Caesar stood in that hidden corner, holding a mining lamp. The faint glow outlined the sharp lines of his face—cold and resolute. His gaze swept over the ten people before him, each wearing a different expression. Thomas stared at the ground as if accustomed to silent endurance; Gary fixed his eyes on Caesar, a wary and complicated look in them. Among the others, some bit their lips, others nervously wrung their hands. Silence filled the cramped space, broken only by faint breathing and the occasional sputter of the mining lamp.
Caesar spoke slowly, his voice low but carrying an undeniable authority. "I've called you here because I trust you, and because I need you. What I'm about to say concerns your lives—and everyone else's survival." He paused, his eyes scanning each face as if weighing their reactions. A few instinctively straightened their posture, sensing the gravity in his words.
"I know you've already guessed why we're digging. But let me make it clear—we're not just digging a hole. We're digging a tunnel. A way out." His words dropped like a stone into still water. Gary was the first to speak, his voice hushed but laced with doubt. "A way out? Caesar, are you sure we can dig through? What if—" His question was cut off by Caesar raising a hand. There was no anger in Caesar's gaze, only an icy finality. "There is no 'what if.' All you need to know is that this tunnel is our only hope. If you don't believe me, you can stop digging. But don't drag the others down with you."
Thomas spoke next, his voice low. "And if they find out? Those bastards won't let us off easy." Caesar let out a cold laugh, his tone hardening. "That's why I need you. This tunnel can't afford a single mistake. The timing, the manpower, the location—everything must go exactly as I say. You do the digging. I'll handle the rest."
A man in the back hesitated before speaking, his voice uncertain. "Caesar, this plan sounds like a chance, but—why should we believe we'll make it out alive? Even if we break through, we don't know what's waiting outside..." Caesar's eyes locked onto him instantly, sharp as a blade. His voice dropped to a chilling whisper that seemed to cut through the air. "If you don't dig, you'll stay here forever. If you dig, at least there's a chance. Does it matter what's outside, compared to what we're living through now?"
The room fell silent, save for the occasional drip of water from the walls. Caesar continued, his tone steady but unyielding. "This isn't just about us. Think about the children, the elders. How long do you think they can last? On this meager food? With bodies worn down to the bone every single day? If you do nothing, you're just waiting for them to die, one by one."
He raised the lamp, the light sweeping across their faces, capturing every flicker of emotion. Thomas clenched his fists tighter. Gary's brow furrowed even deeper. The others looked away or stared at the ground, but no one voiced further doubts. Satisfied, Caesar's voice dropped lower, his words sharp and cutting. "And one more thing. If anyone leaks this—intentionally or not—you'll never eat another bite of food, and you won't live to regret it."
His tone turned frigid, colder than the damp air around them. "This isn't a threat. It's a fact. Those overseers only care about squeezing every ounce of labor out of you. They don't care if you live or die. I'm the only one who can keep you fed, who can give you hope. If anyone thinks I'm lying, leave now. But if you leave, don't come back." He paused, his gaze piercing each of them like an eagle eyeing its prey. "Stay, or walk away. Your choice."
The air seemed to freeze, every breath held. At last, Gary nodded first, his voice heavy with resignation. "Fine. I'm in." Thomas followed, speaking slowly. "If it's this or waiting to die, I'll take my chances." The rest exchanged glances, then one by one, nodded in silence.
Caesar's eyes narrowed, a faint, cold satisfaction glinting in them. "Good. Starting tomorrow, you'll decide who digs. Two people each night. The rest keep watch. You'll rotate shifts, and digging won't exceed four hours. I'll arrange for the tunnel entrance to stay hidden. Tools and supplies? I'll handle those. Any questions—ask now. Otherwise, keep quiet and follow orders."
No one spoke. The faint light from the lamp cast deep shadows on their faces. Caesar nodded, extinguished the lamp, and plunged the space into darkness. His voice remained steady, cutting through the void with unshakable authority. "From now on, we're in this together. You want to live? Then do as I say."
Caesar stepped away from the wall, his boots scraping against the floor in deliberate, measured strides. He didn't bother softening his steps; the heavy rhythm sounded like a drumbeat in the tense silence, echoing in their minds. He stopped abruptly, sensing their nervous gazes still fixed on him. When he spoke again, his tone was quieter but carried a sharper edge. "Remember, tomorrow night we start. I'll tell you the time and the order. For now, act normal. Don't draw attention. Don't slip up."
He paused, his voice growing colder still. "And don't make this harder for me."
The oppressive air seemed to thicken. A few shuffled cautiously toward the exit, one of them brushing against the wall, causing a muffled thud. No one spoke, not even a whisper. Thomas lingered at the back, his hand gripping the edge of the mining lamp, his palms damp with sweat. The clammy sensation only added to his unease.
"Hey," Gary's voice suddenly broke the silence the voice was low, like it was squeezed out through gritted teeth. "What Caesar said... do you really think it'll work?" As the words fell, silence hung heavy in the air. Only the sound of footsteps echoed faintly in the dark. Thomas turned back to glance at the speaker, his expression unreadable. He didn't answer, just shook his head and quickened his pace, as if unwilling to linger on the question.
The others trudged on in silence. No one spoke, but anxiety etched itself onto every face. The oppressive darkness of the mine seemed to swallow all light, dimming even the fragile hope in their hearts. Yet, despite their doubts, no one stopped. Caesar's promise had become a tether, binding their wavering wills together.
In the dead of night, the first shift of diggers began their task. They carried simple tools, moving carefully through the maze of tunnels, their footsteps soft as a cat's. Every sound was measured, every movement deliberate. Thomas led the way, his shoulders tense as if bearing an invisible weight. He glanced back at the man behind him—a burly figure clutching a rusty pickaxe, his face a mixture of unease and hesitation.
"Hurry up," Thomas urged in a sharp whisper, impatience creeping into his tone. He knew every second counted; the longer they delayed, the greater the risk of being caught. The man nodded, quickening his pace, but couldn't help asking, "Do you really think Caesar's right? That we can dig our way out?"
Thomas stopped abruptly, turning to glare at him. His voice was low but edged with steel. "Does it matter? If we don't try, we're dead anyway. Your choice."
The man flinched under his gaze, lowering his head without another word. They continued forward until they reached a secluded corner, pulling aside a makeshift curtain to reveal the start of the tunnel. The ground here was unyielding, but no one complained. They set down their tools and began to dig with careful, practiced efficiency.
The dull thud of the pickaxe against rock echoed faintly in the darkness, a stark reminder of their precarious situation. Each swing sent vibrations through their aching arms, and sweat mixed with dust to sting their eyes. Thomas's breath came in ragged gasps, his muscles screaming in protest, but he refused to stop. He couldn't afford to. He didn't know if this tunnel would lead to freedom or a dead end, but the alternative—doing nothing—was a far worse fate.
Faint footsteps reached them from the distance—the sentries' signal. The warning was subtle, urgent. Thomas froze, motioning for his companion to hide. They pressed themselves into a shadowed corner, holding their breath as the sound grew louder, then faded away. Only when the silence returned did they cautiously resume their work. Fear and tension were constants now, woven into the fabric of their existence.
By the time dawn approached, they had covered the tunnel's entrance once more and retreated, careful to leave no trace. On the way back, Thomas's legs felt like lead, his exhaustion threatening to overwhelm him. Still, he kept moving.
---
Caesar stood motionless in the dark, his fingers brushing against the rough, damp surface of the rock wall. The chill of the stone seeped into his skin, grounding him in the present. He listened intently, the faint crunch of loose gravel beneath his boots and the distant murmurs of the diggers the only sounds in the oppressive stillness. He didn't move, his breathing steady, as if waiting for some unseen signal.
Footsteps approached, quick and light. A figure appeared, speaking in a hushed tone. "I checked everything. The sentries didn't notice anything unusual, and the entrance is completely sealed. Thomas and his team switched shifts; now it's Brooke and Daniel digging."
Caesar nodded slightly, his gaze still fixed ahead. "The time?" he asked, his voice calm but laced with authority.
The messenger hesitated, then quickly answered, "Nearly the fourth watch. Two hours until dawn."
Caesar gave a quiet hum of acknowledgment before turning to face him. His eyes, sharp and unyielding, bore into the man's. "Go back and keep watch. Make sure nothing goes wrong."
The man nodded hurriedly and disappeared back into the shadows. Caesar watched him go, then began walking down another tunnel, his steps measured and deliberate. His shoulders were slightly hunched, the only sign of the tension coiled within him.
As he turned a corner, the faint, rhythmic sound of pickaxes striking stone reached his ears. The labored breathing of the diggers mixed with the echoes, faint but steady. Caesar frowned slightly, calculating time and progress in his head. His muttered words, barely audible, carried a note of dissatisfaction: "Too slow."
He moved on, the air growing colder and heavier the deeper he went. Finally, he emerged into a slightly larger chamber where a group of children and elders huddled around a feeble flame. The flickering light cast their pale, weary faces in sharp relief. Caesar's gaze swept over them before settling on an older boy.
"Tomorrow, you and the others will move the rocks near the tunnel entrance. Stack them higher. Make it look natural," Caesar ordered, his tone leaving no room for argument.
The boy hesitated, then nodded, his voice timid as he ventured a question. "Can we... keep some of the rocks? Maybe trade them for—"
Caesar's sharp gaze silenced him before he could finish. The boy shrank under the weight of that look, his hands gripping the tattered cloth on his lap. Caesar's reply was as cold as the mine air. "If you're thinking about trade, first make sure you'll live long enough to need it."
The boy's face flushed with shame, his head bowing lower. Around him, the others exchanged uneasy glances, but no one dared to speak.
The fire crackled softly, its fragile light flickering against the stone walls. In the uneasy silence, an old man coughed weakly, as though trying to fill the void. His voice raspy with a weary smile, someone said, "Caesar, you've got to give them something to hold on to. Kids need hope to keep going." Caesar didn't respond, only casting a cold glance their way, a look that seemed to sneer, *Hope?* Without another word, he turned and walked away, leaving the old man shaking his head and muttering under his breath, "What a cold-hearted bastard."
At the end of the corridor, Caesar stopped in a hidden corner. From his waist, he pulled out a small cloth pouch. Undoing the knot, a few fragments of metal with a faint, metallic sheen tumbled into his palm. He stared at them for a moment, as if deep in thought, then raised his other hand. With a slight movement of his fingers, the fragments seemed to respond to an unseen force, gradually merging into a tiny sphere of liquid metal, flawless and pure. Caesar's gaze remained steady as he collected the substance, his mind calculating. *Still not enough. Far from it.*
He continued his work, refining the ore he had collected. Each movement was precise and efficient, the kind of methodical repetition born of long practice. Only when the last of the ore had been purified did he straighten, rolling his stiff shoulders. A faint patter of footsteps broke the silence, drawing his attention. He turned to see a child rushing toward him, out of breath, words spilling out between gasps: "Caesar, someone... someone's coming this way!"
Caesar's brow furrowed. He swiftly stashed his materials and asked coldly, "How many?" The child panted, struggling to answer, "Two… they look like overseers!" The chill in Caesar's eyes deepened. Without hesitation, he issued commands, his voice sharp and steady: "Notify everyone. Stop all work immediately. Seal the tunnel entrance. Everyone else, act normal." The child nodded and dashed off. Caesar's steps remained unhurried, his demeanor calm but charged with a tension that seemed to weigh down the very air around him.
In the depths of the tunnel, Thomas and the others were hurriedly concealing their tracks. Brooke, drenched in sweat, cursed under his breath, "Damn it, why now?" Thomas ignored him, glaring sharply and snapping, "Shut up and move faster!" Gritting his teeth, Brooke redoubled his efforts, his hands working furiously until the last stone was set in place. Only then did they retreat in haste.
From a distance, Caesar watched as the group slipped away through a hidden passage. Only when he was certain everyone was safe did he allow himself to relax, the faintest sigh escaping his lips. He turned and began walking toward where the overseers might appear, his footsteps echoing with a deliberate rhythm that carried both resolve and an undercurrent of menace.
At the corridor's entrance, Caesar stood still, his figure half-shrouded in dim light. His shadow stretched long across the floor. He moved silently, his breath so quiet it seemed nonexistent. Only the faint scrape of his fingers brushing the rough walls betrayed his presence. He didn't confront them directly but melted into the shadows, retreating step by step until he was completely concealed. He could hear the overseers' approaching footsteps—heavy and dragging, boots scuffing against loose gravel with an air of laziness and indifference, as though their patrol was merely a formality.
"Hey, where's that place you were talking about?" one gruff voice asked, tinged with suspicion. Another voice, slower and more casual, replied, "Just up ahead. Let's take another look. This place isn't that big; it can't hide much." The footsteps drew closer. Caesar's fingers brushed the wall again, the cold, gritty texture grounding his thoughts.
Without hesitation, he reached for a small rock near his feet. He gripped it tightly, feeling its weight and edges press into his skin. With a sharp motion, he hurled it in the opposite direction. The rock struck the wall with a sharp *crack,* the sound reverberating down the narrow tunnel.
"What was that?" the gruff voice snapped, immediately alert. The footsteps halted. Caesar could hear one of them inhale deeply, as though trying to sniff out some unseen disturbance. A faint smirk flickered across his face, gone as quickly as it appeared. He stayed perfectly still, waiting. As expected, the overseers began moving toward the noise, their steps quicker now, their suspicion mounting. Caesar knew they wouldn't search for long; their routine rarely deviated, and their interest would wane once the anomaly seemed trivial.
As the footsteps faded, Caesar finally straightened, brushing the dust from his clothes. He checked the pouch at his waist to ensure it was still secure. Inside, the stolen gold was hidden away—every ounce of it vital. He couldn't afford to lose any of it. He turned and walked deeper into the labyrinthine tunnels, his strides measured, each step heavy with purpose.
When he reached the secret excavation site, he found Brooke and Daniel slumped against the wall, sweat still glistening on their brows. Their faces were pale with lingering tension. Brooke rose quickly when Caesar entered, casting him a wary glance before asking in a low voice, "Did you take care of it?" Caesar gave a curt nod, his tone cold and clipped: "The patrol's gone, but they could come back. Starting tomorrow, rotate the lookout kids. Don't let anyone's face become too familiar."
Brooke clenched his jaw and nodded, muttering under his breath, "What a damn hassle." Caesar heard it clearly but said nothing, his icy gaze flicking to Thomas. "What's the progress today?"
Thomas lifted his head, exhaustion etched into his features. Still, he managed a faint, weary smile. "About three meters. If we keep this pace, we should reach the marked point of the underground passage in two days." Caesar nodded, pulling a small piece of dry bread from his pouch and tossing it to Thomas. "Eat, then keep working. Half an hour more tonight."
"Tomorrow night will be safer."
Thomas took the dry ration without another word, biting into it with a determination that echoed in the stillness of the cave. Caesar stood nearby, his gaze sweeping over the others. Seeing their silence, he spoke in a low voice, his words carrying an unyielding authority: "Remember, our goal isn't today or tomorrow—it's to get out. If anyone wants to live, they'll keep their mouths shut and do what they're told. If I find anyone leaking even the slightest hint, I don't care who they are—they won't live to see the next day."
His voice wasn't loud, but it struck like a hammer against their hearts, suffused with a chilling intensity.
Brook lowered his head, teeth clenched but silent. Thomas nodded, his expression turning graver. Caesar studied their reactions, fully aware they were all nearing their breaking points. But he also knew that in this state of desperation, unity would be their strongest shield.
He turned and left, his steps quickening as if trying to escape some invisible burden. Behind him, faint sounds of chewing and hushed whispers lingered.
At the far end of the passage, Caesar pulled out another piece of ore, its cold surface leeching warmth from his palm. With a slight movement of his fingers, the ore began to disintegrate, impurities falling away to leave a molten drop of pure metal, which he quickly secured in the pouch at his waist.
Time passed in a silent rhythm, each day blending seamlessly into the next. Caesar stood just outside the excavation site, a faint light glowing from his palm, casting blurred shadows onto the dirt-streaked walls. Leaning against the damp surface, he closed his eyes, pressing his ear to the stone to feel the vibrations—the muted clash of shovels meeting soil from deep within the tunnel.
Nearby, Thomas approached, his heavy footsteps slapping against the damp ground, a testament to his weariness. "A few more days, and we should break through to the cavity outside," he said, breathing heavily. "I can already feel the air changing."
Caesar nodded without opening his eyes, his fingers idly scraping against the rough wall, drawing faint lines in the grime. His voice was calm and measured: "Tighten the rotations for the lookouts. Especially around the overseers. They can't notice a thing."
Thomas muttered his agreement but hesitated, pausing as though struggling to find the words. "Caesar... you..." His tone was uncertain, laced with unspoken questions.
Caesar's eyes opened, cold and sharp, pinning Thomas in place. That glacial stare, devoid of emotion, silenced any further probing. Caesar understood what he was about to ask but chose not to acknowledge it. Instead, he pointed toward the two workers still digging in the distance.
"Do you see them? Do you know why they're clawing at the earth with every ounce of strength they have? It's not for me. It's not for you. It's so we can all survive. If you can't stomach that, you're free to leave."
His tone was even, devoid of malice, but the weight of his words was undeniable.
Thomas lowered his gaze, his fists clenching at his sides. After a moment of silence, he nodded and left quickly.
Inside the excavation site, the workers rotated in strict intervals, no shift lasting longer than an hour. Each man who emerged was drenched in sweat, their faces caked with mud, breathing like they'd clawed their way out of the underworld.
The children stationed as lookouts crouched silently nearby, their ears sharp and alert. Occasionally, they exchanged subtle glances, their eyes darting at the faintest noise. Emma and Lowell sat near the entrance, nibbling on the rations Caesar had distributed, their movements slow and deliberate as if conserving every morsel of energy.
"Emma," Lowell whispered, his tone hesitant. "Do you really think Caesar can get us out of here?"
Emma lifted her gaze, her expression complex as she studied him. Instead of answering, she reached into her pocket and pulled out a small, smooth stone, running her fingers over its surface. "The fact you're asking that question," she murmured, her voice steady, "means you're already starting to believe."
Lowell froze, her words catching him off guard. A faint, bitter smile crossed his lips. "Maybe. Not like we have much of a choice."
Not far away, Caesar caught the tail end of their exchange but didn't react. Straightening, he walked toward the excavation site's exit. His steps were firm, deliberate, exuding an unspoken resolve.
As he passed Emma and Lowell, he stopped briefly, his gaze dropping to the food in their hands. His voice, low and commanding, broke the silence: "Finish eating and rotate out. Don't keep anyone waiting."
Emma nodded, shoving the rest of her food into her mouth hurriedly. Lowell stood, brushing dust from his clothes. "We know what to do," he muttered under his breath.
Deeper in the tunnel, the air was heavy with dust, every breath dragging fine particles into the lungs. The workers moved with a sluggish determination, their clothes soaked through, mud clinging to their skin like a second layer. Though slow, their shovels never stopped, each load of dirt carefully carried away, leaving no trace of their progress.
Caesar stood at the entrance, his gaze sweeping over the growing mound of soil. His brow furrowed. "By tomorrow night, clear all of this out. Not a single trace left behind."
The older worker beside him, his face etched with wrinkles and weariness, gave a slight nod, his expression unreadable.
The mine at night was a place of oppressive stillness, like a city of the dead. Only the occasional scrape of tools or a muffled whisper broke the silence.
At the far end of the passage, Caesar stood with his hands clasped behind his back, staring into the darkness. In his mind, the plan unfolded with precision, every step meticulously calculated. There was no room for error. Time was running out, and every second mattered.
Footsteps approached softly—it was Thomas again. He stopped beside Caesar, speaking in a hushed tone. "The day's progress went well. We should reach the target by tomorrow."
Caesar nodded, his gaze unwavering from the shadows ahead. His voice, steady and unrelenting, carried the weight of finality: "Tell everyone—no mistakes in these final days. There's no turning back now." Thomas hesitated for a moment before nodding and turning away. Caesar remained where he was, his fingers lightly tapping against the cold, rough wall, his gaze deep and unyielding.
days passed, and the atmosphere in the mine began to shift imperceptibly. Caesar's arrangements and secret plans took root in the shadows, yet the slave masters started sensing something amiss. For months, the miners had behaved unusually—eerily compliant, unnaturally efficient, and disturbingly quiet. In the past, even the most disciplined miners wore the weariness and bitterness of their plight on their faces, their eyes betraying a smoldering defiance. But in recent months, that defiance had vanished, replaced by a mechanical diligence devoid of emotion. They worked as though guided by some unseen force, their movements in perfect harmony.
"what's wrong with them?" the slave master muttered to himself, his eyes narrowing as he observed the laborers from a raised platform.
it was too conspicuous to be coincidence. He was certain something had changed among the workers. Determined to uncover the truth, he fixed his gaze on one of them—Lucius, a younger miner known for his past insubordination.
"You, come with me," the slave master's cold voice cut through the air behind him.
lucius froze for a moment, a chill running down his spine. He turned, quickly masking his unease with a strained smile. "What can I do for you, sir?"
"just follow me," the slave master commanded, gesturing for him to keep up. Lucius obeyed in silence, his mind racing as dread coiled in his chest.
they entered a dimly lit chamber, its walls damp and the air thick with the stench of mildew. The slave master closed the door, turning to face Lucius with an unsettling intensity. "I know something's going on," he said, his voice low but sharp. "The lot of you have been far too compliant lately—too quiet. What's happening?"
lucius's heart pounded in his chest, the tension constricting his throat. He'd anticipated this moment, yet his resolve faltered under the man's penetrating stare. Swallowing hard, he forced himself to respond. "Sir, I don't understand what you mean."
the slave master leaned in, his voice a venomous whisper. "Don't play dumb with me. If you tell me what I want to know, I'll see to it that your life improves. Food, comfort—maybe even your freedom. But if you lie…" His words trailed off, the threat in his tone more chilling than any explicit promise of punishment.
lucius felt the weight of the moment pressing down on him, suffocating him. His thoughts churned—should he speak? To betray Caesar was to destroy the only glimmer of hope they had. Yet if he remained silent, the consequences could be just as dire.
he closed his eyes briefly, taking a shaky breath before meeting the slave master's gaze. "It's Caesar," he said at last, his voice trembling. "He's the one helping us. He gives us food, makes sure the work isn't as unbearable. He promised that if we do what he asks, we'll be rewarded. Everyone believes him…"
the slave master's eyes widened, a flicker of surprise crossing his face. He hadn't expected to hear that name. Caesar—this enigmatic figure—was the orchestrator behind it all. Suppressing the fury rising within him, the slave master fixed his glare on Lucius. "You're sure it's him? What exactly has he done?"
lucius hesitated, his fingers curling into fists. "He's given us a chance to survive," he murmured. "We've been digging tunnels, holding on to the hope he's given us. It's not much, but it's something to believe in."
the slave master stood still, his anger and unease mingling into a volatile brew. He forced himself to maintain composure, though his voice was clipped when he spoke again. "Do you have any proof of this?"
lucius lowered his head, the silence stretching between them before he finally replied, "He wouldn't betray us. He told us that if we trusted him, we'd find freedom. He… he said if we kept going, there'd be a way out."
the words spilled out hesitantly, each one laced with uncertainty and fear. Lucius wasn't sure if he was buying time or sealing their doom. His own hope and despair wrestled for dominance as he awaited the slave master's reaction.
after a long pause, the man stepped back, his expression unreadable. "Go back to work," he said coldly. "And don't breathe a word of this to anyone."
lucius nodded, his heart hammering in his chest as he turned to leave. The dim corridor swallowed him, the faint sound of his footsteps muffled by the oppressive silence.
back in the mines, the air was heavy with dust and despair. Lucius moved sluggishly, his mind still clouded by the encounter. He rejoined the workers, blending into the crowd with practiced ease, though his trembling hands betrayed his inner turmoil. Sweat mixed with dirt clung to his palms, an uncomfortable reminder of the weight he now carried.
from across the cavern, Caesar observed the scene, his keen eyes missing nothing. He stood in quiet conversation with another miner, but his gaze frequently darted toward Lucius, as if sensing the storm brewing within him. Their eyes met briefly, and in that fleeting moment, Lucius felt as though his heart had been seized. He quickly looked away, unable to face the unspoken question in Caesar's gaze.
caesar's attention lingered on Lucius for a heartbeat longer before shifting back to the task at hand. The faint tension in his posture betrayed his growing awareness of the dangers closing in. He knew the stakes had never been higher, there was an unmistakable weight to his presence.
"lucius." caesar's voice came from behind, low and calm, devoid of any discernible emotion. lucius froze momentarily before turning around slowly, forcing his expression to remain neutral. "what is it, caesar?" his voice was dry, his throat feeling as though it were clogged.
caesar didn't answer immediately. instead, he stepped closer, his penetrating gaze fixed on lucius's face. his eyes were deep, almost as if he were trying to see through him entirely. "you've been acting strangely these past few days. what happened?" his tone was steady, but there was an undeniable authority in it, one that made it impossible to brush off.
lucius's breathing quickened slightly, and his eyes darted away, unable to meet caesar's gaze. "nothing," he replied, his voice barely above a whisper. "i'm just… tired."
caesar narrowed his eyes slightly, as though weighing the truth of the words. his fingers tapped lightly against the shovel he held, the faint metallic sound echoing softly in the silence. "if you're tired, then rest." with that, he turned and walked away toward the others, seemingly uninterested in pressing further. but lucius knew better. it wasn't over. he could feel the cold sweat soaking through his shirt, each movement heavy and deliberate.
when the day's work finally ended, the miners retreated to their respective corners to rest. the mine was eerily quiet at night, the only sound the occasional drip of water hitting stone, echoing through the cavernous space. lucius sat curled in a corner, his body hunched and his gaze fixed vacantly on the ground. his mind was a storm, the slave master's threats and caesar's probing gaze replaying over and over, two opposing forces twisting together in his chest until he could barely breathe.
not far away, caesar stood with a small group of core members, speaking in low, measured tones. his voice was calm as ever, but it carried an unyielding resolve. "we're at the critical stage of the plan now. a single mistake could cost everyone everything." his eyes moved across the group, lingering briefly on each face before settling on lor, who stood at the edge of the circle. "you're in charge of keeping an eye on everyone. any irregularities—no matter how small—must be reported to me immediately."
lor nodded solemnly, his expression serious. "understood." with that, he turned and walked away to distribute food to the others. caesar watched him go before retreating to his own corner, where he sat down and closed his eyes, lost in thought. from across the cavern, lucius observed the scene, his heart heavy with fear and guilt, the two emotions coiling together like a noose tightening around his neck.
as the night deepened, the temperature in the mine plummeted, the chill creeping into every corner and biting into every body. lucius curled into himself, trying to find some semblance of calm, but his mind was a battlefield. the slave master's cold, calculating stare haunted him, and caesar's pointed words rang in his ears.
What have I done? he whispered