Beyond the bustling edges of the sprawling city stretched an uncharted jungle, a dark and untamed wilderness. Towering trees, their gnarled trunks as ancient as time itself, loomed like silent sentinels. Their intertwined branches formed a canopy so dense that sunlight barely kissed the jungle floor, plunging it into an eternal twilight. The air was thick with the weight of untold secrets, and the whispers of forgotten centuries seemed to echo in the rustle of leaves.
Deep within this forbidden expanse lay a forsaken graveyard, swallowed by nature's relentless embrace. Broken headstones jutted out of the earth like jagged teeth, their inscriptions long eroded by the passage of time. Vines snaked through the crumbling monuments, as if eager to reclaim the forgotten dead. In the heart of this graveyard stood a dilapidated house, its skeletal silhouette jagged against the pale moonlight. Shattered windows stared out like hollow eyes, and the wind slipping through the cracks carried whispers of unspoken horrors. Circling above, black ravens cawed ominously, their dark forms casting fleeting shadows over the crumbling structure.
---
In a pitch-black room within the house, a boy lay crumpled on the cold, damp floor. His body was wrapped in bloodied bandages, the crimson stains seeping through the once-pristine white cloth. His raven-black hair clung to his pale, sweat-slicked skin, and a faint metallic scent of blood hung in the air.
He stirred.
Raven's consciousness clawed its way back from the abyss, his eyelids fluttering open as though weighed down by the weight of a thousand nightmares. A sharp pain lanced through his body, and he groaned in a whisper.
"Ugh... it hurts..."
His voice was hoarse, barely audible, but it confirmed one thing.
"That means... I'm still alive," he murmured.
With a strained effort, Raven pushed his broken body up, leaning heavily against the wall for support. He scanned the room, but the impenetrable darkness yielded no answers. Every corner of the room was consumed by shadow, and the faint smell of damp decay filled his nostrils.
"Where... where am I?" he whispered, his voice trembling.
The last thing he remembered was the faint outline of two men in black suits standing before him. Their faces were obscured, but their presence had been chilling. Now he was here, trapped in this lightless prison. The thought clawed at him—this wasn't an accident. The "accident" that led him here had been orchestrated.
"So... I've been kidnapped," he muttered bitterly, leaning his head back against the wall.
"That's a sharp deduction, kid."
The voice startled him. Deep, gravelly, and emanating from the darkness.
Raven's eyes darted toward the sound. "Who's there?" he asked, his tone sharp despite his weakened state.
"Just an old man sharing your fate," the voice replied, calm but tinged with weariness.
Raven's brows knitted in confusion.
"Same fate? What do you mean?"
The old man chuckled softly, a sound that echoed eerily in the confined space.
"I mean, like you, I was brought here by those 'scythes' bastards. Chained in this hellhole for... God knows how long."
Raven's stomach tightened.
"How long?"
The man's voice grew somber.
"A year. Maybe more."
The words hit Raven like a punch to the gut. He opened his mouth to reply, but the sound of footsteps beyond the wall froze him.
The door creaked open, flooding the room with harsh light. A man stepped inside. He was short, with messy black hair and a thin scar under his left eye, a testament to past violence. He wore a white t-shirt and black pants, his smug grin twisting his face into something almost grotesque.
"Oh, so the princess is awake," the man sneered, his voice dripping with mockery. "Or wait—Prince, is it?"
Raven stared at him, his expression blank, refusing to give the man the satisfaction of a reaction. "Why am I here?" he asked, his tone icy.
The man chuckled, shrugging casually.
"Why? Beats me. Maybe I'll ask the boss for you."
Raven's gaze shifted to the far corner of the room, where a frail figure sat slumped. An old man, chained to the wall. His long white hair and beard gave him a sage-like appearance, but his eyes were alive with a fire that belied his age. He wore a ragged lab coat and jeans, his lips curling into a faint smile as he noticed Raven's stare.
"Why are you looking at me like that? I'm not a corpse, you know," the old man said with a laugh that echoed unsettlingly in the room.
Raven frowned, his mind racing to piece together the situation. Before he could ask anything more, the scarred man clapped his hands, drawing his attention.
"Alright, Prince, enough chit-chat. The boss wants to see you. On your feet."
Raven's empty gaze locked onto the man.
"And if I don't?"
The man smirked, pulling a switchblade from his pocket and flicking it open.
"Then I'll drag you there in pieces. Your call."
Raven's lips curled into a faint, defiant smile. Despite the pain radiating through his body, he slowly pushed himself up.
"Fine," he said, his voice cold and unyielding.
"Let's meet your boss."