasn't kind. It was hungry.
She had seen it before, slave women charmed by nobles, tricked into believing in a kindness that never existed. They ended as corpses, discarded toys. Claire stayed silent.
The Duke leaned closer, his shadow engulfing her kneeling body. "I could make it stop. This hard work. It must be tiring." His tone was soft, but Claire didn't buy it one bit. She braced herself for the inevitable hand on her shoulder.
But Penny's shrill voice tore through the moment. "Claire! What are you doing down there? And you, Your Highness?"
From the window above, Penny's eyes flashed with anger. With a swirl of wind magic, she leapt gracefully to the ground form the window. Agnes chuckled lightly.
"Merely admiring the dedication of your staff, my dear Penny."
But Claire felt no relief, only dread. He had painted a target on her back.
Penny linked her arm with his, forcing a smile that trembled with jealousy. She shot Claire a glare sharp enough to pierce bone before tugging the Duke away. Claire's gut twisted. She knew she would pay for this.
A few days later…
The corridors of the mansion were quiet at night, the lanterns burning low. Claire had been ordered to scrub the marble floors of the west wing alone, while the other slaves slept, this was her punishment. The scent of soap and stone filled her nose as she worked silently, praying to finish before sunrise.
Then footsteps echoed behind her.
Claire froze. Slowly, she looked over her shoulder, and her heart plummeted. Duke Agnes, dressed in fine silks, leaned against the doorway, his golden hair catching the dim light, his eyes gleaming with amusement.
"I was hoping I'd find you," he chuckled.
Claire immediately lowered her gaze, her hands trembling. "My lord… I am working."
He stepped closer, "Always so dutiful. But it pains my heart to see such a beautiful woman look so tired without rest. I see Lady Penny isn't giving you an easy time." His hand reached down, brushing against her chin, trying to tilt her face upward.
Claire flinched and pulled back, her heart thundering. "Please, sir. Don't…." she said standing up and stepping back. Others may be fooled by such flattering words but she wasn't going to fall for that.
Seeing this Agnes got angry and grabbed her wrist. His grip tightened on her wrist, yanking her close. His breath, heavy with wine, washed over her. "No need to be shy. You're a slave right? If you're willing to offer yourself up I might be willing to get rid of your slave status."
'What a load of bullshit! If he really cared he'd take care of that first than asking me to warn his bed!' Panic surged through her chest. She struggled, twisting violently, her nails scraping against his hand. With all her strength she shoved him away and darted toward the opposite way.
"Come back here!" His voice boomed down the corridor. He reached out, catching the hem of her skirt, tearing the fabric as she wrenched herself free. Claire sprinted barefoot across the polished floor, every step echoing like thunder in her ears.
Her chest burned, tears stinging her eyes. "Not me. Not like the others. I won't let him…." she mumbled trembling as she remembered being forced to throw the bodies of her own friends who were entangled with noble men. And not once did any of those men care for these slave women nor asked for them when they were dead.
She nearly collided with someone at the bend of the hallway. Penny.
The Marquis's daughter stood frozen in her silk nightgown, her green eyes wide, flicking between the flushed Duke and the disheveled slave girl fleeing from him. Claire stopped only for an instant, gasping, her face pale with terror. Then she ran past, disappearing into the slave quarters.
Behind her, the Duke adjusted his sleeve, his expression shifting to irritation. But Penny's face darkened like a storm. To her, it wasn't an assault she saw, it was Claire daring to attract the Duke's attention, daring to steal what she thought belonged to her.
Penny's nails dug into her palms until they bled. "That slave…" she whispered. Hatred burned in her chest.
And now, here Claire was.
The spear was yanked free from her chest with a wet sound, and Claire collapsed to the ground, blood bubbling from her lips. She clawed at the dirt, struggling for breath.
"Throw her into the valley," Penny ordered coolly, brushing dirt from her silk skirt.
"Yes, my lady," a servant replied without hesitation.
Hands seized Claire's ankles and dragged her across the ground, her skin scraping raw against the stones. She was flung into the dark valley, her body falling for while before breaking against the pile of corpses waiting below. The air was thick with the scent of rot and metal.
She coughed, blood spilling from her mouth, and forced her eyes open. Another load of dead bodies tumbled down beside her. The thud of flesh against flesh made her flinch.
And then she saw her.
A ginger-haired girl, her throat slashed open, her once-bright orange hair caked with dried blood. The terror frozen in her pale face was unmistakable. Claire's heart cracked.
Her friend.
Her chest tightened, hatred clawing its way into her soul. For the first time, the fire of rage consumed her fear.
"I hate them. I hate them. I hate….."
Her mind spiraled as her gaze locked on the pale moon peeking through the valley's darkness.
"Why do people like us suffer and die like animals, while they live in riches? Why?"
The thought tore through her as the corpses around her stirred. Dark mana oozed like black smoke from the dead, wrapping around her trembling body.
Whispers rose from the piled corpses, voices ragged with pain and fury.
"We want revenge. We want vengeance. We want revenge." but before Claire could hear them she took her last breath.
Claire's eyes flew open. She gasped as if surfacing from drowning. She was surprised that her breathing was fine and so was her body that was once broken, yet wrapped in ragged, filthy clothes. The stench of sweat and rust filled her nose. Around her, people of all races huddled in cages, asleep. A heavy iron collar dug into her neck. She looked at her think hand and small body and noticing this familiar place she smiled.