I was lying on something cold and hard. Metal bars surrounded me on all sides, but they gleamed faintly, golden, catching light from nowhere.
I sat up slowly. My hands were wet. I looked down.
The floor was covered in a thin layer of dark liquid. I thought it was water at first. Then the smell hit me. Iron. Thick and warm.
Blood.
It pooled around my knees, slowly rising. I tried to stand but my legs wouldn't cooperate.
Then I saw them.
Far away in the darkness, past the bars. A pair of eyes. No face. No body. Just eyes, massive and pale, staring directly at me.
They didn't blink.
Every nerve in my body screamed at me to move. Not fear. Something deeper. The same instinct that tells you to pull your hand from a fire before you even feel the burn.
The eyes grew larger. Closer.
Something grabbed my ankles from beneath the blood. Cold. Strong. I clawed at the bars but my fingers slipped on the metal. The blood rose past my waist, my chest, my neck. I thrashed, kicked, tried to scream, but the liquid filled my mouth and dragged me under.
I woke up gasping on the filthy floor of the shed. I had no idea how long I'd been out.
After what I did I thought I was going to die, but they threw me into a stable-like shed at the edge of the arena. The place stank of hay and rot, the sour smell stinging my nose. The only light came from a faint stone set in the wall. I lay on the filthy floor, too sore to care, blood drying on my skin and sweat soaking my shirt.
I glanced at my hand. After killing another human, I felt nothing. Nothing at all. It was different from before. Even the pain in my side didn't hurt as much as I expected. I poked at my left arm. It was probably cracked, but I didn't feel much. My fingers could still move, but the whole arm felt weak and useless. I checked my ribs, counted the bruises, pressed where it might be broken.
"So weird," I muttered.
Someone shoved a small cloth bundle through the door. Inside, I found a bitter-smelling pill and a strip of rough linen. I swallowed the pill without thinking, then used the cloth to wrap my wounds. My hands fumbled, but the bleeding slowed. Soon after, a wooden bowl slid in. I ate without tasting it, just trying to fill my stomach.
When I had enough strength, I glanced up and spotted a tiny window near the roof, just big enough for me to squeeze through. I stacked old boards and bales of straw, careful not to slip, and tried to reach it. My fingers brushed the edge of the window. Suddenly, a shadow blocked the light outside.
A head popped through. I lost my grip and crashed into the hay.
"What—!" I started, but a familiar voice cut me off.
"Lucian!" Lizzy called, squeezing through the window. "I knew you'd be here!" She wiggled, almost got stuck, then tumbled in and landed beside me in a heap.
I sat up, groaning. "How did you know where I was?"
She brushed herself off and grinned. "Master told me." Then she lunged forward and hugged me tight, pressing her nose to my shoulder. "Also… I can smell you."
"Are you a dog now?" I mumbled, half smiling.
Lizzy snorted and dug through her little bag. "Here," she said, pulling out a handful of leaves, a tin of ointment, and a chunk of bread. "For you."
I eyed her. "Did you steal these?"
She hesitated. "I stea-borrowed them from Master."
"Master?"
She nodded. "Yeah. She's a… well, a herbalist."
I took the ointment and smeared it on my worst cut, wincing at the sting. "What happened to you?"
Lizzy shrugged, picking hay from her hair. "Uh… they dragged us to that scary woman. She put a weird stone on my neck. After that, I can't remember anything."
"What? Did you become awakened? What class?" I stared at her, surprised.
Lizzy frowned, still looking lost. "Class? I… I don't know. Sorry."
"It doesn't matter," I said quietly. "We'll figure it out later."
Suddenly, the door crashed open, splinters flying across the straw. A very young man barged into the shed, sharp-eyed and wearing a stylish coat with a chain at his belt. He looked us up and down, smirked, and kicked the broken door aside like he owned the place.
"Well, well. What do we have here? A couple?" he sneered, his gaze landing on me and Lizzy.
…
I stood ready to fight while Lizzy hid behind me.
"Relax, kid. I'm not here to fight you."
Another big man entered, carrying a battered wooden chair. He set it down with a dull thud. The sharp-eyed man sat, sprawling across the seat, while the other stood behind him, arms crossed.
"Name's Killian. You?" he asked.
"Lucy," I answered, my voice wavering.
He chuckled, a low rumble. "Lucy, I want you."
I frowned, confused. "What are you talking about?"
"Your fight was impressive. Killing some lowlife in there was crazy," he said. "Besides, you're a Blessed."
"Blessed?" I echoed.
He leaned forward. "Yes. I can see, or rather, smell your faint aura in your eyes."
I kept my voice steady. "I don't know you."
He leaned back, making the old chair creak. "Fair enough. How about I answer three questions as a reward for the show you put on?" His grin widened.
I nodded quickly, barely waiting. "Where are we?"
Killian glanced at me, amused. "This place is called Crossroad. It's an island near the eastern continent. Most people don't even know this place exists. Once you're here, there's no easy way out."
"What? The E-eastern Continent?" Lizzy stammered, terrified. Her hand clung to my sleeve, knuckles white.
"Impossible," I said, shaking my head.
The Eastern Continent was supposed to be a myth, a scary story for kids in Valeria. Full of horrors and mysteries left by the old gods. I never thought it could be real.
The big man handed a slip of paper to Killian. Killian glanced at it and spoke. "Fourteen days ago, you were shipped here by one of the Desire Lunatic factions. They probably had someone with a Wanderer class or something like that."
Lizzy's hand shook at my side. "W-we need to leave, Luci-"
I caught her arm and squeezed gently. "How do we get out?"
Killian's grin turned cold. "You don't. You're a slave, remember." He pointed to the collar around my neck. "Work for me, and maybe someday you earn your freedom."
I forced myself to ask one final question. "What is Blessed?"
Killian sat back, folding his arms. "A Blessed is someone favored by a god since birth. They don't go through stages like others and don't have a core. Instead, they carry a fragment of the god's power, letting them wield the abilities of the classes they're tied to."
He studied me, eyes lingering on the red light in mine. "You're from Valeria, aren't you? Only a warrior Blessed has an aura like that. It's not often you see it here."
He tilted his head. "Are you an illegitimate child?"
"How dare you-" Lizzy started, but I held up a hand.
I met Killian's gaze. "Yes. I grew up in an orphanage."
He sniffed, nodding slowly. "I knew it. I can smell that you belong here."
He looked at me, waiting. "I answered your three questions. So, what's your answer?"
"I refuse," I said.
He shrugged. "Well, up to you." Then he raised one finger, a grin spreading across his face. "One more game. Last chance."
"What if I still refuse?" I asked.
He chuckled. "You won't."
He stood up, the big man following him. Then he paused at the door.
"Oh, and don't think about escaping. That collar isn't just for show."
He left, the door still lying in the straw where he'd kicked it aside. I looked at the open doorway. My feet wanted to move. Every part of me wanted to run through it and not stop. But Killian's warning sat heavy, and the collar pressed cold against my neck.
I stayed where I was.
…
"What do we do now, Lucian?" Lizzy asked, her voice barely above a whisper.
"I don't know. We need information," I said, staring at the dirt floor.
I looked at her. "What about your master? Who is she?"
"I-I'm not sure. She said I'd become her apprentice, but I never even learned her name," Lizzy said. She looked down, twisting the edge of her sleeve.
We sat in silence, listening to shouts and cheers echoing from the arena outside.
Lizzy helped me make a rough cast for my broken arm, using a stick, dried leaves, and some strips of cloth. Her hands worked quietly, focused, then she started rubbing ointment on my back, giggling and turning red.
"What's so funny?" I asked, raising an eyebrow.
She shook her head, grinning. "Ah, nothing… I just thought of something."
After she finished patching me up, we sat together a little longer. Lizzy stood, brushing straw from her skirt.
"I should go. My master will get mad if I'm gone too long."
I watched Lizzy slip out, careful as she squeezed through the window and dropped down on the other side.
After she left, I stretched out on the floor and stared up at the ceiling. The word "Blessed" stuck in my head. I held up my hand and tried to copy what Roswell used to do back at the manor, but nothing happened. I pressed my fingers to the collar, half-expecting something to happen, maybe some sign of aura.
"Blessed, my ass," I muttered.
Killian said one more fight. What if I agreed? Would it change anything, or would I just end up like everyone else here?
I stripped off the cloth from my right wrist. The mark looked stranger than before, a pupil-less eye, three twisted horns on top, and three bony fingers curled underneath. I turned my wrist, expecting it to glow or sting or move.
Of course, nothing happened.
"What is this supposed to be…" I whispered, tracing the mark. Was it a brand? A curse? Something else?
My mind drifted. I wondered what my family was doing right now. Were they worried? Was Belle even alright? I pictured her trying to still act tough, after she was almost kidnapped. But mostly, I worry about my mother. I hoped she wasn't blaming herself or losing sleep.
"I missed her voice. And her cooking, too," I muttered.