CRACK!
A bolt of fire ripped across Murphy's back as he screamed.
The world around him slammed into existence – bright sun, the stink of sweat and blood, shouting in a language he didn't understand. He twisted, gasping, his body felt alien and heavy and wrong.
Another whip lashed the air, and this time it missed his skin by inches.
"Move, filth!"
The voice was guttural, rough, inhuman.
Murphy tried to stand but his knees buckled. His hands were chained. His legs too. Iron clinked with every twitch.
He wasn't in his room.
The ground beneath him was dry, cracked earth. Red cliffs towered overhead, casting long shadows that bled into a massive pit of blackness – no, not a pit. A cave. A tunnel. A doorway into something impossibly vast and dark.
Other slaves surrounded him – dozens of them. Humanoids, mostly. Some weren't even human. A thin, gray-skinned creature with too many fingers. A hunched man with eyes that glowed faintly. No one spoke. They just stood, trembling, breathing like prey waiting for the jaws to close.
Murphy's heartbeat roared in his ears.
"What the hell is this? What in the hell is this!?"
A horn blared. Deep, resonant. The crowd of guards knelt.
Then… it came.
The chains rattled first.
Then the heavy thump of monstrous limbs.
From the mouth of the cave, something massive emerged. A beast. No – a dragon. Its scales glistened like obsidian under the sun, black and sharp as razors. Its head alone was bigger than a carriage, eyes burning like molten amber.
It was chained at the snout, shoulders, tail. Two giant trolls dragged it forward on pulsing, groaning chains. It fought them with every step.
And then it roared.
Murphy thought his eardrums would burst. The air shook. The slaves dropped to their knees. Some collapsed entirely.
The dragon surged forward, and one of the slaves didn't move fast enough.
It bit down once. Gone.
Screams erupted. The guards barked orders, laughing.
Murphy couldn't breathe.
It was going down the line. One by one. Sniffing. Eating. Ignoring.
It was getting closer.
No. Please. No.
Then–
The dragon stopped.
Right in front of Murphy.
Its breath hit him like a furnace. It lowered its massive head, nostrils flaring, pulling in the scent of him. One glowing eye locked with his.
The world stopped.
Murphy didn't blink. Couldn't.
The dragon let out a low, rumbling growl. Not hostile. Not friendly.
Something... curious.
Murphy collapsed, shaking, drenched in sweat.
He was alive.
For now.
However, he couldn't stop shaking.
His whole body trembled like a leaf caught in a storm, knees drawn to his chest, arms hugging his sides. The ground was crusted with blood. The air still reeked of scorched metal and burnt flesh. His throat felt raw from screaming, but no sound came out now – only sharp, ragged breaths.
Tears welled up in his eyes, hot and uncontrollable.
"What is this... what the hell is this place...?"
He didn't expect an answer. Not from the dozen corpses strewn around him. Not from the heavens. And not from the two other survivors beside him.
An elf woman knelt silently, covered in bruises, silver hair matted with blood. Her eyes – sharp, alert, almost defiant – watched the dragon's retreating silhouette disappear back into the black of the cave.
The other was a boy. Maybe fifteen. Maybe less. Dirt-smudged face, milky white eyes. Blind. Yet somehow… calm. He whispered under his breath in a tongue Murphy didn't recognize.
Just the three of them.
Everyone else was gone.
A rough hand grabbed Murphy by the chain and yanked. He cried out, stumbling as the guards – scaled things with tusks and horned helmets – dragged them across the red sands toward a tent stitched from leather and bone.
They were thrown down inside without care. Murphy landed hard, cheek scraping stone.
The tent was dim, lit by smoky braziers and a row of skulls mounted on pikes. Sitting on a makeshift throne of bones and stone was a creature that looked almost human – almost. His eyes were too wide. His grin too long. Black ink curled across his face in spirals.
He leaned forward, examining them like toys he might break.
"Well, well..." the leader purred, his long tongue dragging across the lips. "The god has spoken."
The elf lifted her head slightly, defiance in her eyes was emanating. Murphy just whimpered.
"You three..." the man gestured lazily. "You have been chosen"
"You." He looked at the guard behind them. "Take them to the trail, if we're lucky one of them will live."
Murphy's head jerked up. "W-what? Wait, wait, what trial?!"
But they didn't answer. They didn't care.
He thrashed as hands dragged him again. "I don't – I'm not supposed to be here! I don't know what's happening! Please!"
His voice broke into sobs.
No one listened.