Keep quiet! If you still love your tongue—or else I'll cut it out and feed it to you!" one of the slavers barked, his voice sharp as a whip.
Ellie flinched. The iron grip on her arms burned against her skin where the ropes had chafed raw. Her lips quivered, but no words came. This was not the journey she had ever hoped for.
Her mind spun. Where am I? Am I in hell? Lucas… where are you? The questions gnawed at her, threatening to break her already fragile composure. Tears blurred her vision until the world became a haze of dust and footsteps.
"Please… move forward. You're slowing the rest of us down," a soft voice said beside her.
Ellie startled, lifting her head. A girl about her age walked near her, her face streaked with grime, her eyes dull with exhaustion.
"I'm sorry," Ellie whispered, her voice cracked and croaky. "But… I'm not supposed to be here."
The girl gave a hollow laugh. "None of us are supposed to be here. No one wishes for this. But fate doesn't ask what we want. Still…" she tilted her head, studying Ellie's bruises, the way her wrists had been bound tighter than most, "from how they dragged you into the line, and the beating you took… you aren't from our village, Luo shoi, are you?"
Ellie's eyes widened. Luo Shoi. The name rang like an echo in her skull. She had heard it before, whispered in her grandmother's folklore tales—old stories about villages swallowed by warlords, about raids that left no survivors. If this was Luo Shoi, then she truly was no longer in her own time.
Her stomach tightened. Lucas… if I've been dragged here, have you too? Where are you now? Alive?
The girl's voice pulled her back. "I'm Zoya," she said softly, as though the slavers might punish her for offering her name.
Ellie nodded, whispering back, "Ellie."
They walked in silence for a while, the only sounds were the crack of whips and the shuffling of weary feet. Then Zoya spoke again, her voice trembling.
"I was in labor when they came."
Ellie turned her head sharply. "Labor?"
"Yes." Zoya's eyes glistened. "The pains had just begun. My mother and the midwife were with me. I was screaming, not from fear but from bringing life. Then the slavers burst in like demons. They tore my legs apart searching if I'd already delivered. They dragged me, naked, across the floor. My child…my child was left crying. I don't even know if she lived a single day."
Her voice broke. She pressed her lips together, a sob strangled in her throat.
Ellie's heart twisted until she could barely breathe. The cruelty of it was unimaginable, yet here Zoya was, walking beside her, each step pulling her further from the child she would never hold. Ellie wanted to reach out, to comfort her, but her bound hands made it impossible.
Dust kicked up by hundreds of trudging feet clung to Ellie's skin, mixing with sweat and blood. The slavers barked orders, their whips lashing the air, striking whenever someone stumbled. The sun bore down mercilessly by day, and the cold seeped into their bones by night.
The captives whispered among themselves, voices hoarse from thirst. Ellie listened, piecing together fragments of their lives. Most had come from the same village, a small farming settlement that had been raided without warning. Families torn apart. Children ripped from their mothers. Husbands cut down when they tried to fight back.
"I'm Mikoko," one of the women said during the journey. "Once, I was the midwife of my village. I delivered hundreds of children into this world. My hands held life. But when the raiders came, I could save no one—not my daughter, not my grandchildren. They burned in the flames while I was forced to watch. My old bones should have been allowed to rest, but instead they tied me here, dragging me like a sack."
Her voice hardened, bitterness like iron in her tone. "Death is kinder than this!."
Ellie's lips parted, but no words came. How could she comfort pain that deep?
Another captive, a man with broad shoulders and white scars down his chest, gave a dry laugh. "At least you had years to hold your children, Mikoko." His eyes flicked to Ellie. "I'm Lucien. Once, I was the best hunter in my clan. My bow never missed, my spear always struck true. I fed my people, I trained young men to stand proud. Now, look at me." He stumbled forward, nearly collapsing as the rope yanked him back upright. "My knees buckle. My strength bleeds out. A hunter without prey. A man without pride."
"Quiet in the line!" a slaver shouted, raising his whip. Lucien flinched but lowered his voice to a whisper.
Another voice rose—a boy's this time, hardly more than a teenager, his wrists raw from the ropes. His eyes were wild, filled with rage and something like desperate hope.
"My name's Joren," he said quickly before fear silenced him. "They killed my parents before me. I tried to fight, but what is a boy's arm against a soldier's blade? Still, I'll escape. I'll kill one of them, even if it's the last thing I do. I swear it."
His words were fire, but his thin frame and trembling steps betrayed him. Ellie could see he was already close to collapse.
Ellie found herself asking questions, desperate to anchor herself to something, anything.
"Where… where is the nearest train station? If I can find it, maybe....."
Her words froze at the sound of laughter.
The other captives looked at her with a mixture of pity and disbelief.
"Train?" Mikoko muttered, shaking her head. "What are you talking about, girl?"
"There are no trains," Lucien said, his cracked lips curling bitterly. "No stations. We have donkeys, horses, and wagons. That is all."
Zoya frowned at Ellie. "You speak like you've come from a place far away… or from a story. What are trains?"
Ellie's heart sank. Her stomach knotted as realization set in. The train… Lucas… her world. Gone.
That night, as they collapsed to the ground in a circle, guarded by slavers with torches and blades, Ellie could not sleep. Hunger clawed her belly, thirst burned her throat, but worse than that were the memories of every voice she'd heard that day.
When dawn broke and they were forced to journey again, Zoya's steps grew weaker. Her lips cracked open, bleeding as she tried to swallow.
"Water…" she whispered hoarsely.
"Keep moving!" a slaver growled, whipping the air beside her.
Ellie stumbled closer, trying to steady Zoya with her shoulder. "Stay with me. Please."
But Zoya's body trembled violently. She staggered, her eyes rolling back. With one last ragged breath, she collapsed onto the dirt road.
"Up!" the slaver roared, striking her with the butt of his spear. But Zoya didn't move. Her chest no longer rose.
The slaver muttered a curse, kicked her once, then waved for the line to move on. Zoya's body was left behind in the dust, another nameless corpse among countless others.
Ellie's heart shattered. The girl who had spoken her name, who had shared her story of labor and loss, now lay lifeless in the dirt. Silent. Gone.
"If I survive this, it won't be as a slave, Ellie vowed, tears blurring her vision. I will not end like Zoya. I will not let them break me."