The Forsaken Sovereign

A young, black-haired man cautiously walked between two half-crumbled brick houses. He clutched an old, worn-out leather satchel with a firm grip, surveying his surroundings as he glanced through remnants of a glass window.

Beyond the splintered wooden frame, he saw the cold hue of dusk setting on the horizon. The sound of crashing waves reached his ears, and he smelled a faint hint of salt in the air.

He was close. A few more steps and he could start his journey for freedom.

The young man slowly raised his hand, and two shadows moved behind him. As they approached, the fading sunlight allowed him to take a closer look at them; a wrinkled old woman in her fifties, with bronze skin and graying hair, holding a black-haired little girl barely above thirteen with the same complexion.

That was his family... or at least part of it.

The young man retracted his gaze and glanced at his silver bracelet. Unkempt and callused fingers delicately stroked its finely crafted edges as he studied its strange inscriptions for the hundredth time, perhaps out of habit.

Few males would choose to wear this type of accessory in his country, and the precious material it was made from would have stirred anyone in his situation to sell it.

Yet, despite the countless hurdles he had faced, he could never bear to part with it. That was because it was the last memento of his late father—the sole item that would remind him of his happiest days as a child.

Since his father's untimely death, his family was thrown into abject poverty, and he had been forced to quit school and support his ill mother. Years passed quickly, and he did plenty of unsavory acts, such as stealing, threatening, and hurting others to feed his own.

Starving himself for days at a time was common practice just so his sister could eat a full meal—of that, he never felt any regret.

One penny after the other, he had managed to save enough money for the three of them to escape the despair of their country and reach the land of hope.

On the other side of the Mediterranean Sea lay the only source of salvation for them, and he was willing to do everything to offer his family a chance to experience normal life in this world.

Darkness soon covered the sky, and streams of flickering lights ebbed peacefully on the beach, reflecting the starry night.

The young man's gaze expectantly locked on the nearby reef, behind which something quickly emerged. A sailboat silently approached the shore, revealing a shadowed figure on its deck. It flashed a light in three rapid succession, indicating that the coast was clear.

That was the signal.

The young man glimpsed at his family before leaving the brick houses' cover, scurrying on the sand with light steps. Multiple silhouettes followed from either side of the beach, hurrying towards the sailboat like moths to a flame.

He knew most of them, as people with the same goals tended to aggregate easily.

A grisly-looking man jumped from the deck, keeping a hand on the bow while he eyed the "merchandise" he was about to smuggle. His short black hair, copper skin, and unkempt beard gave him a somehow dangerous appearance, contrasting with the stained white shirt and battered denim jeans he wore.

Since the young man and his family arrived first, the smuggler sized them up with a look of contempt before he spat, "You brought the money?"

The young man nodded and removed the leather satchel from around his neck, feeling his heart numb as he parted with it. Those were his life's savings, the key to obtaining the freedom he had yearned for so much.

The smuggler inspected the wads of cash with barely hidden delight, hastily counted them, and then gestured for them to board the sailboat.

A beaming smile swept over the young man's face as his creeping nervousness calmed. His mother and sister were seemingly relieved, helping each other while they climbed up the bow. They found a spot on the deck and huddled together, knowing their journey was about to begin.

Little by little, the sailboat filled with merchandise, many familiar, some complete strangers to the young man. They were all stacked on the deck, making the small vessel wobble dangerously to the front. It was a scary experience for his little sister since she had never boarded a ship before.

Although they tried to be quiet, the atmosphere was clearly festive. This was the first step toward their dreams for everyone here, and none of them could contain their joy.

Perhaps it was due to the sudden relaxation or his inability to believe that he was so close to his goal, but the young man felt a little uneasy. Quite some time passed since the last group had climbed, yet there was no sign of the smuggler.

Unease soon turned into crippling anxiety, and the young man abruptly stood up, sweeping the shore with a piercing gaze. Under the feeble moonlight, he saw a running figure hurriedly leaving the beach with a bulging pouch.

The smuggler! Why is he running away?

As the young man started panicking, he heard a sudden noise from the cockpit. The door burst open, and a large group of men circled around the deck, armed to the teeth. The sight of so many guns made him dizzy, and he nearly stumbled into the water.

None of them seemed to have uniforms or badges, so it could only mean one thing.

Human traffickers.

Everyone reached that conclusion at the same time, and chaos immediately erupted. Those who still had hope in them jumped over the metal bars to flee, while others remained in a daze, refusing to believe that all their efforts were for naught.

No, this can't be... The young man tried to escape with his family, but the sound of gunshots made him stagger.

He froze for a moment, enough for the human traffickers to catch up. A strong hand tackled him to the deck's surface, and he tasted the foul mix of saltwater and blood. From the corner of his eye, he saw someone push his fleeing mother against the bow's metal bars, and the sound of shattering bones reached his ears.

The powerless sobs of his little sister resonated weakly amidst the desperate cries as they forcefully dragged her back to the sailboat, her face bloodied.

"No, please! Not them! Everything but them!" The young man struggled as he bit, punched, and kicked everything in range.

Once his restraints weakened, he got up and pounced on the trafficker holding his sister, yelling in a half-maddened state.

A gunshot rang mid-way through his desperate attempt, and something warm seeped endlessly from his stomach. He tried to take another step, but his legs buckled, and he fell again.

"Mom! Brother! Help me!" The young man's sister flailed helplessly, but a heavy grunt echoed, followed by the booming impact of a punch.

There were no more cries.

Battling with unconsciousness, the young man raised his head, discovering the sprawled corpse of his limp mother, among many others, sliding down the hull.

Tears flowed down his bloodied cheeks while he searched for his sister, only to see her stacked like a clump of meat alongside other children, most of them knocked out.

He wanted to scream... He wanted to yell, if only to evacuate the agony he was feeling right now. But who would respond? Who would save them?

All this time, he lived a miserable life and sacrificed so much for his dream, only for it to be snuffed out just like that. If he didn't experience true despair before, now he knew its taste.

"Damn it. Damn it all." He clutched the silver bracelet with his remaining strength, stifling heavy sobs underneath his cursing. "Why is life so unfair? Why..."

As his voice trailed, exhaustion swept over his body. His wits slowly quieted along with his anger, replaced by the lingering sadness of one who lost everything so easily.

The next moment, the nameless young man died.