The first thing Elara registered was the cold. It seeped into her bones, a stark contrast to the burning agony that still simmered beneath her skin. Then came the damp, earthy scent of stone and decay, followed by the dull, throbbing ache in her head. She stirred, a grunt escaping her lips, and the sudden movement sent a fresh wave of nausea washing over her. Her eyes, or what she could make of them, fluttered open.
Darkness, thick and oppressive, was her initial reality. But as her vision slowly adjusted, shapes began to materialize from the gloom. She was in a cave. The walls were rough-hewn rock, glistening with moisture, and the air was heavy, still and stagnant. A faint, flickering light danced at the far end of the cavern, casting grotesque shadows that stretched and swayed.
Pain, a constant, sharp companion, grounded her. Her head throbbed, a dull ache that eclipsed all other senses. Every muscle protested when she tried to shift, her body stiff and bruised. The coppery taste of dried blood coated her tongue, and she could feel the crusted trails on her face, a grim reminder of the brutal encounter. She touched her jaw, wincing as her fingers brushed against a swollen, tender spot.
Then she heard it – a soft whimper. Followed by another, and a suppressed cough. It wasn't just her. As her eyes adjusted further, she made out more figures huddled in the oppressive gloom. Children. Children of her age, or perhaps slightly younger. They were scattered across the uneven cave floor, some curled into tight balls, others leaning against the cold stone, their faces obscured by shadow and despair.
One of them, a girl with matted, light brown hair, stirred near her. Elara could see the raw, purpling bruise blossoming across her cheek, and her lip was split. The girl caught Elara's gaze, her eyes wide and terrified, reflecting a shared trauma.
"Are you... alright?" Elara rasped, her voice hoarse, barely a whisper. The question felt absurd, yet necessary.
The girl flinched, then slowly nodded, her breath hitching. "They... they hit us. A lot."
Another boy, huddled further away, let out a choked sob. He looked younger, perhaps twelve, and his arm was broken and elara noticed the arm was crudely bandaged with strips of torn, dirty cloth, soaked in a dark, lingering stain. His face was pale, streaked with dirt and tears. Looking around, Elara noticed the varying degrees of their injuries: dark bruises, swollen limbs, cuts, and the pervasive pallor of fear. Some had bandages similar to the boy's, others had crude poultices plastered to their skin, but the work was shoddy, clearly not done by anyone with healing expertise. They were all in the same boat, victims of a calculated, brutal abduction, their wounds tended to just enough to keep them alive, but nothing more.
Panic began to rise within her, cold and insidious. They were clearly not in Veridian. The air was different, the silence too profound for the city's magical hum. The smell of damp earth and decay confirmed her earlier terrifying realization – they were somewhere deep in the wilds.
"Does anyone know... where we are?" Elara asked, louder this time, trying to project a semblance of calm she didn't feel.
Silence was her only answer, save for the quiet sniffles and the steady drip of water from a crack in the cave ceiling. It was clear these children were too scared, too broken, to offer any insight.
Suddenly, heavy footsteps echoed from deeper within the cave, near the flickering light. Two hulking figures emerged, their forms silhouetted against the distant fire. They wore dark, nondescript clothing, and their faces were obscured by deep hoods or shadows. One of them carried a large, crude sack, which he threw unceremoniously to the ground, scattering dried bread and some unidentifiable gruel.
"Eat," a harsh, gravelly voice commanded, devoid of any warmth. "You'll need your strength. The master has plans for you all."