Chains of Darkness

The days that followed blurred together into an endless nightmare. The van's interior was cold and unyielding, and Aarne had no sense of time or place as it rumbled through the desolate landscapes of northern Europe. The men who had taken him spoke little, their voices low and terse when they did. They were seasoned criminals, their faces hard and their eyes devoid of sympathy.Aarne huddled in the corner of the van, trying to make himself as small as possible. The rough ropes around his wrists had bitten into his skin, leaving angry red marks. He had stopped trying to free himself; every attempt only left him more exhausted and desperate. The van's metal walls pressed in on him, amplifying his fear with every passing hour.Once, they had stopped to feed him—a crust of stale bread and a small bottle of water. One of the men, a towering brute with a cruel smile, had watched him eat, as if Aarne were some kind of curiosity."Eat up, kid," the man had said, his voice dripping with mockery. "You'll need your strength where you're going."Aarne hadn't responded. He couldn't find the words, nor the courage, to speak. Fear had taken root in his heart, and with it came a growing realization: he was completely at their mercy.The van continued its relentless journey, crossing borders that Aarne didn't know existed. When it finally stopped, the men dragged him out into a world that was as foreign as it was terrifying. He squinted against the bright sunlight, blinking as his eyes adjusted to the light. They were in a city—larger than anything Aarne had ever seen. The buildings towered above him, casting long shadows that seemed to stretch on forever. The air was different too, heavy with the smell of gasoline and distant sea salt.The men exchanged a few words with someone who was waiting for them—a man in a dark suit who seemed to be in charge. They spoke in a language Aarne didn't understand, their voices sharp and businesslike. Aarne was shoved forward, his legs stumbling beneath him as he tried to keep up. They led him into a building, down a narrow hallway, and into a small, windowless room. The door closed behind him with a heavy thud.Aarne stood in the middle of the room, his heart pounding in his chest. The walls seemed to close in on him, suffocating him with their silence. He could feel the panic rising within him, but he forced it down, knowing that there was no escape. Not yet.Hours passed—maybe even days. There was no way to tell. The only light came from a flickering bulb overhead, and the only sounds were the distant murmurs of voices beyond the door. No one came to speak to him; no one offered him any explanation. He was alone, trapped in a place he didn't understand, surrounded by people who saw him as nothing more than an object, a commodity.Eventually, the door creaked open, and two men stepped inside. They were dressed in the same dark suits as the man he had seen earlier, their expressions cold and calculating. They exchanged a glance, then one of them stepped forward and removed Aarne's gag. The boy gasped, his throat dry and sore, but he said nothing.The man who had removed the gag crouched down to Aarne's level, his eyes narrowing as he studied the boy's face. "You understand me?" he asked, his voice heavily accented but clear.Aarne nodded, too frightened to do anything else."Good," the man said, straightening up. "Here's how this works. You do as you're told, and you might just survive this. Try to escape, and you won't be so lucky. Understand?"Again, Aarne nodded."Smart boy," the man muttered. He motioned to the other man, who approached Aarne with a metal chain in hand. Before Aarne could react, the chain was fastened around his ankle, the cold metal biting into his skin. The other end of the chain was secured to a ring in the floor, leaving Aarne with only a few feet of movement."You're going to be sold," the man explained, as if he were discussing the weather. "There's a market for boys like you. Some people pay good money for a pretty face."Aarne's stomach turned at the man's words, the reality of his situation crashing down on him like a wave. He wanted to cry out, to scream for help, but he knew it would be useless. There was no one here who cared, no one who would come to his rescue.The men left, locking the door behind them, leaving Aarne chained and alone in the dark. He sat there for what felt like an eternity, his mind racing with thoughts of escape, of survival, of anything that could save him from this nightmare.But as the hours dragged on, the reality of his situation began to sink in. There was no escape. The chain on his ankle was a constant reminder of that. He was trapped, a prisoner in a world that had no place for him.The days that followed were a blur of cold, hunger, and fear. The men who had taken him came and went, occasionally bringing food or water, but they never spoke to him. They treated him like an animal, something to be kept alive until it was time to be sold.And then, one day, it happened. The door opened, and a new man entered the room. He was older, his face lined with age and experience. He looked Aarne up and down, his expression unreadable."This one," he said simply, his voice like gravel. "He'll do."Before Aarne could comprehend what was happening, the chain was removed from his ankle, and he was dragged out of the room. The older man led him through a series of hallways, each one darker and more oppressive than the last, until they emerged into a larger room filled with people—men and women, all speaking in low tones, their eyes cold and calculating.Aarne was shoved onto a small platform, and for the first time, he realized what was happening. He was being auctioned. The people in the room weren't just random strangers—they were buyers, here to purchase him like livestock.The auctioneer began to speak, his voice echoing in the room, but Aarne barely heard him. His mind was numb, his body frozen with fear. He couldn't comprehend the magnitude of what was happening to him, couldn't process the fact that his life was being traded away in exchange for money.Bids were placed, the numbers rising steadily as the auctioneer called out each new offer. Aarne stood there, his heart pounding in his chest, his eyes wide with terror. He wanted to scream, to run, to do anything to escape, but he was paralyzed, his feet rooted to the spot.And then, it was over. The auctioneer called out the final bid, and a man stepped forward to claim his prize. Aarne was dragged off the platform and handed over to his new owner, a man who didn't even bother to look at him as he signed the necessary paperwork.Aarne's world had been reduced to a single, terrifying truth: he was no longer free. He had been sold, a piece of property in the hands of a stranger. And whatever lay ahead for him, he knew it would be far worse than anything he had experienced before.As he was led away, the man who had purchased him finally looked down at him, his expression hard and unyielding."Welcome to your new life, boy," he said, his voice devoid of any warmth. "You belong to me now."Aarne said nothing, his mind a swirling storm of fear and anger. He had been taken from everything he knew, thrown into a world where he had no control, no power. But deep within him, the fire of anger still burned, a small, defiant flame that refused to be extinguished.He didn't know how, or when, but he made a silent vow to himself: one day, he would be free. And when that day came, he would make sure that those who had taken everything from him would pay.For now, though, he was trapped in the darkness, bound by chains both real and metaphorical. And as the door closed behind him, sealing him in his new reality, Aarne knew that his journey was far from over. It had only just begun.