Rain soaked the dirt outside the rusted gates of the compound. It had come suddenly, slicing the air like a warning. Inside the dimly lit basement, Elara's chest heaved as she stared at the stranger—the man with the burn scar running across his left cheek and the unmistakable pendant that mirrored her mother's.
"You knew her," she whispered, her voice hoarse. "You knew my mother."
The man didn't speak at first. His gaze flicked behind her, checking the corners. Then he stepped forward, slowly, as though haunted by ghosts he didn't want to disturb.
"I was her brother."
The floor didn't move, but Elara felt like it had been ripped from under her. "No. That's not possible. She never said anything—"
"She wouldn't have," he interrupted, his voice low and sandpaper-rough. "We were separated as children. Sold into different houses. I was marked for labor. She… for other things."
Elara backed away, her eyes swimming with disbelief and questions. "Then why are you here now? After all these years?"
He looked pained, like the truth was heavier than his bones could carry. "Because I thought she was dead. Until I saw you in the square last week. You looked like her. Not just in the face. The fire. The defiance. It was like she'd risen again."
Elara swallowed hard. Her knees wanted to buckle, but she stayed upright, because she had learned how to stand in a world built to break her. "What was her name?"
The man's jaw twitched. "Amaris."
The name stabbed something deep inside her. She had never known it. The masters always referred to her mother as 'No. 8' or 'the mute.' Her mother had never spoken—at least not out loud—but her eyes had told stories that could shatter kingdoms.
"I need to know what happened to her," Elara said, stepping forward now. "Everything."
He looked at her, then nodded. "But not here. They're watching this compound more closely than you think. I came through a tunnel only the old slaves remember."
Her heart stuttered. "There's a way out?"
"There's always a way," he murmured. "You just have to be willing to lose something to take it."
Outside, the thunder cracked. Inside, her world shifted.
"I'll come with you," she said.
But just as she reached for his hand, the basement door above them creaked.
Voices.
Footsteps.
Too many.
The man's face hardened. "They found us."
Without another word, he grabbed her wrist and dragged her toward a stack of crates. He pressed a hidden panel behind them and a slab of earth groaned open—revealing darkness and a cold rush of air.
"Go," he hissed.
She hesitated for a single heartbeat.
And then the door above burst open. Flashlights. Shouting.
She dove into the tunnel, the man right behind her, as the entrance slammed shut with a muffled bang.
They were in the dark. The only sound was their ragged breathing and the distant echoes of guards too late to stop them.
They ran. For how long, Elara didn't know. The tunnel twisted like the veins of the earth itself. At one point, they had to crawl through a shaft so narrow it pressed her chest tight. Every breath was a victory. Every inch a rebellion.
Finally, they reached an opening—a small cavern lit by a single lantern left behind.
The man collapsed onto a rock, panting. "We're out of their reach. For now."
Elara sank beside him, her body shaking. "You never told me your name."
"Malik."
She nodded slowly. "Malik… what now?"
He looked at her with grim eyes. "Now we find the man who sold your mother. The one who owns all of this. And we end him."
The words lodged in her throat. It was the kind of statement that would've terrified her before. But now?
Now it felt like destiny.
Back at the compound, chaos erupted. The guards had searched the basement, finding nothing but scattered footprints and dust. The overseer's voice boomed, red with rage.
"Who helped her escape?!"
Silence.
Until one girl, trembling, pointed toward the laundry hut.
"Rhea," the guard spat. "Of course."
Rhea was dragged from the barracks that night. Her screams were muffled by fists and cruel laughter. And when they were done, they threw her into the mud—bloody and barely breathing.
But she smiled.
Because Elara was free.
Somewhere beyond the hills, Elara and Malik emerged from the final edge of the tunnel, breathing in air that didn't reek of sweat and cruelty.
It smelled like pine. Like rain-soaked earth.
Freedom.
But Malik's voice cut through her fragile hope.
"He's not just a master. He's more than that."
"What do you mean?"
"He's a buyer. A trafficker. A man who sells humans to the highest bidder across borders. And he's building something bigger. A system. A chain so wide it'll span countries."
Elara's heart slammed against her ribs.
"Then we break it," she said.
Malik gave a slow, bitter smile. "You sound just like Amaris."
But just as she began to feel a flicker of strength, Malik's eyes darkened.
"We're not alone."
From the shadows of the forest, movement stirred.
Figures.
Weapons.
And a voice she knew too well.
"I knew you'd run to the past, little Elara."
She froze.
It was Master Verek.
Alive. Smiling.
And not alone.