I will be alright

Atrox was dragged out of the prison, and it took several moments for his legs to adjust to walking again. He was like a newborn child. He scratched his head, and lice ran down his hands, making the guard flinch back and move forward quickly.

Atrox ignored him. He was used to his smell—a mixture of shit, urine, and an unwashed body—by now and was even more comfortable with it. Besides, he was concentrating all his energy on putting one foot in front of the other. The guard led him up a stone step that led to another hallway and then another set of stairs before they came into yet another hallway.

Atrox's eyes easily picked up the outline of walls and doors that lined the hallway, even in the low light.

One of the doors creaked open as the guard pushed it, forcing him to get closer to Atrox. He quickly held his nose and gestured for him to enter a smaller hallway so narrow he could touch both walls, cobwebs hung in the air like smoke.

The air smelled of mold, dust, and dried bones. The uneven ground made him stumble, and the guard swung around with a grunt, shoving the torch in his hand at Atrox's face.

He hissed and recoiled, scrambling back on the ground like a rat. The three years he spent in near darkness had made him very sensitive to light, and he hadn't adjusted yet. He tried to speak, but it came out in creaks and groans.

That amused the guard, and he snorted. "You are like a rodent, smell like one too."

Atrox said nothing, and the man continued to lead the way forward, telling him that the place they were passing was a hallway created for servants and guards so they could move around without distracting anyone.

Finally, he was led outside, and Atrox saw the moon again after a long time. It was a bright, silver light that illuminated the back courtyard of a smaller castle attached to the main one.

"At... Atrox?" A voice cried out, tentatively, trembling.

Atrox swung his head around like a predator, and he regarded the woman in front of him. Life in the dark prison had turned him into a lot of things. It made his senses sharper.

But still, it took a while before he registered that she was actually standing there. Cleir. His near mother. She looked almost as harried as him, her brown eyes brimming with tears as she took a good look at him.

They stared at each other, forgetting the other people standing there.

Atrox didn't know what he expected, but it wasn't for her to fling herself at him and begin to sob. He stood there, dirty and hungry, with tattered clothes and hair crawling with insects, but she still pulled him close.

He didn't realize how much he missed human contact as his hands lifted, hesitantly at first and then firmly around her. He buried his head in her grey hair, and he was glad he had no waters left for tears.

She stayed like that for a long time until she stopped sobbing and then pushed him forward to get a good look at him. Her face was warm. "You stink," was the first thing she said. "But you are alive."

Atrox grimaced and wetted his lips, swallowing several times before finally being able to speak. "I... yes, I stink."

"And you are so thin. I begged your father throughout, and he's as unmoving as a rock. I... forgive me, Atrox. I've done something bad to you." She bowed.

"What?" Atrox asked, confused. 'What is she talking about now? This woman who only showed kindness to me when everyone else turned their back. The only one to truly stand by me'

She hesitated, holding her hands together and looking down, avoiding his gaze. "I begged your father so much that he finally got tired of me and he said he would declare you dead to everyone but you are to be sent to the Borderlands."

It hit Atrox like a hammer to the head, and he swayed. Cleir cried out, but for a moment, Atrox was past hearing.

'Finally! Escape! The Borderlands is known for the death of people sent there, especially weak people like me. I can finally rest and leave all these things behind'

He looked at Cleir, and for the longest time, he tried to smile, but he couldn't form the shape. Yet she saw something in his eyes that made her grip him tightly and whisper fiercely, "Promise me! Promise me, Atrox, that you won't die! And don't hate me—this is the only chance I can give you. I see the hollowness in your eyes. I saw it before—the will to just sit there and let everything happen to you. Don't! Live!"

She looked at him expectantly and wrung her hands.

Atrox looked at her and realized he was now taller than her. 'When did that happen?'

And how could he give her a promise he knew he wouldn't be able to keep? And she thought he would hate her? No, Atrox would finally make her stop worrying. He placed his hand on her head. "I will be alright."

They both knew he was lying, and her eyes filled with tears. She shook her head. "Your mother... she was so good to me. Why can't I return the favor?"

Someone shifted on the side, and metal clicked. Atrox glanced and saw a man in a black robe with a cloak waiting patiently with a chain in hand. Cleir stiffened at that but forced her eyes back on him and then leaned forward to say something very softly to him. "There's a man called Han in the Borderlands. You must seek him out if you are in great danger or need. He owes me a tiny favor—collect it!"

Atrox nodded, but his mind was already set. He took a good look at his near mother, watching the moonlight create shadows on her wrinkled face. "I will be alright," he said again.