Story 393: Chains and Shadows

Zara's hands were bound tight with coarse rope, the fibers biting into her wrists. Two Reapers flanked her on either side, dragging her through the snow-dusted forest like she was some trophy. The pain in her ribs from the fall radiated with every step, but Zara kept her face blank, refusing to give them the satisfaction of seeing her struggle.

The outpost loomed ahead, a crude fortress of steel and concrete hidden deep within the woods. Floodlights illuminated its towering walls, casting long, eerie shadows through the trees. The sharp buzz of electrified fencing crackled in the cold air, a grim reminder of the trap she’d walked into.

Stay calm. Stay sharp.

As they entered the gates, Zara caught glimpses of other prisoners—survivors like her, ragged and hollow-eyed—being herded like cattle. Anger simmered in her chest, but she forced it down. Rage would come later, when she needed it most.

“Keep moving,” growled one of the Reapers, shoving her forward.