I normally didn't dream—at least, not that I ever remembered. My nights were always a void, an endless black that carried me from exhaustion to waking. But this time was different.
I dreamed of a bird, or something like it. Its wings were immense, golden-bronze feathers stretching wide enough to shadow the land below as it soared effortlessly through the sky. It was beautiful, powerful, unbound by anything as it rode the wind.
I watched it, mesmerized, and for the first time, I felt a yearning deep in my chest—a desperate desire to fly. To feel that freedom. To rise above everything that weighed me down, to be unburdened by chains, by pain, by the cruelty of this world.
As I watched, I felt myself begin to lift, the ground slipping away as though the bird's power was pulling me upward, inviting me to share in its endless sky. The wind whispered past my skin, and for a moment, I truly believed I was rising—free at last.
And then I woke up.
The cold press of wood beneath me was the first thing I noticed, its rough surface biting into my skin. Every muscle in my body ached with a stiffness that made even the smallest movement feel monumental. My shoulder throbbed relentlessly, the wound a dull, pulsing ache.
But there was something else. Something new.
It wasn't pain, nor was it comfort—just… a presence. Near my heart, deep within, I felt it: a subtle weight, like a second heartbeat. It pulsed faintly, a rhythm that seemed to hum in harmony with my own. It wasn't constricting or oppressive. If anything, it felt alive—powerful. Like it belonged there now, as much a part of me as my flesh and bone.
"I see you're awake now. How do you feel, Edric?"
Lord Thorne's voice pulled me from my thoughts. I turned my head to look at him, wondering for a fleeting moment what he truly thought of me. It seemed as though he read the question in my eyes, because he answered before I could speak.
"Edric," he began, his tone carrying that familiar mix of amusement and cold calculation, "over the few days we've known each other, I've come to realize I wasn't entirely wrong about you. Your mind… it seems sharper than others your age. I don't know why, but I have a strong feeling it wasn't always that way."
He paused, studying me closely, as though I were a riddle only he could solve.
"The way you fought was also unnatural," he continued, his voice dipping lower, as if sharing a private truth. "It was raw, instinctive—like a beast and man mixed. Those two things have solidified my thoughts about you."
Lord Thorne leaned back slightly, the faintest curl of a smile tugging at his lips—one that felt both calculated and hungry.
"I've decided to invest in you. I see potential here—more than His Majesty or Dutchmund could ever grasp. They would wait until you're older, but by then, your true potential would be wasted. You could make me richer, Edric. More powerful. I'm betting on you to be my golden duck, the one that lays the eggs I need. After all, I want more than to simply manage the slave pits."
The weight of his words settled over me, heavy and suffocating. I wasn't sure if his promise was a blessing or a curse or something in between.
"I will tell you what I know of what they did to you," Lord Thorne continued, his voice quieter now but no less firm. "I will give you the best possible chance at freedom. I will ensure you do not want for anything. All I ask is for you to give me your everything."
He looked at me expectantly, waiting for my response. His gaze, sharp and unwavering, left no room for hesitation.
I swallowed, feeling that faint pulse near my heart again—the hum of something powerful and unfamiliar.
"You have it, My lord" I said quietly.
It wasn't truly a choice. Not really. But it was a path—one that led to answers and, maybe, freedom. I needed to know what had been done to me. Because whatever it was… it felt like it was only beginning.