Elias leaned back in his chair, hands folded.
"I need you all to go."
Three knights—his most trusted—stood before him.
"I want each of you in separate zones. Cover the western ruins, the Red Forest, and the collapsed sector south of River-Kein. One day. Return by nightfall. Use teleportation to regroup. Simple scouting. Mark anything that feels off."
They nodded. There was no need for further details.
But Elias added softly, "And take one of these."
He placed small devices in front of them—gadget stones, enchanted to connect to him directly.
"If you find anything...any tiny clue..... even the hint of something wrong,use it."
They nodded again. They were firm, loyal and unwavering with same ideology —if their lord said so there must be something.
He turned his head slightly toward the window, though his eyes were still blindfolded.
He had been dreaming lately.
Of children crying.
Of moss-covered roots.
Of a whisper in the dark that didn't come from memory—but from the past or maybe present. He don't know, but he know one thing— they need him.
His voice, low and calm:
"I think something's waiting in the woods."
The knights left without question.
They didn't need to believe.
They just needed to follow.
---
Author's Pov:-
Elen and Leya.
The twins. Suffering there, in that old basement.
The only ones I've been all focused about.
Hypocritical, isn't it?
Because there are others here too.
Dozens. Maybe more. No one kept count, they didn't had to.
They were suffering too...
And yet… I didn't even mention them.
Why?
Because they won't survive.
That's all.
That simple.
Nothing poetic about it.
Nothing noble.
Just survival.
The main character is not the one who suffers the most—
it's the one who survives.
Why?
Because this is life.
There are no bonus points for suffering.
Peace? Equality? Loving everyone despite appearances?
No.
That's fantasy.
These children—
still breathing, but gone.
Hollowed out in ways the body can't show.
Even if someone cut their chains tomorrow,
they'd still be trapped.
And they can never, ever and ever, be whole again.
Will....plot-armor...luck..destiny.. uniqueness...all is needed, to twist ,what is already written. But, if it's already written how can you twist it??...
Well...well...We can never know. And there is no need to.
All to do is focus on your present while keeping future and past in the back of mind.
---
[Basement – Unknown Location]
A different house. A different hell.
It can't even be called a house.
Just a Cage.
A basement cloaked in rot and rusted chains.
Where cries didn't echo,
because no one was left to hear.
There—
Elen and Liya.
Two children.
Not servants. Not soldiers. Not even test subjects.
Just children—
who hadn't seen the sun in three weeks.
Their backs were pressed to the wall,
needles stuck in arms too small,
breathing the stench of metal and mold.
Experimented on.
Liya's fingers trembled as she reached for Elen's hand,
but even that simple movement hurt.
> "Do you think... anyone's looking for us?"
Her voice was hoarse. Weak. Afraid.
Elen didn't answer.
He didn't want to lie.
Their world had flipped—
but not the way it should have.
Not the way they anticipated it to.
---
[Underground | Day 20]
They had stopped screaming.
The new children who came, The ones who still had hope.
They were hopeless now that they believed that no one is going to save them now— they accepted their fate.
As always, Hope dies first.
Elen sat still, watching the patterns on the wall—the cracks, the mold, the shape of the metal pipes overhead. He had memorized every inch of their prison. Not out of boredom.
Out of preparation.
Leya lay curled up behind her, conserving energy. Her skin had grown pale, her breath shallow. But her mind… sharp.
"They always come between the fifth and sixth hour," Elen whispered. "That's when the hallway lights go red."
Leya nodded. "They don't check cuffs properly. I slipped a pin from one boy's shirt. Hidden under the tile crack."
They shared no tears now.
Only knowledge.
Survival didn't come from emotion.
It came from observation. From noticing every detail. Every mistake their captors made.
They weren't just scared anymore.
They were waiting
Waiting for just one chance
And a boy— a blonde boy, who came just a week ago, listened everything with unwavering eyes.
---
[Basement – Day 21]
The experiments never stopped.
They started with the others first.
The weaker ones.
Their screams grew shorter each day, until they were nothing but the silent opening and closing of mouths.
Some had no tongues anymore.
Others… no eyes.
They kept the twins longer.
Better physique. Stronger bones.
Fate? Destiny?
No—just convenient test subjects.
The twins were worth more broken , than dead.
The men in coats liked to say they were "extracting responses."
Responses to pain.
Responses to loss.
Responses to watching someone else suffer and being unable to stop it.
They wanted to strip them bare inside—
tear out every last root of warmth, trust, and hope—
until nothing was left but fear sharpened into rage,
pain curdled into hate.
Then they wrote it all down.
Measured it.
Compared it.
As if the human soul could be filed away in neat little columns.
But can it be?
---
{Day 25th - The strange blonde boy}
The door slammed open.
Boots scraped the floor. The air shifted — everyone in the basement stiffened.
One of the guards stalked toward the boy sitting against the far wall.
"Still keeping that chin up, brat?"
The blondey didn't move. Didn't flinch.
The slap cracked through the room.
His head snapped to the side, but his spine stayed straight.
Another blow.
Still no reaction — only the faint tightening of his jaw.
Leya's nails dug into her palms.
She had seen others cry, beg, crumble under less.
This boy… he simply looked back at the guard as though memorizing his face.
The guard cursed, shoved him against the wall, and left.
When the door clanged shut, the boy's gaze slid briefly toward her.
Not seeking comfort. Not giving it.
Just a quiet recognition — they both understood what it meant to survive without breaking.
---
{Day—27th}
A girl had been on the table earlier.
She was... maybe nine or ten.
Her arms were locked above her head, wrists white from the metal cuffs.
They'd placed something over her mouth.
Not to muffle her.
To force her breathing shallow.
Every so often, they let her inhale deep—
just to watch her cling to it like a drowning thing.
When they were done, they pushed her back into the corner.
She crawled away from the light, shaking,
and no one touched her.
---
That night, a man came again.
He carried a body. Of one girl— Ella
They were, two sisters. Ella and Stella, the name called by those men in black and white.
Stella was told to kill her.
And she did.
Her hands didn't shake.
Her face didn't change.
Her eyes, though…
they cracked, like glass hit from the inside.
She got no reward.
Only more pain.
More regret until she didn't even have the strength to wish she hadn't done it.
I saw Elen watching her.
I saw Leya turn away.
No one here speaks much anymore.
Words cost too much.
---
{Day-31}
A month now.
A month of cold meals, rusted chains,
and the taste of metal in the air so constant it was like breathing a knife.
And then—
---