A Cruel Awakening

The darkness was suffocating. A relentless weight pressed down on my chest. Pain radiated through my body, sharp and unforgiving. Every muscle ached, and a dull throb pulsed in my temples. I couldn't feel my legs or the tips of my fingers. Was it the numbness of impending death or the brutal aftermath of daily beatings? My mind swam in a sea of confusion and agony.

Is this how it ends? Is this my fate?

"Wake up, monster," barked the guard, his voice a harsh snap that dragged me back to my grim reality. "Did you think we'd let you die that easily? Not after what you did to those villagers."

What was he talking about? Why was I here? Why was I chained? What villagers?

"Don't give me that look!" he spat, raising the whip. The leather cut through the air with a sharp crack, but the sting barely registered. Fourteen days—maybe more—had passed, and I'd lost track. But why was I being tortured?

"You bastard, you don't even scream like you used to. Maybe it's time the lord made a decision about you." The guard's laughter was harsh and grating, a cruel sound that echoed in the cell.

As the guard locked my cell and walked away, memories flooded back. How did it all start? How did I end up in this hell?

I once led a simple life with my father and three siblings in Heypher, a village nestled in the southern Empire. Heypher was a place of tranquil beauty, a tapestry of green fields and rolling hills. Our home sat on the edge of the village, surrounded by a patchwork of farms and orchards. The air was always fresh, filled with the earthy scent of tilled soil and the sweet aroma of blooming flowers. A small river meandered through the village, its waters sparkling under the sun, providing life to the crops and a playground for the children.

My father was a farmer, toiling from dawn until dusk to provide for us. He was a sturdy man, his hands calloused from years of hard work, but his eyes were always kind. Our mother had passed away after giving birth to the twins, Saqian and Taqian. While our father worked, my sister Hana and I took on the responsibility of raising our younger siblings. The village itself was a haven of peace, where everyone knew each other, and life moved to the gentle rhythm of the seasons.

This village... it felt like a prison to me. Day in and day out, the same repetitive tasks. Feeding the livestock, tending the crops, mending the fences. The lush greenery that surrounded us, the golden fields swaying in the breeze, and the vibrant tapestry of village life all seemed to blur into monotony. I felt like a cog in a never-ending machine. My days were filled with the monotonous rhythm of farm life. I often found myself grumbling about the endless chores. I longed for excitement, for something more than the mundane cycle of village life.

I didn't appreciate the simple blessings I had: a loving family, a safe home, a community that cared for each other. The quiet mornings filled with birdsong, the warm evenings spent by the hearth, and the laughter of my siblings were all treasures I took for granted. I would sit by the river, skipping stones and dreaming of adventures beyond the horizon, not realizing that I was already living a life many would envy.

Hana, fourteen at the time, taught Saqian and Taqian to read and count. She was, and still is, a mother figure to all of us. Her patience and kindness were boundless, in stark contrast to my restless dissatisfaction.

"Su, you should be grateful for what we have," she often said. "Not everyone is as fortunate."

I would roll my eyes, brushing off her words. "I know, I know. But it wouldn't hurt to have a bit of excitement now and then."

Excitement. Adventure. I wanted to see the world, to experience life beyond the confines of our village. The villagers were content with their simple lives, but I couldn't understand it. How could they be satisfied with so little? There was a whole world out there, and I was determined to see it. Little did I know, the excitement I craved would come, but not in the way I imagined.

Heypher wasn't a poor village. It had gold and mana stone mines, essential resources for the military. Conflicts among nobles over the territory led to a truce to share the resources, or so it seemed.

Rumors circulated about a ruthless bandit group attacking nearby villages. The village chief dismissed the threat, trusting the high-ranked nobles and officials protecting the mines. It was a grave mistake.

One peaceful morning, screams echoed from the village center. I hid the twins and ran to find Hana and my father. Bandits were attacking.

The bandits were a ragged, vicious lot. Clad in mismatched armor and wielding crude weapons, they moved with a savage grace. Their leader was a hulking brute, his face marred by scars and a perpetual sneer. His eyes, cold and calculating, scanned the village with predatory hunger.

"Don't leave anyone alive! Take everything valuable and bring in the women and children!" The bandit leader's voice boomed over the chaos.

Panic gripped me as I searched for my family. I caught my reflection in a puddle—a fleeting glimpse of my face. Dark, unruly hair framed my pale, gaunt features. My doe-like dark eyes, usually bright with mischief, now wide with fear. I was tall and lanky, my clothes hanging loosely on my frame. I had always been a little too thin from all the work and too little food, but now I looked like a ghost.

I heard a scream—Hana's scream. Rushing toward it, I saw a bandit assaulting my sister. Paralyzed by fear, I knew moving would mean death, but I couldn't stand it.

"Get the fuck away from my sister!" I shouted, charging at the bandit. He punched me senseless, and as I faded into unconsciousness, I cursed my weakness and swore revenge.

I awoke in the dungeon, cold and aching, accused of being with the bandits who massacred my village. I clung to the hope that someone would realize I was a victim too, but that hope dimmed quickly.

Days turned into weeks. Chained, beaten, and barely fed, I was treated worse than a guard dog. My cell was dark and damp, the stench of mold and decay filling the air. One day, as I braced myself for another round of torment, I heard a voice I despised—the bandit who had assaulted my sister.

The bandit had a face you couldn't forget, even if you tried. His skin was pockmarked and greasy, his hair a tangled mess of knots. His eyes were a piercing green, filled with malice and arrogance. His lips twisted into a sneer as he spoke, revealing yellowed teeth.

"I need to speak with the lord," the bandit sneered, his voice filled with arrogance. "The leader wants to discuss our share of the Heypher treasure."

"You bastards never get enough, do you?" the guard responded curtly. "I'll inform the lord when he returns from the capital."

"Fine," the bandit said, his footsteps echoing as he walked away.

Stunned, my mind went blank. The lord, the supposed protector of our village, was conspiring with the bandits. Rage and despair churned within me, but I had no outlet for either.

"Almost forgot about you," the guard said, turning his attention back to me. "Don't worry, I'll give you all the love you deserve." He chuckled darkly, a twisted smile spreading across his face as he readied his whip.

As the guard beat me, I tried to make sense of it all. The pain was excruciating, but my mind was consumed with thoughts of my family. They were in grave danger, and there was nothing I could do to protect them.

Days passed, each one longer and more brutal than the last. My body was a canvas of bruises and cuts, my spirit fraying at the edges. Then, one day, the lord himself visited my cell.

The lord was a striking figure, tall and imposing. His blond hair was impeccably groomed, and his blue eyes were icy and calculating. He wore a richly embroidered tunic, a stark contrast to the filth of my cell. His presence exuded an air of superiority and cold detachment.

"Oh my, they didn't go easy on you, did they?" he said with a mocking smile, standing over me with an air of detachment.

"You ordered this," I coughed, my voice weak but defiant.

"Don't get me wrong. I'm not into this kind of play, but loyal dogs do need their toys and treats." His laughter was cold and detached, as if he were discussing the weather.

I had to hide my knowledge of his treachery to protect my family. "I am a victim. Please, let me out, my lord!" I pleaded, trying to sound desperate and broken.

"Based on what proof?" he asked, his eyes glinting with cruel amusement. "When the guards arrived, you were the only one alive."

"I'm a farmer's son. I couldn't have killed so many people," I argued, my voice trembling.

"That's no proof, peasant child, but you'll be out soon. Thank your father. I never knew people could toss their lives so easily for their offspring. It was quite the show." His smirk deepened, his eyes glinting with cruel satisfaction.

"What do you mean?" I asked, dread pooling in my stomach.

"Your father took your place and got executed to atone for your sins. We made him hang himself to show his... resolve to save his son. What a remarkably stupid man he was. Now I'm bound by my promise to let you go, or it would hurt my reputation." His words hit me like a hammer, shattering the last vestiges of my hope.

"No... no!" I screamed, tears streaming down my face. "You're lying! He wouldn't—"

"Oh, but he did," the lord interrupted, his voice cold and mocking. "It was quite the spectacle. The villagers watched as he hung himself, believing it would save you."

My father? Killed himself? The man who raised and taught me everything was gone. I couldn't do anything but cry. Despair welled up inside me, a black hole of grief that threatened to swallow me whole. I remembered my father's calloused hands, rough from years of working the fields, yet always gentle when he held us. His laugh, warm and hearty, was the anchor of our family. The countless nights he spent telling us stories by the fire, his eyes twinkling with love and pride. All of it, gone in an instant, replaced by a gaping void that echoed with his absence.

The lord's words echoed in my mind, a cruel refrain. My father, the man who had taught me strength and resilience, had sacrificed himself for me. And I was powerless to stop it. Powerless to avenge him. The weight of my helplessness pressed down on me, heavier than any chain. Each tear that fell felt like it was carving a path down my face, etching the pain into my very soul.

"My promise was to let you go. But he didn't specify where. You'll live the rest of your miserable life in the Land of Exile. I can't kill you, and I can't let you live. It complicates my plans." His laughter was sharp and biting, as if my pain amused him.

"I will never forget this! I will take your life and everything that you cherish, you hear me? I will kill you even if it'll be the last thing I'll do, lord!" I cried, my voice breaking. The taste of blood filled my mouth as I bit my tongue, the physical pain a mere shadow of the agony in my heart.

"Energetic, aren't we? This is why I can't stand peasants. Guards, throw him a farewell party. It's his last night here." His laughter trailed off, a chilling reminder of his cruelty.

As the lord walked away, I cursed everyone who came near me. Even as I was beaten, the fury in my eyes burned brighter than any blade as my heart ached with a grief too deep for words. I clung to my rage, letting it fuel the fire that now consumed my heart. The morning came, and I was blindfolded and escorted to a carriage. Thus, my journey into a greater and crueler hell began—the Land of Exile.