EPISODE 6 — CAGE AND CHAINS

EPISODE 6 – CAGE AND CHAINS

I don’t cry often.

Somewhere along the way, I grew numb, so used to my daily routines, the punishments, rules, the silence. Those feelings became a distant memory. Pain became a constant companion, so familiar that it no longer moved me to tears.

The last time I remember crying… it was when the guard whipped me, a few months ago.

Even then, my face showed nothing. No fear, anger, or sorrow. Just blankness. But the tears still came. Slowly, they slipped down my cheeks, gathering at the tip of my chin before falling, onto the steel floor of the cage they locked me in. Each drop echoed faintly as it hit the metal, like tiny reminders of the weight I carried inside.

My chest ached, not from the physical torment but from something deeper.

I left my dog behind.

And I couldn’t do anything about it. No matter how much I wanted to, no matter how hard I tried to think of a way out… I couldn’t. Escape was impossible. And even if I did escape, where would I go? I'm going to die.

I’ve already accepted it. My fate is sealed, and there’s no changing it now.

Still, here’s one regret, one thing I wish I could undo, leaving Wolfie.

That moment earlier… I didn’t know it would be our last. If I had known, I would have hugged him. I would have held him tightly while he was still asleep, memorized the warmth of his fur, the way he smelled. But I didn’t. And now, it’s too late.

As the carriage rumbled along, I finally gave in to exhaustion. My body slumped against the cold, hard bars of the cage. The wheels kept turning, endlessly rolling forward, while the horses’ hooves clattered over the rocky ground. It was loud, repetitive, and maddening. The entire ride swayed with a sickening rhythm, each jolt making me dizzier.

The sun climbed higher in the sky, and with it came the heat. It crept in slowly, suffocating and dry. Sweat clung to my skin. My throat itched with thirst. I could barely swallow. My lips cracked.

All we passed were forests and wide open fields, endless green and gold under the sun. No towns and people. Just the lonely path ahead and the thick silence that came with it.

I shut my eyes, not because I was tired, but I didn’t want to see anymore. I wasn’t in the right state to sleep, but I just wanted to disappear.

This journey felt like it would never end.

But then… a sudden jolt broke the rhythm.

The carriage came to a halt.

My eyes fluttered open, sluggish and heavy. That’s when I realized, the sky had changed. The day was ending. The sun was sinking behind the trees. No wonder I had started hearing the crows earlier. Their cries had warned me of the coming dusk.

We had stopped in the middle of a forest.

The air buzzed with the sound of insects, loud and constant, filling every corner of the space around us. And then, out of the corner of my eye, something caught my attention.

A house.

It was hidden slightly among the trees, just visible enough to stir something uncertain in me.

From inside the cage, I caught a glimpse of a structure in the distance, some kind of liquor house. Its wide wooden doors were left open, allowing the flickering light from inside to spill out into the clearing. Through that opening, I could see several men gathered around low tables, their voices loud and unrestrained as they laughed and shouted over each other. Large mugs clinked in their hands, filled with some kind of foaming drink they kept pouring and drinking without pause.

Even from where I sat, far from the building itself, I could smell the sharp sting of the liquor they were drinking. It was heavy in the air. A thick, pungent, and bitter smell, like something that could burn your throat just from the scent alone.

As I stared quietly in that direction, I noticed the immortal man dismount from his horse. I watched him walk toward the house. When he stepped inside, one of the servers greeted him with familiarity. It seemed he was known there.

I quickly turned my gaze away and swallowed hard. My throat was so dry it felt like I was trying to gulp down sand. Every part of it felt parched, cracked.

Time passed slowly. The sky had begun to shift into a deep, burnt orange, the sun dipping below the canopy of thick forest trees surrounding us. Dusk was settling in.

With the hunger in my stomach twisting and the thirst gnawing at my throat, I figured I might as well try to sleep, maybe unconsciousness would dull the aching in my body.

“Wake up, slave. I already unlocked the handcuffs earlier."

But just as I was about to close my eyes, A low, gravelly voice broke through the quiet, pulling me back to full awareness.

I turned my head slowly. It was the immortal man. He was standing just outside the cage now, and in his gloved hands, he held food that looked like a rough chunk of bread stuffed with slices of meat and something pickled. The smell hit me immediately.

Without saying much else, he reached through the metal bars and placed the food on the floor with a heavy thud.

“Eat that,” he said in a firm, emotionless tone.

“I... I’m thirsty...” I said hoarsely.

“There’s no water here,” he replied plainly. “But you can drink from the nearby stream. I’ll chain you first, just in case. It’ll only be for a few minutes.”

He walked over to his horses and retrieved something from a leather bag slung over the side. The faint clinking of metal echoed as he pulled out a chain. Not too thick, but long enough.