The dawn horn blared like a beast's cry, rattling Elias awake. His body screamed from the previous day—arms heavy as lead, back raw from the lash. He pushed himself upright on the straw mat, every joint stiff, and blinked through the gloom of the barracks.
The others were already moving.
Gaunt men with hollow cheeks, women with hair matted and gray with dust, all rising with the same dead-eyed resignation. Chains clinked softly as they shuffled toward the gate where the guards barked orders.
Elias followed, his body sluggish, his mind caught between exhaustion and fear. The smell of sweat and ash clung to the air, mixed with damp straw and the faint copper tang of blood.
Beyond the gate, the quarry yawned open again, a scar of stone and dust under the rising sun. Prisoners filed into lines, handed tools with no care whether they could lift them or not.
A hammer was shoved into Elias' grip again. His fingers trembled, still blistered from yesterday's work. The guard sneered at his hesitation and raised his whip. Elias flinched forward, forcing his body into motion.
The day dragged like centuries.
He swung the hammer, striking stone until sparks danced. He hauled rubble into carts until his lungs burned. His back ached, his shoulders screamed, but he forced his arms to keep moving. Around him, others labored in silence, broken men and women crushed into routine.
But Elias noticed.
The soldier-prisoners moved differently—backs straighter despite their chains, eyes hard, rhythm steady. They cursed under their breath in words Elias could not understand, but their defiance simmered.
The peasants were quieter, brittle as reeds. One stumbled too long, and a whip snapped across his shoulders until he staggered upright again, blood soaking into his shirt.
Then there were the others—the ones who didn't belong. A man with ruined hands, calloused not from stone but from ink-stains long faded. His eyes darted nervously, as though still hearing echoes of a scholar's halls. A woman whose bearing marked her as noble-born, even in rags, though her face was thin with hunger.
All thrown together. Soldiers, peasants, nobles. Orravia made no distinction once chains were locked.
By midday, Elias' vision blurred with sweat. He leaned against the hammer, breath ragged, and nearly lost his balance. A hand brushed his arm.
The soldier-prisoner beside him—broad-shouldered, scar running down his jaw—muttered a word. Elias didn't understand it, but the tone was sharp, commanding. The man shoved his foot slightly forward, adjusting his stance, then swung his own hammer with brutal efficiency.
Elias mimicked him. The strike landed cleaner, with less wasted strength. The soldier gave him a brief, measuring glance before turning away.
It wasn't kindness. It was survival.
When dusk fell, the prisoners were herded back, dragging chains through the dust. Elias' arms hung useless, every step a struggle.
That was when he heard the voice.
Low at first, then rising—a rasping chant.
The Mad Prophet.
He was still chained to the post near the camp's edge, his body wasted, but his voice carried like a curse. His words were madness, broken and slurred. The guards ignored him, passing by with disinterest.
But Elias felt the mark sear on his skin.
The gibberish twisted, reshaped, and for a moment he understood.
"… the stone drinks blood … the mark endures … chains will break …"
Elias froze. The prisoner's wild eyes locked on him, burning with recognition.
Before he could react, a guard shoved him forward. He stumbled, nearly falling. When he looked back, the Prophet was laughing—a dry, broken cackle that cut through the night.
In the barracks, silence ruled. Prisoners collapsed onto mats, groaning with pain. The soldier with the scar muttered something to another man in hushed tones, voices low, wary of eavesdropping guards.
Elias lay on his back, staring at the beams above, sweat drying on his skin. The mark throbbed faintly, as if alive, echoing the Prophet's whispers.
He closed his eyes, but the words haunted him.
The mark endures … chains will break.
Sleep did not come easily.