POV: Zayn

Suraken told me his story, leaving me speechless throughout. His tale was so terrible that even in my naivety, I grasped his thoughts. Despite everything, I couldn't help but admire his strength, not physical, but mental. If I were to learn of the death of any family member or comparable suffering, I would be shattered.

I contemplated Suraken, his eyes filled with pain, his face marked by suffering. 

The silence stretched, enveloping our souls in a thick veil. Finally, my voice made its way through this heavy quietness, barely more than a whisper:

"Suraken, how did you survive all of this? Where do you still find the strength to carry on?"

He slowly turned his head towards me. His eyes, filled with infinite sadness, seemed to contemplate a distant horizon as he replied in a barely audible voice:

"I was living happily, unaware that my life could change so drastically. I eventually understood that existence is unpredictable. This war seemed endless, yet it ended when no one expected it. Now, I live only with the hope that my torments will end one day, entrusting myself to karma."

Despite our differences and the words used, whether he believed in karma or I in destiny, we were relying on what we couldn't control.

Consumed by worry, I felt the words leave my lips before I had even thought about them:

"What happened to your friends, the other villagers, and especially your little sister, Anaya?"

Suraken briefly closed his eyes, as if gathering his memories. When he reopened them, his voice was soft, almost distant:

"I imagine that most of the surviving adults have become slaves. I've lost all contact with them, but I trust in the armour that protects Anaya and that girl. According to my mother's stories, even if they lose their lives, the skill endures as long as its bearer lives. So I'm reassured that they cannot suffer and assume they've become domestic servants, as they can't be exploited in any other way."

I was somewhat relieved for them. I didn't ask about the others, because we both understood what they might have endured, just from hearing the echoes of slave life here.

However, a question was nagging at me. Having learned that the treaty had been signed by the six continents and that slavery was abolished, how had we ended up here? I asked Suraken this question, mainly seeking to understand how Kibara could have turned a blind eye to such an incident.

Suraken stared at me for a long time, his gaze seeming to weigh each word before he uttered them:

"I can only assume, Zayn. The information I've been able to gather is fragmented and contradictory. But I know that the attack on our village wasn't an isolated act. Powerful, high-ranking beings dared to violate one of the clauses of the peace treaty. As for Kibara, our Shahansha was in a delicate position after signing the treaty and didn't have the necessary authority to react."

I then realised that something was wrong. The Peacers should have intervened since the clause had not been respected. Should we expect their help soon? His answer was unexpected.

"Zayn, you seem to have been born and raised in Zafar. As you've noticed, most of the other slaves come from continents even further away than ours. In your opinion, why does this country seem to break every law?"

Suraken's eyes darkened, his voice became more serious as he replied:

"The answer is simple: the country we're in is '[Censored]'. It's a territory that doesn't belong to any Shahansha, because whoever acquires it automatically wins the war."

Surprise made me stutter:

"W-what? How so? What's so special about this territory?"

Suraken shrugged, his face betraying his own lack of understanding:

"I don't know any more than you do. I just know that the treaty forbids any continent from claiming this territory for this reason. Since no authority seems able to impose its law here, this place has become a lawless zone, allowing the worst scum of humanity to find refuge here and indulge in their most infamous vices, including slavery."

I looked at Suraken, but his eyes only reflected the harsh reality, a bitter truth that we had to accept.

After a moment of reflection, marked by the weight of the revelations, I felt the need to divert our minds from these overwhelming thoughts. "Have you ever heard of the Soulmaster legend?" I asked, trying to bring up a lighter subject.

Suraken looked at me curiously and shook his head. "No, I've never heard of it," he replied, his interest piqued.

"Then let me tell you this story before we fall asleep," I proposed, a shy smile lighting up my face. He settled comfortably, ready to dive into the tale my mother used to read to me.

I narrated every detail to him: the origin of this individual, the mysteries surrounding him, the fact that he launched our current calendar, and especially the message he left before extinguishing his flame: "I was not the last. A day will come when a being whose will is so strong that the world will bend to it. He will be the one who brings dawn to the darkness that will engulf our cosmos."

Seeing a glimmer of intrigue in his eyes, he asked me why I had chosen to tell him this particular story. I raised my eyes to the damp ceiling of our cell, my thoughts wandering to memories of a bygone era. "My mother often told me this story," I confided softly, my voice tinged with nostalgia. "It was my favourite story. I dreamed of becoming this exceptional being who would guide the world towards peace. But this hope faded when I realised that I might never have the abilities to achieve it."

"Nevertheless, I wanted to share it with you, Suraken, because I still believe that such a being could one day come into existence and repair all the ills that plague our world. Let's not lose hope. Who knows, maybe this being will be the one who saves us from this hell."

Suraken looked at me, his eyes reflecting a glimmer of hope mixed with sadness. "Thank you for telling me this story, Zayn," he said. "It gives me something to hold on to."

I offered him a tired but sincere smile. "Let's rest. Tomorrow will be another day, and we'll need all our strength to endure the horrors of our jailers."

The night ended as quickly as it had begun, giving way to the day.