Failures are culled, disappointments are shunned, the weak are trampled upon and the strong ascend to glory. This was the dogma of the Telemenpha, its simplicity, purpose and ability were easily grasped by anyone but its effects were such that nobody desired them.
The strong were those who could do whatever they wanted and no law could hold them down, but the weak... the weak were those who could take charge of their lives, they couldn't live, to really live. Hence the maxim of the Telemenpha created a large divide in the region they dwelt in. Strong equals life, weak equals fates worse than death.
ARGHHHHHHHHHHH....
The high pitched, ugly screams of Jedaiah resounded within the carriage.
"A dream?! It was a dream!!... right?"
He muttered in a dazed manner oblivious of his current condition, but who could blame him. Ignorant of the shocked stares, Jedaiah continued his indistinct mumblings.
"Was that the sign? Where those the signs?"
He muttered again, his eyes quivering in fright and his palpitating in terror. Eventually, he calmed down his thoughts as a quiet throbbing reverberated from his legs. The sharp pains that pierced his being brought an indistinct sound out of his mouth.
Chains rattled against each other.
'What's that sound?' He thought as he brought his head downwards to gaze upon his left arm.
A big heavy iron shackle was what he saw.
"Huh??"
To his right he saw the same, then his swollen legs.
Shackles, Shackles, Shackles.
"What's going on?!, What is this?!, Shackles, when did I get shackled?, How? Wait-no... no, no, no. no."
The sudden realization sapped his strength profoundly leaving him... aghast. Color drained from his countenance faster than he could comprehend the full extent of the situation at hand. His arms trembled, his mouth slackened, his eyes wide open.
The passengers in the carriage watched with their hollow eyes, they knew what it felt like, to wake up chained up knowing you've been subjugated to a fate was more perilous than death. Some derived a hollow and wicked kind of joy in seeing their former fellow men, chained to the same fate as them. Others sympathized, fearing for their fellow compatriot and themselves. But ultimately, they would share the same fate, only different magnitudes towards that fate but the same horrible fate.
A wicked grin, with chuckling resounded within the moving carriage.
"So you've realized it. Not bad for a scrawny kid like you but yes, a slave. You are a slave."
Those words broke the proverbial line within his mind.
'a slave.'
He silently muttered, not sparing a glance at the strangers filled within the carriage.
'Ah, what a beautiful sight.' the guard thought, watching the performance happening before his malevolent eyes.
'The sudden realization that hits them is oh so delicious to behold.'
A great and bitter cry resounded.
Hunched on all fours, hot tears streamed down as great and bitter cries left his maw. His gaunt appearance hid a strength, and that strength was greatly revealed in that moment.
Mutilation.
He struck the wooden surface of carriage with such strength that the carriage slightly trembled. He wanted to break the shackles that had bound him, but he knew, he knew it was pointless, that it was futile to struggle, but... could he give up at the slightest inconvenience, as a member of a royal bloodline. Nobody knew, but his desire to shatter the shackles pushed in to repeat the self mutilating behavior.
Another strike. The carriage trembled. His wrists revealing pink flesh. And another, but it was futile as hopelessness stopped his actions. The slaves in the same carriage watching.
Stopping his self-destructive behavior, the hot tears streamed... as quiet sobs echoed. The slaves felt for him, they wished to comfort him but, the situation they were in killed of any manner of motivation to do what they wanted to do.
The show had ended dimming the wicked smile of the pale skinned guard, but the dark malevolence raging in his eyes had not ceased. Perverse thoughts ran amok in that mind of his as he licked his chapped lips.
'Ah, I can't get enough of this. The realization, the desire to escape, the pain... and the despair. Ahhhh, what an addictive thing. Blessings to the Telemenpha, blessings forever more.'
"Kekeke, boy, since you have wrecked your wrists, I'm gonna take you to a "special" place to get them fixed, kekekeke."
His wicked chuckling sent waves of fear to the occupants of the carriage, eliciting a new found fear for the guard. The emphasis on the word "special" ignited the fear they had kept under control as it ravaged throughout their bodies, painting their expressions with grief and new found horror for their fellow compatriot.
Some clutched their heads, while others began to quietly sob, with the remaining having blank expressions as though they had seen the terrors of the world.
Sensing a plunge in their hearts, the guard's already malevolent eyes gained a new found sense of... relishment, basking in their fears all whilst sitting cross legged at the center of the carriage.
The silent despair, the terrifying end of the journey and the quiet fears burning, pushed a slave to the brink.
With a sharp roar, he jumped off the only entrance in the carriage hoping to escape from the silent hell he had endured. Seeing a great forest, he rushed toward it, the sun illuminating his path, but the guard inside the carriage made no move, quietly chuckling. The convoy of carriages carrying the slaves continued moving, the guards out side giving no chase, only smiling wickedly and malevolently.
The slaves all watched with shock, with some even hoping that escape was possible. The sudden escape spread hope out like a plague, eliciting dare devils to try and win back their freedom. The blank eyed, crimson haired boy, catching the hope like a fire glanced at the slaves hoping to find a fellow cohort but what met him were terrified expressions of great magnitude. The hope that had spread, was only among the new comers with their lack of understanding on the slave trade, but the more experienced slaves knew something, and that something was horrifying.
"No please, gods, please no"
The weak pleading of the woman opposite him, shook the hope he had caught to a great degree. He through a weak glance at the guard, his malevolent expression extinguishing that fire of hope he had caught.
"boy, do not even think of escaping."
The aged voice of the elder beside him echoed. Whipping his head to look at the elder, words came from his weathered mouth.
"Those guys who escaped, think of them as dead ."
His already extinguished hope suffered a blow like no other, casting him deeper in that pit of hopelessness , but the desire to live burned, though not as brightly but bright enough to speak.
"Why"
Seeing his advice had been taken albeit cautiously. The blank eyed elder spoke, facing the wooden planks of the carriage, his voice carrying years of hardship.
"Because this is the forest ruled by elves."