𝐓𝐇𝐈𝐒 𝐈𝐒 𝐍𝐎𝐓 𝐀 𝐒𝐔𝐂𝐂𝐄𝐒𝐒 𝐒𝐓𝐎𝐑𝐘. 𝐓𝐇𝐈𝐒 𝐈𝐒 𝐀 𝐑𝐔𝐈𝐍𝐀𝐓𝐈𝐎𝐍.
It's the beginning of a new age when Jaylah Imperatrix seemingly returns from the dead to reclaim her throne. And in perfect timing.
In her absence, evil has be...
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Act 1 Chapter 75 ALEXANDER
During the next two weeks, every day blurred together. Alexander woke up in his blanket-less cot before the sun rose, he was transported with the others to the factory, where he worked until after the sun set. Dinner was nothing but gruel, which was cheap to waste on slaves, then he was sent to bed with his entire body aching. Then the cycle repeated. And repeated. Alexander was growing more exhausted with each passing day. He'd already had problems feeling safe enough to sleep, but they now chained both his arms to the side of his bed. He still made them uneasy, but they had learned their lesson from his escape. For once, they had nothing to worry about.
All the other slaves still watched Alexander from afar in a mix of apprehension and admiration. Like he was a hero from a legend, a beacon for suffering. They knew of his rocky relationship with their master, so he had to assume they considered being too close with him as being too close to a whipping when Alexander inevitably did something rebellious. He was the worst war slave on the estate. When he was younger, he wore that title like a badge and flaunted it in his master's face, always ready for his swift retribution. Now Alexander wondered if such rebelliousness was really only for himself in hopes of proving that although he might have been a sorry little servant, at least he was not pathetic enough to let any man walk all over him unchecked.
He did not have that energy anymore. He could not look to the future with hope any longer, because the only future he knew as reality was a long line of months and years of working. Just working until his arms couldn't lift and he died from enervation. There was no need to be insubordinate because he could no longer hide his own pitifulness.
Maybe he had finally learned his place.
The only sources of light in his new life were Kyuwa, the brother Alexander owed this place for allowing him to find all those years ago, and Milyena, who had been relatively timid at first, but proved to be good company on those grueling days in the dim factory. On the days when she was called to the house, her gentle presence was notably missing. Unlike Kyuwa, Alexander did not know her story. Though he did notice how she was so quick to apologize, the manner that she held herself in when anyone approached, like she wanted to make herself smaller of a target.
Alexander and Kyuwa were arriving back into the barracks one day at sunset—a rare early end—when Kyuwa nudged his shoulder into Alexander's. "Look."
It was Milyena walking with two other women back up to the house to which they'd apparently been called last minute. "If she returns in the same shape as that other girl..."
"We can fantasize about killing them," Kyuwa finished. It was all they could do.
As if feeling their eyes on her turned back, Milyena threw a glance over her shoulder. Her eyes connected with Alexander's from afar. A rare smile appeared on her face before she turned away.
