3 A Fleeting Dream

"KAL!"

A loud whisper jarred Kalani's mind before something shook him.

'Who?' the boy's lids flew open, only to be greeted with a dark void and a pervasive chill he couldn't shake off. However, as seconds passed, his emerald eyes gradually adjusted to the dimness.

His fingers stiffly twitched as he fought to gain control of his being. 'Stones?' Kalani noticed a pile of them in a corner before his sight flickered hastily toward the low, dreary ceiling. Panic set in.

"Kal, get up! The guards are almost here!" the voice— now determined to be male— from earlier stressed, breaking his train of thought. A cursory glance toward the person revealed the unclear outline of a human.

Kalani squinted.

Piercing blue eyes met with his, worry evident while partially hidden by unkempt, brown hair. Dusty grime that appeared to coat the youth's face merely served to accentuate the filth his thin frame contained.

Yet this was enough for Kalani to remember. With his unfrozen fingers, he massaged his aching forehead.

This was his abode— from the stacked slabs of rocks acting as a solid wall to the reason he was here in the first place. His blank gaze then settled on the youth, who currently blocked the only exit to his home.

"Nelson," a low, rasping utter left his throat, "leave..."

Furrowing his brows, Nelson exhaled with a sigh, though he looked more hurt than upset. "Can't say I didn't warn ya."

Watching Nelson's retreating back, he slowly sat up, but while using his hands for support, his eyes fixated on the callouses and dusty black smudges streaked across his palms and fingers, a scene he had long grown used to. That teen— and him— were no different.

'But that does not mean I like it,' Kalani mused, rubbing his smeared hands onto the tattered clothes dangling from his body. Over time, his eyes dimmed, 'I wish I could meet you again, Mom and Dad. I really... miss you.'

Every time, these memories carved a new scar on his heart, but at least he could relish the happiness it provided, despite temporarily.

Rattling of metallic chains echoed throughout the cavern where he— no, everyone— resided. He peered out, ignoring the musty odor washing over him.

Children and youths alike spread out as far as the eye could see, huddling in their rags against the jagged walls. Some barely appeared to be alive with the single distinguishing factor being their ribby chests struggling to rise and fall.

Though most obvious among the children were the communities they formed due to their characteristics. Humans would naturally wish to befriend their own kind, just like how winged 'humans' and so many other 'humans' did the same, resulting in groups that followed their own appointed leader.

But he— he was an outcast. An infamous monster in human skin.

To be fair, Kalani enjoyed the title; aside from Nelson's persistent nature, no one was willing to approach him, especially after that 'incident'.

Several clanks then drew his gaze to them: silver armored men with sword sheaths hanging off their belts filing in through the gated prison.

A few wore smug grins as a dense gloom permeated the cavern. Behind the guards, young apprentices scurried in with chalk-dry loafs, clearly stale leftovers from somewhere, and began to distribute it. However, to be fair, no one had much misgivings about the taste as countless bony hands stretched forward in a mad scramble, devouring anything they could snatch.

Watching this, Kalani reached into the inner recesses of his abode and pulled a dusty, wicker basket hidden behind some rocks. Lifting the covering, he grasped the last piece of bread remaining, chowing down on its hard shell.

After the meal, Kalani crawled out from the entrance and leaned against the cavern's walls, eyes following the ensuing chaos.

"Get up, we don't have all day!" a sentry barked out. And when a child remained curled up on the ground, the man cruelly kicked the body, revealing a pallid face as a stench emerged from the frozen corpse.

Everyone, including the sentry, scuttled away in fright.

"What happens if it is us next?" someone muttered. In spite of how quiet the person spoke, such words reverberated throughout the cavern, accompanied by soft weeps.

Kalani stared emptily at the corpse; this was nothing new. "Must be one of the newcomers; only they would make a fuss," he mumbled before in the corner of his eye, a shaggily bearded man, the head guard, ambled forward a few steps ahead of the other sentries.

"If you have the energy to cry, shut up and move! You are slaves, useless dregs of society, not some pampered noble children."

A youth with wolven ears snapped, "But I am a noble— part of a high ranking one!" Stroking his beard, the man studied the sullied slave and then sniggered aloud like the rest of his comrades.

Turning pale, the youth's tail tucked in between his legs as he realized what this meant.

"The seller told us you were a beggar originally, so why should we believe you?" the man snarled as he motioned toward the others; immediately, guards swarmed the slave, kicking— trampling— his curled body.

A boo of disappointment came from the group of guards a minute in as they withdrew; apparently, the slave had fainted, so it was boring to beat a dead 'animal' as they left the limp, bruised body behind.

"Now, do we have any other complaints?" the bearded man raised a brow cockily. When silence answered him, he finally shouted, "Well, what are you waiting for?!"

Instantly, the cavern bustled to life as the young slaves crowded forward, meekly accepting their pickaxes or shovels.

Kalani shifted, his bare feet treading toward the guards; however, as he stepped closer, the crowd shied away from him, a conspicuous sight in the eyes of the guards.

"You lot!" the bearded head guard gestured toward Kalani and several others. "Come here!" After shoving a chipped pickaxe into Kalani's hands, the man impatiently led the assembled group out the barred cavern.

Illuminated by oil lanterns on the ceiling, the winding corridors carved out of the underground rock flickered alive, as though the corners where the light did not shine hid unspeakable secrets— such as a way to escape this place.

Kalani dispelled those notions as they reached their destination. His emerald eyes blankly lifted to gaze at the rocky pillars sustaining the gargantuan excavation site as metallic supports weaved through the ceiling. A coal mine.

A gruff voice snapped from behind Kalani, "Scram!" A few slaves bumped into his shoulders as they scurried away into the deeper, darker recesses of the cavern.

After a few minutes of finding a good vantage point of the mine's entrance, Kalani swung down on the wall, breaking off chunks of coal.

Rolling back, one chunk slowed to a halt in front of a young child with floppy, gray rabbit ears, his willowy arms barely clutching the shovel more than half his height. No matter how hard he tried, he couldn't scoop the lumps of coal up, so he resorted to using his grimy hands to lug it into the wheelbarrow.

As it became filled to the brim, an older girl wheeled the load toward a strange, wooden contraption.

Its rusty parts creaked as another load of coal was dumped upon the moving belt, and another batch of slaves that arrived got to work rotating the wheel, which propelled the band forward through a small tunnel— where it went, no one knew.

As time ticked on, his surroundings grew noisy till it seemed everyone, including the guards, had arrived for the day. Guarding the entrance of the mine, the menacing sentries stationed there discouraged any attempts to escape as others patrolled through the area. In their grip, the lanterns swayed as mellow orbs within illuminated their path.

However, at around noon, a commotion rippled through the sea of children. From what Kalani could gather, a new tunnel abruptly collapsed, burying a wolf girl with it.

Her friends scrambled to rescue her while some approached the guards for help, but they didn't. After all, one slave, let alone a child, was replaceable.

Although to her friends' relief, the girl survived, only being a bit shaken and suffering from a sprain.

"Who's there?" a sentry near the entrance barked. All heads turned.

In the dim lighting, a young man with ebony hair, followed by his entourage, emerged. Silver eyeglasses adorned his face with a sophisticated air while his crisp-white shirt and black pants completed his noble-like status.

Clasping his hands together, the bald overseer edged closer, an ingratiating smile on his face. "We are honored to be in your presence, young master Arjun. Refreshments will be prepared for you right away."

Swiveling his bright, golden eyes toward the captain, Arjun flashed a smile in greeting before querying, "These are a new batch of slaves. Are they to your liking?"

Peering past the young man, the overseer skimmed over thirty or so chained children gathered in the corridors, subtly wringing his hands nervously, "Of course, young master, such high-quality slaves like yours are always needed."

Scorn flickered in Arjun's narrowed eyes for a moment. He detested flattery but quickly hid his expression as he played with the cigar in his fingers.

Then the overseer hesitated, "Though, I wonder if you could tell me why there are more winged children in this batch?"

"Karst waged war on the winged tribes last week; hence, we were able to capture more of them this time." After explaining, Arjun lit his cigarette.

"I see... then— are their wings clipped?"

"Of course, but..." Arjun leaned closer to the overseer, his lips curling wryly, "we don't want any accidents like last time do we."

"Yes, of course young master..." the overseer replied as he paled significantly. "And how much shall we pay you?"

"From Klast?" Arjun exhaled the cigar smoke lazily, "Just the usual."

"Of course," the overseer hastily answered, turning back simply to instruct his subordinates further, "Send the young master to the refreshment room."

After saluting, the guards respectfully led Arjun and his entourage back through the winding corridors, giving the overseer the breather he needed yet unaware of what would befall him later.

And despite this, Kalani's attention wasn't directed toward the conversation or the newer arrivals but on the haze of smoke drifting towards the darkened ceiling. Nobody except him observed those normal wisps of smoke take the form of tiny children.

Their blank faces momentarily stilled before contorting into jeers, as if reveling in everyone's misery. Then, they dissipated.

...