Chapter 1: The Edge of Sleep
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**Chapter 1: The Edge of Sleep**
The stench of unwashed bodies clung to the air, thick and suffocating. Cramped inside the slave quarters, Ray sat with his back pressed against the damp wooden wall, staring into the dim candlelight. His limbs ached, his stomach was a hollow pit, and exhaustion gnawed at his mind like a starving beast.
But he couldn't sleep. 'Not yet. Not here.'
A few feet away, the other slaves lay sprawled on the dirt-covered floor, their slow breaths blending into the silence. Ray envied them—their ignorance, their lack of fear.
But they didn't have a knife hovering over their throats. He did.
The young slaver stood near the entrance, his posture relaxed, fingers idly spinning a rusted blade. His face, handsome in a cruel way, was painted with boredom.
But his eyes lingered on Ray. Waiting.
'He's done this before.'
Ray had seen the others—ones who had dozed off too soon. The way their lifeless bodies were dragged out in the morning, throats slit, their blood barely worth the effort to clean.
No one questioned it. No one cared.
If he closed his eyes now, he wouldn't wake up again.
Ray clenched his fists, nails digging into his palms. 'Stay awake. Stay awake.'
His body screamed for rest. The world blurred at the edges. His head dipped forward—
A sharp breath. A flicker of movement.
He jerked upright just in time to see the young slaver smirking at him.
"Tired?" the man whispered, voice smooth as silk.
Ray said nothing. Words were dangerous. If he acknowledged him, it would become a game.
The footsteps came before the slaver could press further. Heavy. Measured. Authority in every step.
The air shifted. Yusuf had arrived.
The moment he entered, the atmosphere changed. Unlike the other slavers, Yusuf didn't entertain cruelty. He wasn't kind, but he was fair. He followed the laws to the letter, treating his inspections like a sacred duty.
The young slaver straightened instantly, tucking his knife away.
Yusuf's gaze swept the room. Sharp. Calculating.He was a man who had no patience for disorder, and in his presence, even the filth-ridden slaves sat straighter, too afraid to breathe wrong.
Then, his eyes landed on Ray.
A flicker of something crossed his face—too fast to read.
Then, before Ray could react, Yusuf stepped forward and grabbed his wrist.
A cold chill shot down Ray's spine.'No.'
Yusuf turned his hand over, his thumb pressing into the sensitive skin beneath his palm. Checking for a pulse? No. Feeling for something else.
A heartbeat later, Yusuf's grip tightened. His jaw clenched.
Ray's breath hitched. He knew.
The mark was there. The curse had chosen him.
Silence settled over the room like a noose.
Yusuf exhaled sharply and let go. "Get up."
Ray obeyed, his legs shaky beneath him. He barely noticed the way the other slaves edged away, as if afraid the curse would spread.
The young slaver grinned, looking almost delighted. "Cursed sleep?"
Yusuf shot him a glare. The smile disappeared instantly.
"You know the law," Yusuf said, his tone flat. "He's to be kept separate."
The young slaver shrugged. "If you say so."
No protest. No argument. Because he knew—if Yusuf hadn't found out, Ray would've been dead by morning.
The weight of that realization settled in his bones as two guards seized his arms, dragging him from the room.
They tossed him into a smaller, darker cell. No windows. Just a mat on the ground and cold, damp walls.
Yusuf stood at the entrance, watching. His expression unreadable. Then, without another word, he shut the door.
Darkness. Silence.
He was alone.
Ray's body sagged. The fight was over. His vision swam.
For the first time, he allowed sleep to take him.
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A vast abyss stretched before him, a place where the sky was an endless void, devouring all light. The ground beneath his feet cracked like brittle bone, a deep crimson glow pulsing from below.
A shadow loomed in the distance, shifting and unnatural.
It was waiting.
The whispers slithered through the void, curling around him.
*"Welcome to the trial.*"
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