I followed the woman through the back door.
The corridor beyond was narrow.
Doors lined both sides, and at the far end, a staircase descended.
She led me one floor down.
And another corridor appeared.
This one was longer.
The pale-white lightstones cast a dim glow across the stone walls.
Wooden doors stood here and there along the passage.
She opened the first door on the right and stepped inside.
I followed.
The room was cold.
A metal basin waited at the center. Faucets lined the stone wall, and opposite them stood a row of cabinets.
A guard in the corner rose to his feet as we entered.
Click.
The door closed behind us.
The woman walked me to the basin, then turned.
She took the key out and unlocked the shackles.
Clink.
She pulled the shackles off and tossed them aside.
Thud.
Her voice was flat.
"Clothes off."
I hesitated.
The guard shifted, a twitch of his hand toward his weapon, enough to make hesitation vanish.
I stripped.
The cold air bit at my skin, but it wasn't enough to dull the shame.
I lowered my hands to cover myself.
The woman's stare didn't help, and I looked down.
My clothes lay on the floor.
The tunic, once blue, was smeared with dirt and torn to rags. My black pants and boots were in no better state.
They reminded me of the banquet.
The trial.
The betrayal.
My breath grew ragged, fingers trembling.
Faces surfaced again.
Favians pleased smile.
Anton's cold eyes.
Sele—
Splash.
Cold water slammed into me before I could brace myself.
My body jerked, breath caught in my throat, and my teeth clenched so hard my jaw ached.
The woman stepped closer, sponge and soap in hand.
"Don't move."
She scrubbed me with a rough sponge, scraping dirt and blood from my skin.
The shame of being naked vanished with the pain.
Her hands didn't care if it hurt.
Step.
She stepped back when she was done.
Splash.
Another bucket of ice-cold water hit me.
My vision went black for a moment before I steadied myself.
She continued, her hands checking every inch of me.
Bones.
Teeth.
Joints.
Like I was livestock.
Her voice was as flat as ever.
"Healthy enough."
She walked to the cabinets, pulled out a set of clothes, and tossed me a pair of socks and pants.
Her other hand held a black shirt.
"Put them on and follow me."
I slipped the socks on, pulled the pants up, and tightened the ribbon so they wouldn't fall.
At last, I shoved my feet into my boots.
The guard shoved me forward.
"Hurry up, boy."
He followed me out of the room.
The woman was already waiting ahead by an open door.
She entered, and we followed.
The heat hit me first.
It stung against my skin.
Then came the bright orange light.
A forge glowed at the center of the room.
Metal tools hung from black-stained racks. Tables piled with gear surrounded us. In the corner stood a steel chair beside an anvil.
The air smelled of iron and burned meat.
The woman stood next to a smith by the fire.
His face was hidden by a cloth, a leather apron covering his chest and his thick arms were blackened with soot.
He stopped his work and glanced at her.
She handed him the note.
"Brand and name."
The smith skimmed the note, then tossed it into the fire.
He gestured toward the chair before turning back to the forge.
"Hold him down."
The guard seized my arms at once and dragged me to the chair.
He forced me down and bound my wrists and ankles with leather straps.
I tried to fight.
To resist.
But he was too strong.
The woman gave one last order before leaving.
"Bring him down when it's done."
The guard nodded.
My breath came fast.
Too fast.
My hands trembled as I looked desperately around.
It didn't take long before the smith returned, iron rod glowing in his grip.
The letters at the tip burned orange, heat shimmering in the air.
"No—"
I shook my head, panic rising.
"No, wait—!"
It didn't matter.
The brand pressed into my chest.
Hiss.
"Aghhhh!"
I screamed.
Pain tore through me.
My back arched, legs kicking, but the leather straps held me down.
I couldn't breathe.
My eyes squeezed shut.
The pain...
It was just too much.
At last, the iron lifted.
A wet cloth pressed against the wound, but the pain stayed.
I opened my eyes slowly, chest still burning.
But the smith was already back with another rod.
This one carried a circular sigil, its glow even hotter. Heat brushed my face from meters away.
His voice came flat, uninterested.
"Left arm."
The guard loosened the strap and yanked my left arm straight, twisting it until my forearm faced upward.
I clenched my teeth so hard I thought they might crack.
The brand came down.
Hiss.
"Aaagghh!"
The scream ripped out of me.
Louder than before.
Tears blurred my sight.
My body spasmed in agony.
The metal finally lifted and another wet cloth was pressed down.
The smith turned back to his forge, waving a hand.
"Done. Leave me alone now."
The guard unfastened the straps and hauled me up.
My legs barely worked as he dragged me away.
Thud.
The door closed behind us.
He pulled me through the corridor and down the stairs.
My boots scraped across the cold stone.
The deeper we went, the thicker the air became.
The foul air of mold and rot choked my lungs.
The lightstones grew sparse, illuminating only parts of the corridor.
Floor after floor.
Stairs after stairs.
The world grew hazy.
Pain fogged my sight, as I was on the verge of unconsciousness.
Muffled voices leaked from the cells we passed.
Minutes blurred until the guard stopped in front of one, releasing me.
I fell.
Thud.
My knees hit the stone, and my hands were barely able to stop my head from following.
Keys rattled as the guard unlocked the door.
Click.
Creak.
He gripped me again and shoved me inside.
Thud.
I landed hard on cold stone, straw scratching my cheek.
The door shut.
Thud.
The lock turned.
Click.
Step.
His footsteps faded into the distance.
Step.
And then…
Silence.
Just me.
And the smell of my own burned flesh.
And the pain.
And the cold.
And the dark.
I couldn't hold on any longer.
My eyes closed, and I collapsed.