Saved in the Nick of Time

Malcolm's POV: Twelve years ago

The harsh jolt pierces through my sleep like a searing knife. A sharp, electric pain courses through my leg, making every nerve scream in agony. My pained howls echo back to me, replaced with the cold, sadistic laughter of unseen tormentors. Blinded by a tight cloth, my world is reduced to this suffocating darkness, a constant reminder of my current hell. The cramped space I find myself in does little to allow any escape, both physically and mentally.

Every droplet that soaks into the cloth blindfolding me is a tear for Nadya and Monti. For the life we once had, and the dream I shattered with a single mistake. The weight of guilt pushes down on my chest, making it harder to breathe. The agonizing thought keeps repeating in my mind: I was supposed to protect them. My role as the elder sibling was to shield them from harm, not push them into the heart of danger.

The gnawing hunger, the desperation, Monti's weakening state, all these were driving forces that led me to the bakery. The memory of that fateful night is vivid: the stolen loaf of bread meant to be our salvation, but it turned into our damnation. And the price? Possibly never laying eyes on my beloved siblings again. The thought was too much to bear.

The idea of my young siblings, with their gentle hearts and innocent eyes, being subjected to the brutalities of prison was paralyzing. Even as an eighteen-year-old, with years and scars that told tales of life's hardships, I was uncertain of my fate in such a treacherous place. But Monti and Nadya? They were mere children! The thought of their delicate spirits being crushed was a torment far worse than any physical pain.

I wished more than anything that I could break free and find them. We could disappear, escaping to a haven far from these nightmares, where our days would be filled with joy and the haunting memories of the past would be left behind.

"We're almost there, prisoner," One of the guards sneered. "I'm sure you'll find your new accommodations... delightful."

The guard's voice, dripping with sadistic glee, cut through my despairing thoughts like a jagged knife. Another jolt from the shock device made me grit my teeth, suppressing the involuntary cry that threatened to escape. Their amusement at my suffering was clear, each jibe and taunt only serving to heighten their entertainment.

The memory of the King's proclamation was still fresh, its impact as devastating as the first time I heard it. Surrounded by a sea of onlookers, his verdict was clear and merciless. My younger siblings were spared the worst, granted a semblance of mercy only because of their age. But me? I was to be the cautionary tale, the embodiment of the King's ruthless justice.

His need to instill fear into the hearts of his subjects was clear, and I was the chosen pawn in his power play. My youth and lean stature would have usually granted me some leniency, but not this time. He needed to showcase the consequences of defiance, and what better way than to send someone ill-fitted to the most dreaded place of all? Every prison in Stoneward was a pit of darkness and despair, but the one I was bound for was in a league of its own. Its name was whispered in hushed tones, its reputation enough to make even the most hardened criminals pale in fear. The thought of facing such a place was paralyzing, but the thought of never seeing Monti and Nadya again was even more so.

Realizing the danger of my impending imprisonment, I seized the moment. Gathering all my strength, I lashed out in the direction of the guard's mocking voice, feeling the satisfying thud of my foot against something solid.

"You brat!" He bellowed in surprise and pain. "Halt the carriage!"

He lunged at me, hands seeking to restrain me, but in a rush of adrenaline, I drove my knee upward, feeling it connect with his face. Abruptly, a force yanked me backwards, sending me sprawling out of the carriage onto the unforgiving ground. The impact was sharp, and I felt the sickening snap of a bone in my arm, but the adrenaline coursing through my veins dulled the immediate pain.

"You really thought you could escape?" Another voice sneered as a boot connected with my side.

"Big mistake," A second voice chimed in. The two seemed to take turns, their boots meeting my body in a cruel dance of pain. "Why wait for prison? We should finish you off right here."

As their taunts and kicks continued, despair threatened to consume me. My bound hands left me defenseless, every blow further weakening my resolve. But just as the edges of my consciousness started to blur, a commanding voice sliced through the chaos.

"ENOUGH!"

A chilling silence followed. "Who dares challenge the King's guards?" one of the men spat out, bristling with defiance. But his bravado faltered, his voice quivering as he uttered, "M...My lord."

All violence ceased immediately. The once-tight blindfold had slipped slightly, allowing me a glimpse of polished boots pacing steadily toward me.

The footsteps grew louder and resonated with authority. Each step was deliberate, unhurried, suggesting the man's confidence in his power and position. The dust from the road billowed slightly, and I could see the polished leather of the man's boots, the edges glinting in the sunlight, the tread leaving distinct impressions in the dirt.

I tried to muster enough strength to crane my neck upward to catch a glimpse of the man, but the pain in my body kept me grounded, every small movement sending jolts of agony throughout my being.

There was an oppressive silence, interrupted only by the soft swishing of what seemed to be the hem of an elaborate cloak or robe. The subtle scent of expensive cologne filled the air, further suggesting the man's high standing.

The guard who had addressed him earlier was now mumbling, his voice shaky, "Forgive us, Lord... we didn't know..."

The mystery man finally spoke, his voice rich and authoritative, yet tinged with an unexpected softness, "Unbind him and tend to his injuries immediately."

"But, my Lord, he is a criminal," One of the guards protested weakly.

The man replied with a tone that brooked no argument, "Did I ask for such information, do what I say immediately, or else."

With those words, I felt hands gently lifting me from the ground, the once brutal guards now treating me with a cautious reverence, all because of this unknown man who had intervened. While the medicated balms and spells began to ease the pain, I couldn't tear my gaze away from the man who had intervened on my behalf. Towering above most, his well-defined physique hinted at strength, but it was the gentle wisdom in his stormy grey eyes that truly captivated me. The sunlight bounced off his light caramel skin, making him appear almost ethereal.

"Your name, young man?" The softness in his voice was a stark contrast to the authority he'd displayed earlier.

"Malcolm, sir," I replied, my voice hesitant, still wary from the ordeal. A faint warm sensation spread across my injuries, the rudimentary healing spell beginning its work.

"And how old might you be?" He inquired, a hint of curiosity gleaming in his eyes.

"Eighteen, sir." I muttered, my gaze drifting momentarily to the gathering crowd, their whispers echoing with curiosity and awe. But my attention was quickly recaptured by the imposing figure before me.

"And what crimes have you committed that warrant such a severe punishment?" The furrow of his brows betrayed his confusion.

Swallowing hard, I found it difficult to meet his gaze. "We were desperate... hungry. I tried to... steal bread for my younger siblings. I failed them, and now they suffer for my actions."

The weight of silence that settled was palpable. Venturing a look at him, I found his eyes laden with a mixture of sympathy and regret. "Rise, Malcolm. Even I cannot promise aid for your siblings, but I'll see to it that you do not meet the fate set out for you."

A guard, the uncertainty evident on his face, interjected, "But, my lord, it was King Cedric's decree!"

The man turned, his expression steely, "Should my brother have concerns regarding my choices, he knows where to find me." It was then that the realization hit me, this compassionate figure was kin to the very king who had shown us no mercy. The contrast was startling.

"Come with me," The man offered, extending his hand in a gesture of trust and compassion, "and you shall live a life of comfort under my protection." His eyes bore into mine, a sea of stormy gray that held an unspoken promise. "As for the king, rest assured, he will not interfere. Every favor has its price, and I know well what my brother values."

The murmuring among the gathered crowd grew louder, a mixture of awe and confusion. Whispers of the king's younger brother, and his notorious benevolence swirled around, juxtaposed against the known ruthlessness of King Cedric.

With my heart pounding loudly in my chest, I hesitated for a split second. This was an offer unlike any other, a ray of hope in what had felt like an abyss of despair. Taking a deep breath, I reached out, grasping his extended hand. It felt warm and reassuring.

The Lord gave a slight nod to the people, who immediately began to clear a path. "Let's get you cleaned up and settled," He said, his voice carrying a note of finality that indicated the matter was settled.

As we walked away, the pain and torment of the day started to fade, replaced by a glimmer of hope for a new beginning. Still, a single thought weighed heavily on my mind: my siblings. The promise of a better future was bittersweet, knowing they were still at the mercy of the prisons. But with the lord on my side, perhaps there was a chance, however slim, to reunite my fractured family.