Reign of Shadows

The Shadows of Silence

The morning light seeped through the thin, cracked glass of Kaleb 's window, casting faint patterns on the floorboards worn smooth by years of restless pacing. He lay curled up on the small mat that served as his bed, every muscle in his body aching from the work of the previous day. The dawn was supposed to be a time of new beginnings, but for Kaleb, it was just another day in chains.

A loud bang on the door snapped him out of the half-sleep that clung to him. Before he could move, the door swung open, and Paul stood framed in the doorway, the harsh lines of his face set in a scowl. The stench of cheap ale clung to him, turning the air sour.

Up, you useless thing! Paul roared, his voice rough and unforgiving. He stepped forward and tipped the metal bucket in his hand, sending ice-cold water splashing over Kaleb face . The shock forced a gasp from his lips as he scrambled upright, shivering. I told you to clean the yard last night, but instead, you thought you could sleep? Paul spat, his dark eyes narrowing. "Do you think this is a place for freeloaders?

Kaleb's throat tightened as he bowed his head, water dripping from his hair and soaking into his thin, ragged shirt. "I'm sorry, sir," he whispered, his voice barely more than a breath.

Paul sneered, leaning closer until Kaleb could feel the heat of his breath on his face. "Sorry isn't good enough. You're here to work, not to waste my air." He shoved Kaleb back against the wall and turned, his heavy boots thudding across the floor as he left, the door slamming shut behind him.

The room fell silent, but the echoes of Paul's words lingered in his head. Kaleb exhaled shakily and pushed himself up, muscles trembling with fatigue. He reached for the towel beside his mat, drying his face and hands with slow, deliberate movements. His reflection in the cracked shard of mirror showed a boy with hollow cheeks and eyes too old for his fifteen years.

I hate it here, he whispered to the silent room. The world outside the window moved on without him, the distant laughter of children heading to school ringing out like a cruel reminder of everything he'd lost.

Jonathan's voice, sharp and mocking, cut through the air from downstairs. "Kaleb! If you don't get out here and start working, Father will come back up.

A shudder ran through Kaleb, but he forced himself to move. He walked past the few precious possessions he had: a overused book that had once been a gift from his real mother, given with a warm smile and the promise of endless stories to be shared. The pages were worn and delicate, the ink smudged from the countless times he'd turned to it for comfort. Next to it sat a small wooden toy horse, chipped and faded from the days when his father would carve toys for him in the quiet of the evening. The memory was a cruel reminder of the time before darkness took over, before everything was ripped away. Back then, the house had been filled with laughter, the gentle strumming of his father's gaiter echoing through the halls as his mother hummed along, her voice soft as a lullaby. But that life was a distant echo now, a world that had betrayed him. They were gone, leaving him behind to navigate this endless void alone. The love he once felt for them was tangled with bitterness, a burning resentment that they had left him defenseless and exposed.

He clenched his jaw as the memories receded, leaving him with the cold emptiness that had become his constant companion. Trust was a luxury he could no longer afford, and the warmth of connection felt like a weakness. Solitude was safer; solitude was survival.

Kaleb entered the kitchen where his adopted family awaited, their voices harsh and sharp, pulling him back into the present. The cold, joyless space mirrored the hollowness inside him. Here, surrounded by people yet utterly alone, he found a twisted sort of comfort in the silence that kept others at bay.