Long ago, there was a lost island gripped by a cruel fate.
A relentless drought scorched the land, turning rivers to cracked mud and forests to stick like a mummified figure.
While an unyielding winter chilled its bones with blizzards that howled like vengeful spirits for every night to come.
One by one, the crops withered and died, their stalks collapsing into gray ash under a merciless sun with a mockery from the endless frost.
The villagers, weakened and desperate, dehydrated and frozen through endless cold nights huddled in tattered hovels.
Fathers turned on sons in savage brawls over the last scraps of moldy grain…
Fists splitting skulls amid screams that echoed unanswered.
Mothers clawed at neighbors for a sip from hoarded waterskins, with their nails drawing blood in the dim firelight.
Children suffered worst of all, as their frail bodies dehydrated under the paradox of ice and thirst, skin stretched taut over bones, eyes hollow voids drained of life, staring blankly at skies that offered no mercy.
Slowly…
"…"
Theislandfell silent.
Its villages crumbled into dust and shadow, ghosts of laughter swallowed by its symphony.
Yet,
Amid this despair, a barren priestess emerged.
Her blindfolded eyes held a determination unsoftened by the silence beneath her.
She climbed the jagged spine of Mount Cadensia, the active volcano's distance filled with the glow of bioluminescent stones.
At its frost-rimed peak, twelve weathered stones stood in a perfect circle, etched with ancient runes.
Barefoot and clad in rags woven from spider silk, she knelt at the center as twilight bled into night.
With her hands clasped together, and head bowed down.
A low chime echoed from the stones, resonating through the ether.
Chim...
In that instant, all living beings turned toward her: tigers frozen mid-prowl on distant slopes, monkeys dangling motionless from barren branches, snakes coiled, rats paused in their scavenging, birds suspended in flight, and humans locked in their final moments.
The world held its breath, utterly still, not a leaf trembling, not a heart beating out of rhythm.
Chim..!
Then came a sharp sound, piercing from all directions like the snap of violent strings.
Dumnnm!
A deafening rumble followed, shaking the earth itself—cracks spiderwebbing down the mountain, avalanches thundering into valleys below.
DUMNNM!!!
The veil tore, and as she performed the forbidden ritual.
An orb appeared from the void at the circle's center—it looked smooth, pure of colors.
A glass stone.
A thing that is clearly not living yet pulsed with life.
Something otherworldly with a blue light shimmering from its core .
The priestess held it high overhead, and it floated up, vibrating the ground under her feet.
Leaves around her lifted and spun—some drifting gently, others whipping violently around her body.
Then, it turned into fire, blazing everything around her, and then once again change into water drowning all living beings.
After a while, it becomes a wind that creates countless towering tornadoes.
Chaos,
chaos,
and chaos it brings to the island until it is shaped into earth.
Once again, the ground pulsed life and greens sprouted.
The power it invoked was potent, halting the disasters that had plagued the island for so long.
Light rain showers fell once again in silver sheets, thawing the destruction it brings; life and energy shoots pierced the dust overnight.
Centuries slipped by, and the island once dead and forgotten bloomed anew.
a vibrant country nestled near the glowing heart of the active volcano named,
Cadensia.
*******
-PRESENT-
Huamm!!
The horn blasted through the barrack like a physical blow that rattled his skull.
The sound was sharp and relentless. It made his ears ring for several seconds after it stopped.
He was jolted awake on the straw mat beneath him.
These mat's damp fibers clung to his bare back and its fibers felt like cold, sodden rags that refused to let go.
Overnight leaks from the cracked ceiling had soaked through to his skin.
The dampness left a deep chill that seeped into his bones and stayed there.
The air in the barrack hung thick and oppressive around him.
It carried the smell of wet rot from moldering wooden beams overhead.
The smell mixed with the sour, stale reek of two dozen boys packed into bunks that were too tight for any comfort.
Every breath he took dragged in their mingled sweat.
It also dragged in the oiliness of unwashed hair and the faint copper tang of infected collar sores that wept constantly.
The odors pressed close, heavy as the pig's meal itself.
Around him, the barrack stirred slowly to life.
Boys around sixteen to eighteen years old groaned low and guttural from the cramped wooden frames that were stacked three bunks high.
Some of them sat up slowly, while others remained laid back.
They knuckled the crust from their red-rimmed eyes and coughed up thick phlegm that they spat onto the stone floor below.
Their heads stayed bowed low and stared blankly at the stone beneath their rag-wrapped feet.
Iron collars encircled every single neck just like his own.
These metal edges were worn smooth from constant rubbing against skin.
The collars were no less cruel for it; as pus-crusted sores wept yellow fluid where the skin had chafed raw over time.
A scrawny kid in the next bunk twisted his body around to face him directly.
Big ears jutted out from his head like handles under a thick crust of mine dust that never fully washed off. His hair hung in greasy clumps over his forehead.
When he grinned wide, a yellow tooth gleamed uneven in the dim lantern glow that filtered in from the corridor outside.
"New meat, huh, dummy?" Tiko said to him.
Tiko's voice was pitched low and mocking. It carried the casual cruelty of someone who had been here long enough to know it worked every time.
He dropped his eyes to the mat immediately underneath him.
No words rose in his throat at all.
There was just a tight knot of silence that choked everything else.
Tiko's stare bored into him like something heavy as the collar around his neck. He had nothing to say.
He had no defense ready in his mind. His stomach chose that exact moment to growl loud and deep.
The sound twisted through his gut like a knife turning slow. The growl echoed louder than it should have in the quiet barrack.
It made him feel even smaller and more exposed under that yellow-toothed grin that watched him.
HUUUAAANNN!!
The horn blew again from somewhere distant.
The blast was longer this time.
It was urgent and vibrating through the stone walls like a living thing demanding full obedience from everyone.
With it, all of the boys collectively knew:
That was the clear signal for all of them.
All of them lurched into motion without a single word spoken.
Their feet slapped against the cold stone floor.
Ankle chains rattled in a ragged unison that filled the room.
He pushed up carefully from the mat below him. His legs felt stiff and wobbly from the uneasy sleep of the night before. His muscles protested the sudden demand with sharp aches.
His first step forward pulled the chain taut around his ankle.
A sharp clink rang out as cold iron links scraped against the floor stone. The sound echoed off the low ceiling above and bounced back to his ears. Heads turned fractionally toward the noise.
No one commented on it… They never did in this place.
He shuffled into the line that was forming at the door.
His rag-wrapped feet slipped slightly on damp patches where ceiling leaks had pooled into small puddles.
The flow of boys carried him out into the corridor beyond. The air there was a bit colder than the smothering stink inside the barrack.
It smelled… cleaner overall.
There was no thick rot anymore. Instead, there was just the scent of wet earth and faint, acrid torch smoke that clawed at his throat with every inhale.
Gray torchlight flickered along the long, narrow walkway ahead of them. The light cast elongated shadows that danced on the rough-hewn walls to either side.
Guards loomed at both ends of the walkway. They were broad figures dressed in stiff black leather from the top to bottom. Vine whips that are dangerously sharp dangled from their belts. The whips glowed with a faint green pulse even in the gloom around them.
One guard shifted his weight from one foot to the other. His boot ground against loose gravel underfoot. The other guard stared straight ahead into the distance. His face stayed completely impassive under the torchlight.
The boys fell into line quickly and with practice. Their shoulders hunched against the sudden chill in the air.
Chains clinked in a weary rhythm that matched their steps. He joined near the back of the line and kept his head low to avoid attention.
A rough hand shoved a dented tin bowl into his palms without any ceremony at all. The metal of the bowl still felt warm from whoever had held it before him.
"Who…
Who am I?" he who lost his voice, murmured to himself, voice barely a breath lost in the chain clinks around him.