Seraphina's sleep was anything but restful.
The moment she closed her eyes, the faces of the merchants haunted her dreams. The pleading voice of the mother, the terrified cries of the child, and the blood that stained her hands replayed in her mind with a clarity she wished she didn't have.
She remembered every moment of what she had done, it was like her mind refused to forget it no matter how much she tried— every little action she took.
She twisted and turned on the cold, hard floor of the cell, her breathing uneven and her heart pounding. When the nightmares became unbearable, she would jolt awake, her fingers digging into her own arm until the sharp pain brought her back to reality.
The screams lingered even while she was awake, her tired mind playing tricks on her, yet even knowing this did not help ease her pain.
Her thoughts offered no solace, only a cruel reminder of what she had done.
"It's for survival."
The rationalization rang hollow in her ears now, a weak excuse she desperately clung to but no longer believed. The blood on her hands was too vivid, too real— she could almost feel its warmth even as she sat in the darkness, her chest heaving.
When dawn broke, Seraphina rose slowly, her body heavy with fatigue and lack of rest. Her violet eyes, once sharp and piercing, were now rimmed with red from sleepless nights and her movements reflected this.
She was slightly sluggish as she readied herself for the day, her usual sharpness dulled compared to before, her mind wandering more often than she would have hoped.
Edwin and Samuel noticed immediately.
"You look like hell."
Samuel said bluntly, though his tone was laced with concern rather than mockery.
Seraphina didn't meet his gaze, her voice flat as she replied.
"I'm fine."
Edwin frowned, his silver eyes narrowing as he studied her.
"You haven't been sleeping."
"I said I'm fine."
Her words were sharper this time, the finality in her tone discouraging further questions— her lack of sleep mixed with the dreams made her more ansty than she meant to be.
Even knowing she didn't mean to be so, rude, she couldn't find it in herself to apologize to the man.
The two men exchanged worried glances but chose not to press her. They could see her retreating further into herself, and neither knew how to bridge the growing distance— they could tell something had happened, but they didn't know what.
Later that day, Seraphina was back to her assigned task of organizing the camp's supplies. Her movements were mechanical, her mind wandering to dark places even as her hands worked.
The laughter of the bandits around her grated on her nerves much more than she usually paid mind to— their carefree attitudes were a stark contrast to the suffering caused by them.
"Still standing, I see."
The cold voice snapped her out of her thoughts.
She turned to see Rowlin approaching, his expression as unreadable as ever. The sight of him brought back memories of the raid— of his bloodied blade and his emotionless orders.
"Karel is satisfied with your actions."
He said without preamble, his tone devoid of praise or mockery.
"He didn't expect you to follow through so thoroughly. You've proven useful."
Seraphina's hands clenched into fists at her sides, but she forced herself to keep her expression neutral.
"What do you want?"
She asked, her voice cold and flat.
Rowlin tilted his head slightly but paid no heed to the tone she used, instead, he carried on his conversation.
"Nothing for now. But Karel will have more tasks for you soon. Consider this a warning to be ready."
She didn't reply, her gaze locking with his for a brief moment before she turned back to her work. Rowlin lingered for a few seconds longer before walking away, leaving her alone with her thoughts.
As she resumed sorting supplies, her mind churned.
Every task Karel gave her chipped away at her humanity, turning her into something she didn't recognize— it was clear the man was doing this on purpose.
She couldn't tell if he was trying to break her or train her, but either option wasn't something she could accept. She had no intention of becoming like him or losing herself.
If she didn't find a way out soon, there would be nothing left of the person she once was.
Her gaze flicked toward the bandits around her, the ones laughing and joking as if nothing was wrong. They were pawns in Karel's game, just as she was.
But unlike them, she had no intention of staying a pawn forever.
"I need a plan."
The thought settled heavily in her mind, but forming a plan and executing it were two entirely different challenges. Every move she made would be under scrutiny, and every mistake would be punished.
Seraphina's hand trembled as she picked up another crate, her eyes shifted down to it for a moment before thinking.
'Supplies? Where do they get all the supplies needed to fund such a large group, just raiding merchants would be enough to feed hundreds of people.'
From what she had seen, the bandits had close to, if not more, than a hundred people. Most of these people were rowdy and caused trouble, but they trained and fought very often— they would require a lot of food.
Yet whenever they raided merchants, it wasn't food they stole but jewelry and gold— not to mention hunting, such a thing couldn't possibly supply the entire camp.
That meant they had a way to trade the things they stole, for supplies needed to run the camp, if she could find out that connection, then she could possibly find a way out from this place.
'But Karel wouldn't let that information slip easily.'
It was clear that Karel wasn't any simple man, he was someone with a story, and by no means was he a fool. If she wanted to learn information so precious, she would need to earn his trust more— or sneak around him.