The sun was high in the sky, its scorching heat turning the wasteland below into a barren, almost uninhabitable expanse. Endless dunes of seemingly red sand stretched as far as the eye could see.
"Tch," said a guard, his eyes fixed upon what he considered dirty vermin.
In front of him was a caravan of war prisoners. When the war between the Listvynen Empire and the Confederate Union of Laukia had started, the High King of Laukia had ordered all soldiers to invade and capture as many people as possible from Listvynen's outskirts, forcing many poor souls to endure torture, regardless of gender or age.
But the war did not last as long as Laukia had foreseen. The prisoners were supposed to be escorted back to Listvynen to avoid further conflict.
Despite the fragile alliance, the people of Laukia still hated Listvynen.
After walking for what seemed like an eternity, the caravan stopped, and the guards began setting up tents. During this time, the prisoners were often tormented, especially the women. Those of age suffered the worst.
The guards ruthlessly forced the men to do all the work while they rested, drank, or played card games. They had nothing to worry about. Even if news of the torment reached Listvynen, the emperor could do nothing without risking another war. The alliance was fragile enough already, and Listvynen desperately needed resources from the various parts of the Deftor continent under Laukia's rule.
Once the camp was established, the soldiers forced the captives to prepare another "pleasure tent," where the women of age were compelled to enter. Many hid behind others, but when words failed, force was used, and the women were sent inside.
"This is monstrous! Only monsters with feelings would do this! They are humans too, not sex toys!" shouted a prisoner in protest. His scream made no difference.
Among the group of war prisoners sat a pale young boy with an extremely frail body. His eyes were dull, purple, and lifeless, yet deep within them flickered a small spark of hope.
He was exhausted, malnourished, and dehydrated. His body used most of its energy just to move.
He dreamed about the old days. Just him and his family, living in the outskirts. They were poor, but life had been simple and bearable. He had school friends and had even managed to keep his marks up.
Sadly, all of it was gone. His family and friends had perished in the war, leaving him utterly alone.
"Caelum, stop daydreaming and help us set the tents. At least be useful for once!"
An irritating voice snapped him out of his thoughts. The voice belonged to Kilori, a fellow captive.
Kilori was a short man with a noticeable belly. Despite going days without food or water, his belly remained his most prominent feature.
"I already helped set up the tents for the soldiers. Speaking of which, I didn't see you lift a finger. Fat moron," sneered Caelum. The words were true. Kilori was a lazy man who liked bullying others into submission. But Caelum paid him no mind. Kilori could never bully him or his family.
At Caelum's words, Kilori flustered, then became angry, then defensive, before finally giving up with a tired sigh.
"Can you please help? The soldiers said no food would be distributed until all the tents were set. The more hands, the better."
Tch. Those soldiers were far too demanding, Caelum thought, inwardly sneering. His tired body had already set up one tent. Doing any more would make him collapse—or worse, die.
"I told you, I already set up three tents. If I do one more, I will collapse. So no."
Once all the tents were set up, the male prisoners were led into five cramped, disgusting tents. They offered no protection from the elements or the scorpions that scuttled across the sand. Their only purpose was to allow the soldiers to claim, if asked, that tents had been provided.
I can't wait to reach Listvynen and get out of this hellhole. I hope all the soldiers die. I hope they all suffer the same pain I went through, Caelum thought bitterly.
He twisted and turned, thinking of what he would do once free. It was a good way to pass the time.
Before long, he could hear the scurrying of various creatures. Most animals in this godforsaken desert were nocturnal.
Eventually, everything went quiet. It wasn't abnormal, but it still made him uneasy.
'Man, can't I just go to sleep already? I'm starting to feel like a scorpion is crawling on me,' he thought.
For some reason, he could not sleep. Every time he closed his eyes, instinct screamed at him to open them.
Finally, he heard the first signs of human activity.
'Finally, the soldiers woke up again.'
But the sounds were odd. Instead of groggy shouts or boots treading the sand, there was a metallic clinking.
Maybe they are just taking weapons. That's why it sounds so… wrong, he thought. But deep down, he knew the theory was flawed. The only reason soldiers would arm themselves was to fight monsters. If that were the case, they would have evacuated the camp and woken everyone.
His stomach twisted as the sounds drew closer. His eyes darted across the tent, searching for something to defend himself. They landed on a blunt pocket knife.
Silently, Caelum grabbed it and stared toward the entrance.
Slowly, the zip of the tent opened, and an eye peeked in.
Then all hell broke loose.