Blinding light, piercing screams, relentless pain, and a burning need for water and food overwhelmed his senses. His mind was flooded by a chaotic wave of sensations—muffled sounds surrounded him from all directions, and the searing dryness in his throat made swallowing almost impossible. Something inside urged him to stay still, to wait until the pain faded and his mind cleared.But the instinct to survive screamed louder. He had to find out where he was.
Cautiously, he opened his eyes, uncertain of what he would see. He didn't even have time to take in his surroundings before the tip of a whip sliced through the air. A dark streak tore through the space in a blink. The pain was immediate—burning. His body tensed instinctively, but Alex still had no idea who was hitting him or why. He tried to focus, to remember how he had gotten here, but his memories were foggy. He clenched his eyes shut in protest."What's happening? What are you doing?" he managed to whisper in a faint, barely audible voice that almost didn't pierce the heat-trembling air. He didn't understand how he ended up here. Before him stretched an endless desert—a sea of golden sand, rippling dunes, and not a single sign of civilization.His hands, blistered and wounded, trembled from the pain. Every movement was torture. The sun-scorched skin burned with every breath.
A figure stood above him—a tall silhouette in colorful robes, a hood hiding the face. Before Alex could make out any details, sharp pain slashed across his back. The whip cut the air again, and the strike knocked the breath from his lungs."No more lying down!" the figure roared from above. "If you don't get up and start marching, you'll get ten more lashes! And if you speak again, we'll see if you've got enough strength to carry supplies with a broken jaw!""Because of today's delay, you'll only get half your ration of water and food. Let's see if that cheers you up!"
He clenched his teeth and forced himself to rise. His body resisted every move, his legs heavy as lead, but he knew that if he stayed down, worse suffering would follow.He wanted to scream, to ask where he was and who these people were, but his cracked, bloodied lips produced only a hoarse whisper."WHAT DID YOU SAY?!"
The whip cracked again—once, then a second time. Alex bent under the force of the blows, tears of pain welling in his eyes."Now! Back in line, where you belong!"
He had no choice. He dragged his feet and returned to the line with the other wretches. He didn't know how long this had been going on or where they were being led. As he joined the group, his instincts began analyzing the surroundings, trying to understand where he was and who the others were.Their faces were scorched by the sun and exhausted. Sweat, dust, and resignation painted each expression—as if hope had long since abandoned them.
No one spoke. There was no water. There was nothing—only the sun.
As Alex tried to continue walking, his knees gave way. He collapsed, but someone grabbed his arm and pulled him up.He looked up. The man's face was coated with dust, his eyes hollow. He didn't say a word. He simply kept walking.
Alex tried to remember what had come before. Work? City streets? Rain? Someone he talked to? Maybe a tree? Everything blended into a single, blurry smear. As if someone had wiped his life clean from his mind.Only one thing remained—heat, sand, and pain.
He looked at one of the men walking beside him. An older man with a vacant stare. Alex gathered the last of his strength and whispered:"Where are we?"
The man didn't flinch. As if the question had never been asked. Or as if there was no point in answering.
They kept walking. Hours passed—maybe six, maybe seven. It was hard to tell. Time had lost its meaning when the only sign of its passage was the sun drifting across the sky.
At some point, a guard riding one of the strange, horned, thick-skinned creatures signaled. The caravan stopped near ancient stone ruins, partially protruding from a rocky slope. On one side, the area was surrounded by a sunken, half-buried wall; on the other, several massive monoliths rose. The sand here was slightly cooler, and the remnants of buildings cast a bit of soothing shade.
One of the guards stretched a cloth between two of them, creating a large, shaded area for the rest of the people. Others began herding the slaves inside, and soon after, they were setting up colorful tents for a few men in gaudy clothes—they looked like merchants.
Some of the slaves who carried supplies brought blankets and thin mats. They spread them on the dry sand, where the buildings' shadows offered a bit of relief.Alex dropped to his knees without a word and, nearly crawling, slipped into the shade of one of the walls.His back burned from the sun, the skin on his neck throbbed with pain. He was no longer thinking of anything but rest and water.
After a moment, the guards approached with water flasks. One of them, broad-shouldered, his face covered and eyes devoid of compassion, handed out water in silence.When he reached Alex, he gave him only a brief look, then tossed the flask at his feet.
Alex didn't wait. He grabbed it with both hands, pressed it to his lips, and began drinking. The water was warm, damp, with a slight taste of the skin it had been stored in.Still, every sip was bliss. He drank greedily, feeling his body slowly regain some strength.
Suddenly, a harsh voice sounded above him:"That's enough."
Before he could react, the guard snatched the flask from his hands. Half was still left. Without a word, the man raised it to his own lips and drank the rest, staring Alex straight in the eye.When he finished, he licked his lips, spat in the sand, and wordlessly tucked the empty flask into his belt.
It was the same guard who had whipped him earlier. Now, once again, he made it clear—there were no choices here. You listen. You obey.
Alex looked at his body—wounded, red from the sun. Every muscle throbbed with pain, and his skin burned as if it would split open.He felt like he was on the brink of collapse—that one more march and he wouldn't get up again.
And yet… something inside him endured. A spark.
He clenched his fists. Even if he didn't know where he was or where they were taking him. Words echoed in his mind—words he had heard recently, though he couldn't remember who had spoken them or when."You'll have to earn it with blood, pain, and courage."
He wouldn't let himself die on this cursed desert.