Elian's wrists throbbed painfully as the rough rope bit into his skin, cutting into the delicate flesh with every jolt and pull.
He stumbled forward, his feet dragging against the dirt road as the soldier on the horse jerked the rope again, forcing Elian to keep pace.
His body was already weak, his stomach growling with hunger, but there was no room for pity in this world.
The soldiers escorting him had made that clear from the moment they had dragged him from his cell.
"Move it, bastard!" the soldier on the horse snarled, giving another harsh tug. Elian's knees buckled, and he fell face-first into the dirt, his breath knocked from his lungs. Laughter erupted around him as the other soldiers jeered and taunted him.
"Look at him! Crawling around like the dog he is," one of them sneered.
"Deserves it, if you ask me," another chimed in. "A traitor's blood runs in his veins. Nothing good ever comes from filth like him."
Elian gritted his teeth, trying to muster the strength to push himself up from the ground. His body screamed in protest, but the sting of their words cut even deeper.
He had heard those insults from the original Elian memories and ever since he came into this world - bastard, filth, traitor.
They echoed in his mind, a constant reminder of the life he was now living, the life he had never asked for.
"Get up!" the soldier on the horse snapped, his voice filled with contempt. He kicked at Elian's side, forcing him to roll onto his back. The pain shot through his ribs, and Elian gasped, struggling to catch his breath.
"What's the matter? Too good to crawl now?" another soldier mocked, kicking dirt onto Elian's face. "You're not some noble anymore, boy. You're just a piece of trash, and that's all you'll ever be."
Elian's vision blurred as tears of frustration and anger welled in his eyes. He wanted to fight back, to scream at them, to tell them that they were wrong.
But what was the point? What good would it do? No one would listen to him, no one would care. He was alone in this devil approved world, and nothing he said or did would change that.
"Up with you!" the soldier growled again, and this time, Elian forced himself to his feet, his legs trembling beneath him. The soldier tugged on the rope once more, nearly yanking Elian off his feet as they continued down the road.
The journey was a blur of pain and exhaustion. Every step felt like a battle, every breath a struggle.
The soldiers continued to mock him, their words blending into a cruel symphony of taunts and insults that seemed to go on forever.
Elian's mind drifted, slipping in and out of consciousness as his body grew weaker with each passing moment.
He didn't know how long they had been walking when the landscape began to change.
The dirt road turned to cobblestones, and the air grew thick with the scent of incense and perfume.
Elian blinked, trying to clear the haze from his vision as he looked up at the towering structure before them.
The Velvet Moon Pavilion.
It was a sight to behold, grand and imposing, with intricately carved columns and lush, vibrant gardens that seemed to mock the despair he felt in his soul.
The Pavilion was a place of luxury, of decadence, where the wealthy and powerful came to indulge in their most hedonistic desires.
But to Elian, it was nothing more than his new prison, a gilded cage where he would be trained and molded into something he could barely comprehend.
Madame Lula, the mistress of the Pavilion, stood at the entrance, her eyes cold and calculating as she watched them approach. She was a tall woman, draped in fine silks that shimmered in the sunlight, her dark hair pulled back into an elegant twist.
Her lips curled into a smile that didn't reach her eyes as the soldiers dragged Elian before her.
"Madam Lula," the lead soldier greeted her with a bow, his tone suddenly respectful. "We've brought you a new acquisition. A bastard son of a traitor."
Lula's gaze swept over Elian, taking in the disheveled state of his clothes, the dirt and blood caked on his skin, the haunted look in his eyes. She tilted her head slightly, as if considering him for a moment before nodding.
"Leave him with me," she ordered, her voice smooth and commanding. "Your payment will be sent to you shortly."
The soldier nodded, handing the rope over to one of the Pavilion's servants before turning to leave with his men.
Elian watched them go, a hollow feeling settling in his chest.
They hadn't even bothered to look back at him, hadn't cared about what would happen to him now. To them, he was nothing more than a commodity, something to be sold and discarded as they saw fit.
"Welcome to the Velvet Moon Pavilion," Lula said, her voice dripping with a false warmth that made Elian's skin crawl. "I'm sure you've heard of this place, haven't you, boy?"
Elian swallowed, his throat dry and aching. He had heard of the Pavilion, of course from the memories of the original Elian.
Everyone in this empire had. It was a place where the rich and powerful came to indulge in their darkest fantasies, where courtesans were trained to cater to their every whim. It was a place of beauty and luxury, but also of darkness and corruption.
He had never imagined that he would end up in such a place, not even in his darkest nightmares.
"Answer me, boy," Lula snapped, her patience wearing thin. "Do you know where you are?"
"Y-yes," Elian stammered, his voice barely above a whisper.
"Good," she said, her smile returning.
"Then you understand what's expected of you. You belong to me now, and you will do as I say. You will learn to please our clients, to make them happy, and in return, you will be given a roof over your head, food in your belly, and the protection of this establishment."
Elian felt a wave of nausea wash over him. The thought of what was to come, of what he would be forced to do, made his stomach churn. He wanted to scream, to run, to fight against the fate that had been thrust upon him. But what could he do? He was powerless, just as he had always been. It doesn't matter which ever life it was.
"Take him to the training chambers," Lula ordered the servant holding the rope. "And make sure he's cleaned up. He'll begin his lessons tomorrow."
The servant nodded, tugging on the rope to lead Elian away. His legs felt like lead, every step an effort as he was dragged deeper into the Pavilion.
The luxurious surroundings blurred together, the rich drapes, the marble floors, the gilded mirrors, all of it a mockery of the life he had been thrust into.
They arrived at a small room, stark and cold, with nothing but a wooden bed and a basin of water. The servant untied the rope from Elian's wrists and pushed him inside, the door slamming shut behind him with a finality that echoed in his ears.
Elian stood there for a moment, staring at the door, his mind racing with thoughts of escape, of finding some way out of this nnightmare
But deep down, he knew there was no escape. He was trapped, just as he had always been, a pawn in a game that he didn't understand and couldn't win.
He sank down onto the bed, his body trembling with exhaustion and fear. His mind drifted to Buddy, the little dog who had been his only friend, his only source of comfort in his former world that had been as cruel as this new world.
He wondered if Buddy had suffered in the end, if he had felt the same fear and pain that Elian did now.
"Why can't I have a moment of peace?" Elian whispered, his voice trembling as tears welled in his eyes. "What god did I offend to deserve this?"
But there was no answer, only the oppressive silence of the room, the weight of his fate pressing down on him like a suffocating blanket. He was alone, just as he had always been, with nothing but the harsh reality of his new life to keep him company.
As he lay down on the hard bed, his body aching with exhaustion, Elian couldn't help but wonder how much more he could endure. How much longer could he keep fighting, keep surviving, when every step he took only seemed to lead him deeper into despair?