The sun dipped behind the mountains, casting long shadows across the camp. A hush quickly fell over the pens as a tall sapien strutted through the grounds, flanked by several armed guards. His battle-scarred face and muscled frame spoke of violence, and the massive axe strapped to his back gleamed dully in the fading light.

  Belmund burst from his tent, his fat jiggling as he rushed to meet the man. "Boss! You're just in time to see the new stock."

  "These better be worth my time, Fatso." The man's voice carried the casual menace of someone used to being obeyed.

  "Oh yes, especially this one." Belmund waddled to my cage, gesturing excitedly. "A 'Dirtborn' monster, Boss. Harke confirmed it. First one of it's kind! Think o' what the southern kingdoms would pay for such a rare creature!"

  The man, apparently the one in charge of this awful place, approached my cage. His eyes held the cold calculation of a merchant appraising livestock. I remained still, my mechanical body rigid with disgust.

  He turned to address the pens. "Listen well, slaves. I am Chanos, boss of Qordos, and I welcome you to the Lodrik Hellzone! Worry not; your stay here, if you are lucky, will be brief."

  The large sapien glanced around at the prisoners in the pen, his grim scarred face glaring at each and every one of them. "Just remember this one rule of Qordos and you shall be fine: in this camp, I am your god. You will treat me as one of the Holy Twelve themselves, for your lives are mine." He paced before the cages. "All of you worthless pieces of meat are bound for the southern kingdoms. Behave, and you might survive the journey. Disobey..."

  The large man smiled, revealing yellowed teeth. "Well, I won't kill you; dead slaves are worthless, after all. But I will beat you to within an inch of your miserable life. Then I'll get creative." He laughed, jerking his thumb towards where Harke stood trembling. "Our friend here will patch you up afterward. He's quite skilled at putting broken things back together."

  Harke flinched at the cruel praise, his hands twisting in his robes.

  "Remember," Chanos continued, "your lives mean nothing to me beyond the coin they'll bring. Act accordingly."

  As he turned to leave, I fixed my eyeless gaze on his back, hatred burning in my chest. This man was no god, whatever that was. I had forgotten much, but I knew what a lowlife was. This strutting thug with delusions of grandeur was nothing but a petty tyrant.

  Hours crept by. I sat silently in my cage, mind awhirl, stuck deep within disconnected thoughts. The clatter of a large pot and wooden bowls broke the evening quiet, bringing my awareness back to reality. Two slavers shuffled between the pens, ladling out gray-white slop that reeked of spoiled vegetables and stagnant water. They shoved these through the bars and prisoners lunged for their portions, shoveling the gruel into their mouths with dirty hands.

  Harke approached my cage carrying a wooden platter piled with an assortment of items. Raw meat dripped blood onto vegetables, and clumps of grass and hay filled the remaining space.

  "I-I wasn't sure what your kind eat." He set the platter near my cage. "The meat is fresh from today's hunt, and I gathered some p-plants from around camp." His eyes darted to my mechanical frame. "Please, show me what you p-p-prefer."

  I stared at the offering, then shook my head. Since emerging from the earth, I'd felt no hunger, no thirst. Just the constant ache of my mangled flesh.

  "You must eat something." Harke pushed the platter closer. "Even monsters need sus-sus-sustenance."

  Again, I shook my head. My shriek-cursed voice prevented me from explaining that food was meaningless to this broken form of mine.

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  "Very well." Harke's shoulders slumped. "I'll leave it here in c-case you change your mind during the night."

  After he left, I tilted my head skyward. The moon hung full and bright, casting silver light across the camp. Around it, familiar constellations wheeled in their ancient patterns: Kol, the Hunter's Bow; Miz, the Serpent's Crown; Ash Shell, the Shattered Shield. In my fractured memory, their names remained clear as white crystal while all else was shadow. These eternal, twinkling lights were my only companions now, unchanged since before I clawed my way up from darkness from beneath the soil and into this cruel, awful world.

  A sharp scream pierced the night. My head snapped toward the adult pen where a thin figure managed to squeeze his lanky body between bent bars. The man sprinted across the moonlit ground, but he made it only twenty paces before the guards tackled him.

  They dragged the escaped prisoner to the center of the camp, throwing him down in front of all the pens. Torchlight cast dancing shadows as the guards circled their prey.

  "Watch close, you lot!" One guard barked. "This's what runners get."

  Clubs cracked against bone. Fists pummeled flesh. The man's screams turned to wet gurgles as blood filled his mouth. After minutes of savage beating, the slavers pinned down his hands. One by one, they snapped his fingers backward until each digit jutted at wrong angles.

  Children wailed in their pen, terrified at the sight. Mallie gathered the smallest ones close, shielding their eyes while her own remained fixed on the violence. Her freckled face had gone deathly pale.

  The guards tossed the broken man back into his pen like a sack of meal, his body hitting the ground with a meaty thud.

  "Healer!" Belmund's voice boomed, sounding annoyed. "Get over here!"

  Harke rushed past my cage, medical book clutched to his chest. He dropped beside the moaning prisoner and started a cursory evaluation of the damage before his hands began to glow with healing magic.

  "They b-b-beat him too hard!" Harke's voice shook. "I-internal bleeding... crushed organs... he might not-"

  "That bastard better survive!" Belmund growled as he watched the healer work. "Lest you want to feel the guards' batons yourself!"

  Harke's mouth snapped shut. Sweat beaded on his forehead as he worked, jaw clenched in barely contained fury. The prisoner's ragged breathing filled the tense silence as the emerald light from his hands began to knit broken flesh and bones.

  I gripped the bars of my cage, metal creaking under my mechanical fingers. The casual cruelty that these men committed was obscene. How could humans do this to each other? We had more important matters to worry about than fighting amongst each other! The Primordials-

  My thoughts paused.

  Wait. The what?

  Those razor clear recollections that had so swiftly sprung up from my shattered mind slipped away just as quickly, dissolving into hazy, spectral wisps that my struggling consciousness failed to grasp. What thoughts had I just seen? Why did this unsettling sense of disquiet now surge throughout my being?

  What in the world were the Primordials?

  Dawn crept over the mountains, painting the black sky bright orange. As the morning's light touched upon Qordos's tattered tents, slavers began to extinguish their torches. Freshly slept guards replaced those who had duty the night before, and cooking fires were lit to feed the hungry men their breakfast.

  The escapee from last night lay motionless where he'd fallen, chest rising and falling in shallow breaths. Harke had worked throughout the night to save him, his healing magic barely keeping the man's broken body from giving out.

  Belmund's bulk cast a shadow across the pens as he rattled the metal bars. "Rise and shine, you worthless lot!"

  Bleary-eyed prisoners stirred from their fitful sleep upon the dirt floor. The fat slaver's lips curled into a cruel smile.

  "Thanks to last night's entertainment, none of you get breakfast today. Can't have anyone getting ideas about running, can we?"

  The adult pen erupted in muttered curses. Several farmers shot venomous looks at the unconscious escapee. Belmund's belly shook with laughter at their reactions.

  He waddled over to my cage, his mirth dying when he spotted the untouched food platter from the night before. "What's all this then? Too good for our food, monster?"

  I remained still, my mechanical body unmoving. His face reddened.

  "Harke! Get over here!"

  The healer emerged from his tent, dark circles under his eyes due to lack of sleep. He stumbled towards us, exhaustion clear in every step.

  "Why isn't it eating?" Belmund jabbed a fat finger at my cage. "I won't have it dying before we can sell it down south!"

  "I-I tried last night." Harke's voice cracked. "It w-won't take any food I offer."

  "Useless!" Belmund kicked my cage, the impact nearly toppling his unbalanced frame. He caught himself, face purpling with rage and embarrassment. "You lot! Back to work!" He stormed off, bellowing at nearby guards.

  Harke's weary form slumped against my cage. "You're only m-making things h-harder for everyone by not eating. For me, for the others..." He gestured weakly at the pens. "He'll take it out on us when he's ang-ang-angry."

  I sat motionless, unable to explain through my cursed voice that I had no need for sustenance. My silence only drew a tired sigh from the healer.

  And so went my first day at Qordos. How I would give anything for it to be my last.