School of Affliction

2

The van came to a jarring stop, jolting me awake from the uneasy sleep I had fallen into. The iron chains still bit into my skin, leaving raw, angry welts where they had rubbed against me. My body ached, the aftereffects of the forced shift lingering like a bad dream. The air inside the van was stale and heavy, with a scent of metal and fear. My fear.

The doors were thrown open, and a rush of cold, damp air flooded in. I shivered as they unfastened my restraints and dragged me out. My feet hit the ground, the gravel biting into my bare soles.

I was too weak to resist, too numb to care, as they hauled me forward, the world around me slowly becoming focused.

I first noticed the smell—a pungent mix of concert and pain with a faint underlying scent of something metallic, like old blood. It was an odor that clung to everything, seeping into my nostrils and making my stomach churn. This was no ordinary place. It reeked of suffering, of lives spent in agony, and the walls seemed to absorb it all, exuding it back out into the air like a curse.

As they dragged me closer, I could hear the faintest echoes from within—distant screams, the clatter of chains, and the low, ominous hum of something mechanical. The sounds were muted like they were coming from deep underground. This place was alive with the misery of its inhabitants.

My father's words jump to the forefront of my mind. "In tough times, everyone has to take their fair share of pain."

Something told me I was in for far more than a fair share.

The door creaked open, the sound grating and hollow, and I was shoved inside. The walls were lined with portraits, their eyes following me as I stumbled forward, their expressions frozen in time. I recognized one photo: Madam Hollin, the school headmaster and founder. She smiled sweetly for the camera, but I had heard the rumors about her and this place.

That fake smile hides things...bad things.

Ahead of me, the corridor stretched into darkness, lit only by flickering sconces that cast long, distorted shadows. The guards flanked me on either side, their grips unyielding as they guided me toward my new reality.

This was it—my new prison. A place where I would be stripped of my will and my identity until there was nothing left but a shell, obedient and broken.