Eray woke up to a hard kick slammed into his kidneys.
"Get up, you lazy animal!"
When he opened his eyes, he saw a satyr standing in front of him, one of the Princess's personal servants. His face was covered in freckles, and he stamped his goat-like hooves impatiently on the floor.
As Eray pushed himself up from the hard ground, the Soul Binder collar around his neck pulled downward like a heavy shackle. He tried to reach for the shadow energy inside him, but it was useless. It was as if that part of his mind had been sealed with concrete. He could only feel the emptiness. The absence.
"Princess Velira is not awake yet," the satyr said, throwing a broom at Eray."Until she wakes up, you'll clean downstairs with the Carrion Eaters. Her Highness does not want the smell of filthy humans in her chambers."
Eray caught the broom midair.
A Captain.The grandson of a ruler.
Now reduced to a spoiled princess's door ornament.
Clenching his teeth, he followed the satyr.
As they walked through the corridors, the palace's splendor became even more obvious. This place did not smell of rust and oil like the Raiders base. It smelled of jasmine, incense, and old parchment. Through the windows, Eray could see the true shape of the city.
The capital of the Avalon Empire: Lunaris.
The city was built inside a massive crescent-shaped crater. Buildings of white and silver stone were connected by bridges floating in the air, held up by magic. What the Raiders called "Umbra" was known to its natives as the Silver Heaven.
But Eray knew that beneath every heaven, there was a sewer.
The satyr led him down to the lower levels of the palace, where the kitchens and servant quarters were located. Unlike the upper floors, this place was hot, steamy, and chaotic.
"Hey, Tarik!" the satyr shouted.
An old, hunched man who was washing dishes larger than himself turned around in shock. He was human.
"Yes, sir?" the man said without lifting his head. His voice trembled.
"This is the new 'pet,'" the satyr said, pointing at Eray."The Princess's personal property. Teach him the rules. If he messes up, I'll skin you alive. Understand?"
The satyr left, his hooves clicking as he walked away.
The old man, Tarik, wiped his hands on a rag and stepped closer to Eray. His eyes moved from Eray's face to the red-rune collar around his neck. When he saw it, his color drained.
"A Red Seal…" Tarik whispered in horror."What did you do, son? Humans usually get gray collars. Red ones… Red is only for dangerous mages."
Eray glanced around and gave a vague answer.
"Let's say the Princess didn't like one of my talents."
Then he quickly slipped into his role. He lowered his shoulders and softened his voice.
"I was only looking for my sister, uncle. One moment I was searching, the next I was in that arena. You… how long have you been here?"
Tarik sighed deeply, handed Eray a brush, and crouched down.
"Since I was born, son. This is where people like us belong. In Avalon, being human is no different from being a cockroach."
Eray crouched beside him and began scrubbing the silver tiles. But his mind moved much faster than the brush.
"This city… Lunaris," Eray said carefully."Has anyone ever escaped from here?"
Tarik let out a bitter laugh.
"Escape? Where to? The city is surrounded by Crystal Wardens. Even if you get past them, the creatures in the forest will catch your scent. And even if you survive that…"
He pointed at Eray's collar.
"If you leave the palace grounds without permission, that thing will separate your head from your body. Not with magic. It will explode."
Eray's hand moved to his neck without thinking. Raiders technology had explosive collars, but those worked with electronic signals.
This one worked with magic.
Every system has a weakness, Eray thought.Magic or technology, it all follows logic.
"And the Queen?" Eray asked, deliberately using the wrong title."I mean, the Princess. She keeps my things. My iron sticks."
Tarik looked around and lowered his voice.
"Princess Velira… She is Emperor Kaelthas's greatest pride and his greatest fear. She is cruel. She collects things. She keeps your iron as 'primitive art' and melts it down into jewelry when she grows bored."
Tarik leaned closer and whispered.
"Take my advice, son. You say you're looking for your sister. Forget her. If she is here, pray she is dead. Living in this palace is harder than dying. Keep your eyes down, do your work, and never—never—look them in the eyes."
Just then, the kitchen doors slammed open. Two armored Elf guards entered, carrying silver trays piled with leftovers from the upper floors.
"The dogs' food is here!" one of them shouted, dumping the trays onto the floor.
The other slaves—gnomes, humans, goblins—pounced on the scraps like starving animals.
Eray did not move.
His stomach growled. After yesterday's fight and the healing spell, he needed energy. But a Raiders officer, the grandson of a ruler, would not eat scraps from the floor.
Tarik nudged his arm.
"Go. Grab something. You won't last until tomorrow otherwise."
"I'm not hungry," Eray said coldly.
One of the guards noticed that Eray had not moved.
"Look at this one," the guard said, stepping closer."The new toy seems proud."
He kicked a greasy piece of meat toward Eray.
"Eat," he ordered."The Princess's dog shouldn't starve."
Eray looked up at the guard. His hand moved toward his belt out of reflex, but there was no knife there. The collar around his neck began to warm.
Disobedience returned as physical pain.
Endure, he told himself. Not now.
Whenever anger rose inside him, Eray imagined this dimension burning. The city collapsing. Tanks, dimensional ships, soldiers crushing everything in their path. He forced himself to calm down.
Slowly, Eray bent down and picked up the piece of meat.
He did not bring it to his mouth.
He slipped it into his pocket.
"I'll eat it later," he said, lowering his head."To save it."
The guard grinned in satisfaction and lightly struck Eray's head.
"Good. You're learning your place quickly."
When the guards left laughing, Eray clenched the greasy meat in his pocket so hard that his nails cut into his palm.
I won't forget this humiliation, he swore silently.Every kick, every insult… I will repay them all when I bring that Silver City down on your heads.
In the afternoon, a bell rang from above, from the Princess's chambers. A magical chime echoed directly inside Eray's collar.
Chiiing…
Tarik looked at Eray in fear.
"She's calling," he said."The Princess is calling you. Don't be late. And whatever you do… don't answer back."
Eray put the brush down and straightened his clothes. He placed the mask of a "helpless, frightened human" back onto his face.
But deep inside his coal-black eyes, the cold, vengeful fire of the Raiders burned.
As he walked upstairs, he imagined the rifle hanging on the wall.
He imagined the feel of the trigger…