Elian’s Despair

Back to the present...

The cold stone floor bit into Elian's palms as he was shoved roughly into the cramped cell, his knees scraping against the rough wood.

He winced but remained silent, biting back the pain that flared through his leg.

The sound of the iron bars slamming shut echoed in the small chamber, sealing his fate.

He dragged himself to the farthest corner, curling into a ball as though he could somehow shrink away from the reality closing in on him. The air was thick with the stench of damp wood and despair, a smell he had grown all too familiar with in his previous life.

A soldier, tall and broad-shouldered, stood on the other side of the bars. His face twisted into a sneer, his eyes gleaming with cruel satisfaction as he spat at Elian, the glob of saliva landing near his foot.

"Bastard son of a traitor," the soldier hissed, his voice dripping with disdain. Elian remained silent, staring down at the floor, the words lancing through him like poison. His heart pounded in his chest, a rhythm of fear and hopelessness.

"Don't worry," the soldier continued, his voice now laced with a sickening delight. "I'll be your steady customer when they sell you off to the Velvet Moon Pavilion."

The soldier's lips curled into a lecherous grin as he leaned closer, licking his lips as if savoring the thought. "I can't wait to have access to your body, ride you until you run out of breath," he added, his voice thick with lust.

Elian recoiled, pressing himself harder against the wall as if he could merge with it, disappear into the shadows. The soldier's laughter echoed through the cell, harsh and grating, as his comrades joined in, their jeers filling the air. They fed on his fear, delighting in the way he cowered before them.

Finally, they left him alone, their laughter fading into the distance, leaving Elian in the suffocating silence of his despair.

The cell felt like it was closing in on him, the walls drawing closer, suffocating him with the weight of his situation. He couldn't believe what was happening to him, how had it come to this? How had things spiraled so far out of control?

He had been given a second chance at life, a chance to be something more than the beggar he had once been. Yet here he was, once again a pawn in someone else's game, caught in a web of cruelty and fate. Tears welled up in his eyes, blurring his vision as they spilled down his cheeks.

"What kind of god plays such cruel pranks?" he whispered to himself, his voice breaking with the weight of his despair.

"Why didn't they just leave me to die in my past life? Why force me into another body only to make me suffer even more?" His words dissolved into quiet sobs, the reality of his situation pressing down on him like a heavy cloak, smothering any hope he might have had.

He wondered where his evil stepsister, Isla, was being kept.

Had they thrown her into a cell as well? A part of him had planned to exact his revenge on her for all the pain she had caused the original owner of this body, but now... Now, he could only feel the bitter sting of failure, the realization that his plans had been dashed to pieces.

He wasn't sad about the downfall of Duke Marcelo's household - no, that brought him no sorrow. What broke him was the cruel twist of fate that had entangled him in this mess, dragging him down into the muck of a life even more wretched than the one he had escaped.

He thought of all the suffering he had endured in his past life, the endless days of hunger, the cold nights on the streets, the constant fear of being caught and beaten for stealing scraps to survive.

And now, he was facing something even worse: being sold as a prostitute, a plaything for the twisted pleasures of those who held the power. "What god did I offend?" he muttered through his tears, his voice thick with grief and frustration.

As he wallowed in self-pity, he suddenly heard a familiar cackle. He looked up, wiping his tears with the back of his hand, to see Isla standing before his cell, flanked by two men dressed in black. Elian's heart skipped a beat, confusion swirling in his mind. Why wasn't she in a cell as well? Had these men saved her?

"My lady, we have to leave before the soldiers notice you are missing," one of the men in black said, his voice urgent as he glanced around nervously.

"Please, give me a moment," Isla replied, her eyes fixed on Elian with a look of pure malice. "I don't know why or how you survived," she sneered, "but I'm glad you will end up just like your mother. A whore begot a whore," she added, her voice dripping with venom.

Elian stared blankly at her, too exhausted and defeated to muster a response. He felt nothing but a dull ache in his chest, the emptiness of despair gnawing at his soul. Isla's words were meant to hurt, but he had no strength left to care.

"Don't worry," Isla continued, her voice cruel and mocking. "I'll send lots of customers to mess you up in the Velvet Moon Pavilion. I'm sure they'll enjoy breaking you, just as they did your mother."

"My lady, we need to go now," the other man in black urged, his voice more insistent this time. Isla turned to leave, a satisfied smirk on her lips.

But as she did, something in Elian snapped. A cold rage bubbled up from the depths of his despair, cutting through the fog of his misery. He wasn't going down without a fight. This body had been through too much, suffered too long in Isla hands.

He won't let her walk away without consequences.

"Wait," Elian called out, his voice steady despite the storm brewing inside him. Isla paused, turning back to him with a mocking glint in her eyes. "I have a surprise for you," he said, a smirk of his own playing on his lips.

Isla raised an eyebrow, clearly intrigued but skeptical. "Oh? And what could a filthy bastard like you possibly have to offer me?" she asked, her voice dripping with disdain.

Elian didn't answer. Instead, he lunged forward, grabbing Isla through the bars of his cell. She let out a startled cry as his fingers closed around her arm in a vise-like grip. With all the strength he could muster, Elian pulled her against the bars and screamed at the top of his lungs, his voice echoing through the corridors.

"Help! Isla Marcelo is escaping! The traitor's daughter is escaping!" His voice was loud and clear, filled with a mixture of fury and desperation.