Chapitre 1 : Slave

At dawn, even before the sun had pierced the veil of mist that enveloped the camp, the brutal sound of the mustering horn woke the slaves. Arden, whose sleep was always light and peppered with nightmares, rose with the rest, his aching body struggling to support its own weight.

The work imposed was backbreaking, often unnecessarily cruel. Arden and his companions in misfortune were forced to dig deep pits, carry massive stones to build or repair the camp's fortifications, or even work in barren fields, trying to grow something to survive on a land that seemed cursed. Their tools were rudimentary, often broken, and their bare hands were covered in blisters and blood.

The overseers, heartless brutes, took sadistic pleasure in pushing the slaves to their limits, using whips and words as sharp as blades to humiliate and control them. Arden, despite his puny stature, often received their attention, as if they were seeking to break what remained of his will. But behind his dull gaze, a glimmer of rebellion still burned, a refusal to submit entirely.

Food, when it was available, was little more than tasteless mush, served in chipped bowls that the slaves had to lick clean. Water, rare and precious, was often contaminated, and drinking without getting sick was a miracle. Diseases spread quickly in the camp, taking already precarious lives, but Arden, by some grace, managed to avoid the worst.

The rare moments of rest were spent in makeshift huts, hastily built with salvaged materials. There, huddled on top of each other to keep warm during the freezing nights, some slaves whispered their dreams of escape, whispers of freedom that seemed too good to be true. Arden, however, often remained silent, listening, his mind wandering into memories of a past life, desperately searching for meaning in his current suffering.

The punishments, for the smallest infractions, real or imagined, were unimaginably cruel. Arden had witnessed public floggings, slaves locked in cages exposed to the scorching sun or the bite of the night cold. He had learned to keep his head down, to obey without hesitation, not out of respect, but out of an instinct for survival.

Yet in this world of pain and despair, Arden sometimes found small moments of beauty: a ray of sunlight piercing the clouds, the distant song of a bird, or the sharing of a meager piece of bread with another slave. . These fleeting moments reminded him that, despite everything, there was still a spark of humanity in this hell.

.......

Night had fallen over the slave camp like a veil, thick and oppressive, plunging the world into an almost palpable darkness. It was a moonless night, where the stars seemed to hold their breath, anticipating the horror to come. The silence was complete, an ominous omen in a place usually filled with the muffled sounds of suffering and despair.

Suddenly, the uneasy calm was shattered by the distant roar of galloping horses, a sound that grew louder until it became menacing thunder. Before the slaves could even understand the origin of this tumult, the camp was surrounded by a horde of bandits, dark figures mounted on mounts as black as the night. Their arrival was not announced by war cries, but by flaming arrows that drew arcs of fire through the sky, falling on the tents and barracks with deadly precision.

Arden, awakened by the chaos, got up quickly, his heart racing. Around him, the camp awoke in panic, the cries of the slaves mingling with the shouted orders of the bandits. The air was quickly thick with acrid smoke from the fires, making breathing difficult, vision reduced to moving silhouettes through the veil of smoke.

The ruthless bandits entered the camp, armed with gleaming sabers and cracking whips, their cruel laughter mingling with the roar of the flames. They came neither to pillage nor to take prisoners, but to destroy, driven by a thirst for chaos. The slaves, poorly fed and exhausted, had no chance in a direct confrontation. Their chains, which had until then held them captive, suddenly became deadly fetters, preventing them from fleeing the merciless assault.

In the chaos, Arden found a strength he didn't know he had. Taking advantage of the confusion, he managed to free himself from his bonds by using a sharp fragment of metal, hidden for months in the lining of his miserable diaper. Around him, the camp was engulfed in flames, but instead of letting fear paralyze him, he took action.

With a determination born of desperation, Arden fought his way through the burning camp, guiding a small group of slaves toward a little-known gap in the fence, a discreet passage he had spotted during his rare moments of supervised release. . Their flight was perilous, every shadow could hide an enemy, every crack under their feet could betray them.

But Arden, despite his young age and his body weakened by years of servitude, possessed the soul of a leader. He encouraged others, whispered words of courage, guiding them through the fiery labyrinth of their prison. Their advance was an act of pure rebellion, a defiance in the face of death itself.

When they finally emerged on the other side, the first light of dawn was beginning to pierce the darkness. They were exhausted, injured, but alive. Behind them, the camp was nothing but an inferno, a tomb for those who had not been able to escape. But before them lay the promise of the freedom they had dreamed of, a vast and dangerous world, but where each step took them further from the hell they had known.

With the rising of the sun, Arden and his fellow escapees vowed to never forget those they had left behind, and to fight for a life they never had the right to live. The road would be long and strewn with pitfalls, but for the first time in a long time, they were masters of their destiny.