Night of Hunger and Rejection

  The wind howled through the narrow alleys, carrying a cold that pierced the bones. In a forgotten corner of the village of "Wenx," a boy, barely seven years old, stood trembling from hunger and cold. His frail hand lifted, knocking on a wooden door with weak fingers. His voice was soft, yet heavy with desperate pleading:

  "Is there any food? Please..."

  Moments passed before the door swung open violently. A woman with a stern face appeared, a broom in her hand, her eyes filled with disgust.

  "Get lost, you filthy wretch! Don’t dirty my doorstep!"

  She pushed the boy harshly, sending him sprawling into the muddy ground. She didn’t spare him another glance before slamming the door shut behind her, as if his mere existence was nothing more than a minor nuisance in her cold night.

  The boy slowly got up, his stomach screaming for food, but no one listened. He had nowhere to go, only the dark streets that promised nothing but loneliness.

  His feet carried him to the "Sanctuary of the Forgotten"—a place where beggars and outcasts gathered, where hunger and slow death ruled supreme. He hesitantly approached, looking at a frail man sitting by a weak fire and asked in a quiet voice:

  "Do you have any food?"

  The only response was a harsh punch to the head, knocking him to the ground.

  "Sleep without food and let death take you faster!" the man growled before turning away, indifferent.

  The boy lay on the cold ground, his small hands clutching his empty stomach.

  There was no food.

  There was no one.

  A case of theft: this story is not rightfully on Amazon; if you spot it, report the violation.

  There was nothing but the darkness of the night and its cruelty.

  ---

  Slavery… or Death?

  The night had not ended, but it had grown darker.

  The boy lifted his head, but he was no longer a boy. Blood stained his skin, and his eyes stared into those of a massive man standing before him, a cruel smirk on his lips.

  "Choose, you filthy wretch… slavery or death?"

  He looked at him with cold, empty eyes. He knew there was no escape, that the world had no mercy for someone like him.

  One word slipped from his lips, colder than the wind:

  "Slavery."

  And the moment he spoke it, he fell to his knees—not from exhaustion, but from the crushing weight of defeat. There had never been a real choice, yet he still felt as though he had betrayed himself.

  The leader chuckled, stepping forward, grabbing his face roughly, forcing him to look into his dark eyes.

  "Good choice, scum."

  Then he signaled to the guards, who seized him like a worthless animal.

  "Take him. Teach him his place."

  ---

  The Branding – The Seal of Slavery

  The cell was dark, damp, filled with the stench of sweat and dried blood. In the corners, other slaves sat with hollow faces and lifeless eyes. No one dared to look at him.

  "New, huh?"

  The voice came from a thin man, his face scarred, a faint blue mark on his forehead. He stepped closer and whispered:

  "Tomorrow, they will brand you… Don’t scream too much. It won’t help."

  The warning wasn’t necessary. He already knew—screaming never saved anyone.

  The next day, he was dragged into an open yard. The older slaves and the newly captured ones stood in silence, watching. In the center, a massive man held a metal rod, its tip glowing red-hot with fire.

  "Joe, right?"

  He didn’t answer. But they didn’t need his response.

  They threw him to the ground, held him down, and pressed the burning iron onto his skin.

  Then came the pain.

  Pain that wasn’t just physical… but as if his very soul was being seared.

  The mark wasn’t just etched onto his flesh—it was a seal on his fate.

  A slave… forever.

  ---

  The Pit of Slaves – The Beginning of Collapse

  The first night after the branding…

  The pain wasn’t the worst part.

  He knew the burn would heal eventually, but what he didn’t know how to escape was the silence. A silence that swallowed him like an endless void.

  He was in a cold, muddy pit, where new slaves were thrown as part of their "purification."

  No food.

  No water.

  No light.

  Only isolation… and delusions.

  At first, he tried to hold on to hope.

  "I will survive."

  "I will find a way out."

  "I will not die here."

  But as time passed, his thoughts changed… His own voice was no longer his own.

  "Why are you trying?"

  "How long have you really been living?"

  "How many times have you wished for death?"

  "Wouldn’t it be easier to surrender?"

  The more the whispers echoed inside his mind, the heavier the darkness became.

  Until he saw something.

  In the farthest, blackest corner of the pit, two eyes were staring at him.

  Not human.

  Not beast.

  Something else entirely…

  Then came the voice.

  Not from outside.

  Not from within.

  From somewhere else entirely.

  "I have seen you."

  It wasn’t just words—it was a promise. A threat. A deal unspoken.

  And in that moment, he realized something terrifying.

  There was something in this darkness that wanted him to live.

  But at what cost?