High above, the sky coated itself with a dark, swirling mass of gloom. Heavy clouds were hanging low and oppressive.
The rain poured down. It hammered the wooden carriage while its creaking wheels traveled through the slippery soil of the forest. Water splashed everywhere as it passed by the shallow puddles forming on the ground.
The drive up ahead was barely visible. The dark overcast descended to the ground, making it seem like it was leading them to their demise.
Inside the carriage, a group of exhausted bodies gathered together. Fatigue and despair filled their faces as the whispering wind struggled to break the looming silence.
A faint light seeped in through the rain-drenched windows. It exposed their slender figures that were covered with thin pieces of cloth, alongside the weighty shackles that restrained their hands and feet. With every bump on the road, their bodies screamed in pain as they were tossed around the carriage, hitting against its rough walls. Yet, they endured it in silence.
The tall, ancient trees of the forest swayed and creaked in the wind as the gloom of the clouds above seemed to press down. It merged with the shadows of the trees, sending shivers down their spines.
Amidst the loud drops of rain hitting the moist, old ground, a pair of blank, golden eyes moved from between the tired eyes within the carriage. It glanced at the dark surroundings of the forest as the carriage continued moving.
Aksa, who couldn't help but distract himself from the pain by looking outside, suddenly froze in place as he caught a glimpse of a strange figure watching over them. A face of endless, pure darkness with subtle places of distorted skin.
Although it lacked all facial features, the figure gazed at the youthful figure of the boy, who looked indifferent at the sight in front of him. Even with the immense fear taking over his entire body, the young boy's face refused to show any emotions.
Soon after, the shadowy figure faded into the darkness of the forest, leaving the boy stunned, gazing outside with his eyes wide open.
A few moments later, the sound of the drenched wooden wheels paused. The carriage came to an abrupt stop, sending the young boy back to his senses.
"Are we there yet?" a deep, low voice emerged from the front of the carriage. As he spoke, Mark sounded impatient, enough for fear to overtake the minds of the boys.
"Aye." Scott followed with a quick answer, his voice somewhat carrying hints of regret, "The place looks worse than I remember".
Shortly after, the sound of a thud against the moist dirt of the ground reached the ears listening from within the carriage.
The dry lips of those dead-looking bodies inside began to shiver with fear, as their ears caught the sound of Mark's slow footsteps walking close by. With their eyes facing the floor, and their fragile figures trembling in fear, they awaited the opening of the carriage door.
Not so long after, a creaking sound emitted by rusty, old hinges echoed loudly as the cracked door swung open.
From the corners of their eyes, they tried to look outside. But the large figure of Mark, with his dense beard, blocked their view. With a clenched jaw, his eyes tried to avoid gazing at them.
Yet, even with the thick, long coat of wool that he was wearing, Mark's body couldn't manage to block the bitter wind that stormed into the carriage. Even so, they tried to remain calm as they glanced at the eerie darkness of the seemingly endless forest that lay in their sight.
"Out. Now." With a heavy sigh, Mark grumbled. A pinched expression covered his face as his voice cut through the silence like a sharp knife. He slammed the door with enough force to rattle the carriage before he added coldly, "Quick. Don't make me drag you out myself."
The boys scrambled to their feet, their chains clinking as they struggled to stand, and within seconds, all the boys were standing outside. Their shivering bodies didn't seem to affect Mark in any way, as his eyes remained cold while he stared at them.
Mark's face remained stiff as he slowly turned his head, facing Scott, who was standing next to him. "Go remove their shackles. I'll explain to them their work," he said.
"Listen here, filth!" In a loud voice that echoed through the dim forest, Mark called for the group before the sound of metal cracking as the shackles were opened quickly followed.
"For the next few days, you'll be clearing these trees. The baron wants this land ready soon, and he doesn't care if you drop dead doing it." Mark continued. The wrinkles on his face got stiffer and stiffer from the cold as time passed.
Hearing this, the group of young boys standing before him didn't seem to be fazed. Their faces remained neutral, not showing any emotions. However, their breathing became heavy as they gritted their teeth. Imaginations of the pain that they were going to suffer from began swirling in their minds.
Throughout their lives, everyone around them made sure to give them the same warning. They told them that showing any emotion would result in death. The baron constantly declared them equal to animals and unworthy of feeling emotions. But, they found death preferable at that moment. They couldn't continue living like this.
Without them realizing, tears began escaping some of the boys' eyes. The tears followed the curves of their still stern faces despite their crushed spirits and bodies.
However, the darkness of the forest managed to obscure their faces, hiding their depression from the two men standing close by.
A moment later, the clicking sounds of the shackles unlocking came to an end before Scott proceeded to drag them with their chains scraping against the ground. "I'm done here, Mark!"
"Well done, Scott," Mark replied calmly. "Drag those shackles into the carriage and bring them their equipment."
After a few seconds of muffled, rustling noises emerging from the carriage, Scott returned. His hands barely managed to carry 4 old lumberjack axes alongside 8 gloves that were barely held together.
"Need some help?" Mark questioned, his eyes glued to Scott's hands.
"No, it's fine. I can manage this much myself," Scott answered fast, an awkward smile slightly curving on his face.
Mark nodded slightly before turning his head to face the boys again. "Four of you will be cutting the trees, and the rest will move the fallen logs." Mark began explaining their roles as he slowly marched towards Scott. "Since this is the first time you are doing this kind of work, you get to use these gloves this time."
From the gloves Scott held, Mark snatched one and promptly showed it to the assembled group. "These contain the very essence of blood moon dust. Don't get used to it, though—This is an item that your filthy hands shouldn't be touching in the first place"
Mark then caught a glimpse of the raised eyebrows on Scott's face as he looked at him. He patted him on the shoulder before adding. "Don't worry, these are old and only carry a fraction of their original power. The baron didn't care about them so much since he already ordered new ones to be made"
"Ah, I see…" Scott quickly nodded in understanding.
"Moving on…" Mark stuffed the glove back into Scott's hand. He then grabbed one of the rough, old-looking axes.
"I will show you the proper movement technique so you can at least mimic me. But I will only explain this once, as I'm already doing this only because the baron ordered me to. Even though I think that it's nothing but a waste on the likes of you." Mark added, his eyes still appearing cold as his nose wrinkled in disgust at every word he said.
But he quickly realized his emotions slipping once again before managing to compose himself. He let out a heavy sigh as he flipped the axe around with one hand before he gripped it with both hands.
Moving his right foot forward and slightly to the right, he took a deep breath as he moved his hands upwards. Then, he swiftly swung the axe, rotating his torso with the motion of his hands as he let out a steady exhale.
Once the axe blade came into contact with the tree, a loud sound of impact emerged. Then, a rapid and strong gust of wind followed, sending shivers down the spines of the boys watching him carefully.
shortly after, they heard a subtle cracking sound escaping from the tree bark, and then a loud creaking of wood quickly followed as the tree slowly began to lean, as the strong wind seemed to strictly push it in one direction.
Its leaves rustled roughly with the other trees as they desperately tried to slow its inevitable fate.
After a few moments, the tree came into contact with the ground, displacing the gust of wind that carried the scent of crushed leaves and wet mud.
Everyone remained silent. A mixture of fear and astonishment covered their faces as their eyes remained glued to Mark. He slowly straightened his figure as he let out a long breath.
Mark then pointed his finger at Aksa before tossing the axe to him. "You and the three standing next to you will be cutting the trees. The rest will be carrying the fallen logs. Go take your equipment from Scott and get to work!"
Aksa became startled as he quickly moved to try and catch the axe. But he wasn't surprised that Mark chose him first. Although he was the oldest one in the group, thus making him the most capable one of the group, Aksa knew that wasn't the actual reason.
For as long as he can remember, Aksa has spent his entire life as a slave being tormented by Mark. He constantly got picked for the most physically taxing jobs while getting the least amount of rest. Mark also made sure to punish the boy for the smallest mistakes.
What Aksa didn't know, however, was why Mark was doing this. No matter how much he tried, he couldn't remember any time where he did anything to piss him off or even speak against his orders even once.
Nevertheless, even with Mark's treatment towards him, Aksa never protested, as he knew that it would only lead him to his death.
With his face remaining blank and his empty eyes avoiding contact with Mark's, Aksa slightly nodded before starting to walk towards Scott.
Marks's nose crinkled as his lips curled into a sneer while his eyes looked at Aksa, as if the very sight of him was making him want to vomit.