Chapter 1: The Orphans of the Pit

The Pit was a hole in the belly of E'na, a world apart, devoured by rust and misery. A place where light was rare, where the word dream was a word barely whispered. And beneath the rubble, between cracked pipes and weeping walls, they lived.

The children of the Pit.

Their skinny bodies leaned against the damp walls, their hands full of dirt, and their eyes burned with a hunger that was never satisfied.

In this world of silence and filth, they were their only family. Not brothers or sisters by blood, but bound by survival, by fear, by that immense emptiness filling their bellies and their hearts.

There was the Mute who never said a word. Ever. Not because he didn't want to, but because words had broken somewhere in his throat. That was his name or rather his nickname down here: a boy whose silence weighed more than any spoken word.

His face hollowed by hunger, his eyes sharp like a wildcat's, he moved with the speed of a feral cat, always alert. He looked like the youngest and most fragile at first glance, but no one dared provoke him. When he struck, it was with dry, sudden violence.

Around him, there were about ten of them. Lina, the unofficial leader, a girl with filthy hair and clenched teeth, who had taken the lead when the former one died. She almost never smiled, but everyone knew their lives were in her hands. Her strength wasn't just in her fists, but in her iron will.

Jem and Rash completed the close guard, their shadows stuck to Lina. Jem was the most sarcastic, the most irritable, always ready to mock to ease the pressure, even though his hands were dirty, cracked, his nails broken. Rash was the silent mass, broad shoulders, hard gaze, always ready to explode but also to protect.

The Mute was the last link in that fragile chain.

That morning, they had woken up in a damp old alley, barely lit by the pale light of a hanging bulb. The air was thick with dust and nauseating odors, the silence broken by the regular drip of a water leak.

Plok… plok… plok…

A monotonous, nagging sound, almost soothing in that chaos.

The Mute was sitting in a corner, his back against the cold wall. His stomach had been screaming for days, but he didn't move. He watched, always, everything around him. Every slightest movement, every smallest sound.

Lina came closer, dragging her tired silhouette.

— You still haven't found anything? she said, her voice hoarse but firm.

The Mute slowly nodded, as always.

Jem, on the other side, was chewing on a broken nail.

— We're gonna die if this keeps up, he growled.

— We need to move, said Rash, standing up. There's nothing left here, we have to get out.

— We can't just walk out on the street like that, Lina replied. The Steel Wolves gang is out there.

The Mute finally stood up. He grabbed a piece of rusty metal and held it tight, ready.

— Doesn't matter, murmured Lina, meeting his gaze. Tonight, we move.

The group stood up in silence, ready to leave their meager shelter.

Their frail bodies slipped into the shadows, huddling close to one another for warmth. Fear was palpable, a beast hiding in every look, but also a strange strength that made them invincible together.

They knew each other by heart. Each other's secrets, hidden pains, invisible scars.

Jem wiped away a tear without meaning to.

— You okay? asked Lina, surprised.

— Yeah… I'm just hungry, he replied in a strangled voice.

Rash patted Jem on the shoulder.

— You're not alone.

The Mute watched it all. That broken, tired family that still refused to let go.

They reached the end of the tunnel, a rusty grate leading to the sinister alleys of the Pit.

There, misery was everywhere.

Walls covered in peeling graffiti, trash piling up, rats running underfoot.

Rough voices, muffled screams, blows.

A little boy ran past them, chased by an angry man. The Mute made a sharp move, grabbed a rock and threw it hard. The man stopped, startled, and walked away cursing.

— Gotta be careful, said Lina. Patrols are around.

They moved along, hugging the walls, avoiding hostile groups.

The Mute felt his muscles tighten, ready to defend his family.

A group of starving kids huddled around a makeshift fire.

— Share, murmured Lina.

The Mute stepped forward, dropped the piece of stale bread he had managed to steal the day before.

A moment of fragile peace.

But night was coming.

They had to find shelter, a place to hide.

They slipped into an old abandoned shack, huddled close to fight the cold.

The Mute pulled out a piece of cloth, wiped the dust from his cheeks, then looked at his makeshift brothers and sisters.

He didn't say a word.

But in his eyes burned the promise of an endless fight.

Ready to do anything for this family...