Bound and Broken: An Isekai Adventure Dark Fantasy (Melas Book 1) by V.A. Lewis (autobiographies to read .TXT) 📕

back to look at the town, as the flap flew open one more time; I stared at the desolation, and felt glad that we were not stopping there. Because—

"If whatever attacked the town, attacked us, do you think it will spare us since we’re captives?"

I looked back at the two Beastkin, and neither one met my eyes. I sighed.

"Thought so."

There were still many stops between where we were and Bys. A week and a half worth of travel, at the very least. Enough time to plan and stage an escape— or be killed by whatever it was that destroyed that town.

More days passed and the Mancis Company made their way further into Besha. As the caravan rolled down the gravel and dirt roads that connected cities and towns, they never stopped for long, only setting up small camps to rest the night before continuing at dawn.

Once, we arrived at a small city with stone walls twice as tall as any human man. The walls lacked any form of crenellations, with very few defenses, and guards too ill equipped to fend off more than a handful of Monsters at a time. In fact, it looked like the city had been attacked quite recently, as some parts of the walls were caved in, and replaced with hastily built wooden barricades.

The city itself was mostly untouched; there were only three or four fully collapsed wooden houses, and smoke was not billowing out of the ruined homes, giving off the impression that the attack happened over a week ago.

I only saw this because of the quick routine inspection the city guards did of the caravan, as we entered through the gates. In fact, they seemed to avoid the Beastkin as well, only peeping in through the flap of the wagon, and looking around for anything suspicious or illegal.

Because we were going to stay in the city for more than a night, the Mancis Company had our cages unloaded and placed into a storage room of sorts, alongside the crates full of equipment and food.

During that whole process, I finally managed to see Theodore again for the first time since Boleria. He was one of the slaves assigned to help unload the cargo into a wooden warehouse near the city square, and although I was relieved to see him at first, my face instantly fell when I caught a proper glimpse at him.

The middle aged man did not look well: purple marks and bruises littered his body, with a scar streaking across his face. As slaves, we never were well-fed because of the nature of our position, but Theodore’s pale complexion and thin frame made it evident that he was purposefully starved for days as a form of punishment. And despite all that, they were still forcing him to work.

Immense guilt weighed down my chest, as I knew it was my fault he was being tortured like this. When I looked at him, I instinctively flinched, and averted eye contact. I could not bring myself to see him. And he must have noticed this.

Theodore continued to bring out crates and boxes alongside other slaves, until it was time to bring out the cages the Beastkin and I were in. They were being supervised by the guards to prevent anyone from trying to unlock the cages, but Theodore still went for the metal cage I was in.

Along with three other younger men, they heaved and carried us out of the wagon and into the warehouse. As they entered the building and walked up to the room to keep us in, Theodore opened his mouth and spoke softly.

"It’s not your fault."

It came out barely as a whisper; something only meant to be heard by me. And with the sounds of crates and cages being unloaded filling the air, I was certain none of the guards heard it.

Upon hearing that, I looked up and managed to muster the courage to see Theodore. I stared at him, and the discolorations on his skin, and the wound on his face, finally taking it all in.

"I’m sorry," I said instinctively.

I did not force myself to speak, nor did I feel like it was appropriate to say anything at that moment; but I uttered the words regardless. Because I was sorry.

Rin and Shang looked on at this quiet conversation, and exchanged a glance, but said nothing; they were spectators to this moment, so they just watched.

Theodore looked up at me, and we held that look for a moment. I stared deep into his eyes, past his brown iris, through the pupil, and into the darkness that it held within.

"I had a daughter, once," his voice came out, hollow. Empty. As dark as the black circular opening in the center of his gaze. "She looked nothing like you. She had short orange-brown hair that she liked to tie into pigtails, and hazel eyes that sparkled like gold."

Our eyes stayed locked, and although I wanted to blink— to look away— I did not. He continued speaking, his voice dreamy, as if he were under a spell.

"And yet, when I look at you, I can only see her. I see her smile, shining as brightly as the sun. I hear her voice, as serene and beautiful as the birds singing at the break of dawn."

He finally broke away, and stared up at the ceiling as we entered a room. The door swung open, and we were brought to a halt as we reached a row of boxes placed on top of each other. The older man shook his head.

"And when I see you get hurt— when I see your suffering— all I can see is my daughter going through the same. Before she…"

His voice trailed off, and he slowly lowered the cage along with the others. They placed us amongst a bunch of crates, and the other