The Aielind Chronicles: Journey

Chapter Five: Haeyl

Light filtered through the small window, casting a faint rainbow of colors across Haeyl’s face. She blinked slowly, trying to ignore the discomfort of the light. The stone room was cold and silent, save for the occasional drip of water from a crack in the wall. Haeyl rolled over, her thin body curling up into a tight ball as she pulled the rough burlap blanket tighter around her shoulders. The window, though small, was her only connection to the outside world, but it was a cruel reminder of her captivity.

She hated the stillness. It made her thoughts feel louder, like they were the only thing left in the world.

Her fingers twitched as she brushed her hair back from her face. It was coarse, tangled from nights spent sleeping on the stone floor, and it always smelled faintly of the damp air that seeped into the room. She ran her fingers through it, pulling it into a knot at the back of her head. Her reflection in the cracked stone mirror across from her was a stranger. The face staring back at her was gaunt, hollowed by hunger and neglect. Her skin was pale, her cheeks sunken, and her eyes—once full of light—were now dull, weighed down by exhaustion and fear.

She sighed softly, closing her eyes. She had learned to survive in this place, to endure the cold and the hunger. But it wasn’t living. It was a kind of waiting. Waiting for something, anything, to change.

BANG! BANG! BANG!

The noise sliced through the stillness like a knife. Haeyl’s body stiffened at the sound. Her heart raced, and her breath caught in her throat. She knew that sound. The pounding on the door. The voice that followed. Her master’s voice.

“Get up, you filthy animal! Don’t make me get the stick again!”

She winced, her stomach clenching. The threat was enough. She didn’t need to see him to know what would come next. The pain. The anger. The humiliation. Her whole body seemed to shrink in on itself as she scrambled to her feet, her movements quick and jerky.

The dress she wore was the same as always—rough, oversized, and patched in so many places it was barely recognizable as a garment. It was the only thing she had ever owned. She pulled it on quickly, the fabric scratchy against her skin, the seams pulling in places where it had been mended too many times. The ragged hem brushed against her bare feet as she moved toward the door, each step heavy with dread.

As she reached for the door, the unmistakable sound of the whip crackled through the air. She had only just opened it when the lash of the whip caught her across the midsection, sharp and sudden. Haeyl gasped, the pain blooming like fire through her body. Her knees buckled, but she forced herself to stay upright, gripping the doorframe for support.

“I told you to get up!” Her master’s voice was thick with fury, the words like poison. “You think you’re special? Think you’re too good for the work I give you?”

Haeyl didn’t answer. She couldn’t. Her throat tightened, and she pressed her lips together, biting back the words that threatened to spill out. She had learned long ago that silence was the safest choice. She had learned to endure the insults, the pain, the humiliation, without ever speaking a word in response. Her master liked it that way—liked that he could control her, break her down piece by piece until she was nothing more than a tool to be used.

Her master stepped closer, his boots scraping against the stone floor. She could feel his eyes on her, like a weight pressing down on her shoulders. His breath was hot and sour as he leaned in, his voice low and menacing.

“You’re nothing but a worthless animal. You’ll never be anything more. Now get to work. And if you think about slacking off again, I’ll make sure you regret it.”

Haeyl’s hands trembled as she nodded, her heart thudding in her chest. She turned away from him, her steps slow and deliberate as she moved toward the corner of the room where the cleaning supplies were kept. Her fingers brushed against the rough cloth of the rag as she picked it up, but her mind was elsewhere. Her thoughts were focused on something else entirely. The coin.

It was a small thing, hardly noticeable, but to Haeyl, it was everything. She had taken it from her master’s pouch, slipped it into the folds of her dress when he wasn’t looking. It had been so easy. Too easy. And now, with it nestled against her chest, she felt the weight of it—a weight that was both a burden and a promise. A promise of freedom.

Her master’s voice broke through her thoughts, sharp and accusing. “You’re slow. Are you trying to get me angry?”

Haeyl flinched, but she didn’t respond. She could feel his eyes on her, could feel the heat of his gaze like a brand on her skin. She scrubbed harder, faster, trying to focus on the task at hand. But the coin, the stolen coin, burned against her chest like a secret she couldn’t keep.

Her mind raced. She knew what would happen if he found out. He would punish her. He would make sure she never forgot her place. But the thought of that coin—of the freedom it represented—was enough to drown out the fear. She had taken it. She had stolen it. And now, there was no turning back.

Her master’s voice came again, this time colder, more calculated. “What’s the matter with you today? Are you too tired to work?”

Haeyl’s breath caught in her throat, her heart skipping a beat. She could feel the anger in his words, the threat of violence just beneath the surface. She had to be careful. She couldn’t afford to make him suspicious.

But it was too late.

He stepped forward, his hand reaching out to grab her arm. “Look at me when I’m talking to you,” he snapped.

Haeyl’s pulse quickened. She could feel his grip tightening around her arm, his fingers digging into her skin. The sting of his touch was enough to make her stomach churn. She had to get away. She had to leave. But how?

Her eyes darted toward the door. It was her only escape, but it was also the one thing that would betray her. If she ran, he would follow. He would find her.

The thought of the coin burned in her chest, a reminder of what she had done. A thief. A fugitive. But she was also free. And that was worth everything.

With a sudden burst of movement, she wrenched herself free from his grip, her heart pounding in her chest. She didn’t think. She didn’t stop. She just ran.

Her feet hit the cold stone floor, her breath coming in short, ragged gasps as she darted toward the door. Her master’s voice shouted after her, but she didn’t turn. She couldn’t.

She pushed the door open, the cool air of the morning rushing in to greet her. The sunlight was harsh after the dim light of the room, but Haeyl didn’t care. She ran.

Her feet hit the cobblestones, the sound of her footsteps echoing in the empty street. She didn’t know where she was going. She didn’t care. All that mattered was getting away from him, from this place. From the life she had known.

She ran, the coin heavy against her chest, the weight of it a reminder of the choice she had made. She had stolen it. She had stolen it, and now she was a thief, a fugitive. But she was also free. And that was worth everything.