The Awakening

Consciousness returned slowly, like mud oozing through the corners of the mind.

Zareya was the first to fully awaken—not out of fear, but because of the wounded pride and fury clawing her back from the darkness.

They were in a clearing surrounded by towering trees, forming a crude arena. The air was thick with the scent of ashes and humiliation—the latter etched deeper into their minds than the former. Tied with coarse rope, stripped of their garments and ornaments, the five youths were laid bare before the hungry eyes of the bandits.

Thenara let out a low groan, attempting to move. The rope bit into her skin with each twitch, leaving angry red marks in its wake. Beside her, Myren fought the bindings with brute strength, muscles taut, eyes sparking with frustrated rage.

"Still yourself," growled one of the bandits, slamming a massive warhammer into the ground beside Myren’s face. "You’ll need that energy later."

Torven, still dazed, mumbled incoherent nonsense.

Jarn kept his eyes shut, breathing deeply—feigning unconsciousness, though his mind was already at work, measuring options.

Then she appeared. The leader.

She emerged from the shadows, revealed by the flickering light of torches. Scars crisscrossed her body like war maps, and the pelt of a Goliath swayed on her shoulders with each purposeful step. The symbol of the First Caste—smeared with mud and dried blood—still shimmered faintly, a twisted reminder of former pride.

She stopped before them, arms crossed, studying each face with the patience of someone who had done this many times before.

"You’re awake. Good," she said, voice calm.

Zareya lifted her chin, even while bound.

"Let us go. You have no idea who you're messing with."

The leader tilted her head, almost amused.

"I once said you were nothing. That was generous. Out here, you’re less than nothing. You’re debt. You owe the jungle—you owe those who came before. You shame the ancestors. I reject the old ways, but it's you who dishonor them."

She signaled with her hand. Three figures stepped out of the dark—two men and a woman, all bearing the telltale marks of the secondary caste. Their symbols were visible and untouched, worn with pride rather than shame.

"These ones," the leader continued, "They knew the weight of humiliation—and the power of surviving it. They know what it is to be deemed less."

Now, you will learn from them.

The first to step forward was a middle-aged man. Deep scars slashed across his chest.

His eyes burned—not with hunger for food or power, but vengeance.

"My name was Kael" he said, his voice raspy.

"When I was fifteen, I broke a First Caste instructor’s arm after he tried to humiliate me in front of the others. Doesn’t matter why. I struck outside the rituals. For that, they threw me into the mud."

"You’ll call me Instructor. And you’ll learn that resistance, as I once showed, can be... educational."

The second instructor was a young woman, only a few years older than they were.

Her left arm was a ruin—the skin blackened and torn in places, as if fire had carved deep grooves with cruel fingers.

"Yanna" she said. "Always been secondary caste. Seen plenty like you come through here."

Her gaze locked onto Thenara.

"Especially you, ex-elite. You’re going to be... interesting."

Thenara flinched, as if flame had licked her skin.

The third instructor said nothing. He simply stared at Torven with an expression that mixed disdain and something dangerously close to desire.

The leader clapped once, sharply.

"Rules are simple. You’ll earn the right to eat, to drink, to sleep on something other than filth. And yes," her smile widened, "you’ll earn the right to touch each other again."

Zareya and Jarn exchanged a quick glance.

Thenara felt Myren stiffen beside her.

"Each right comes with a price. A fight. A task. Your instructors will set the cost. And of course, not everything they ask will be rewarded. Sometimes, an Instructor simply wants to take something—because they can.."

Kael stepped toward Zareya, examining her like a predator sizing up prey.

"You—" he said, "you reek of authority. I bet you've never said please in your life, not even to your peers."

He smiled.

"Your first task is going to be... enlightening."

Yanna circled Thenara like a vulture.

"And you, darling, already know what it means to fall. But I bet you’ve never truly accepted it. Always thought you deserved to climb back up." She crouched, whispering, "Let’s see if you can accept staying at the bottom."

The silent instructor stared at Torven, then swept his eyes to Myren.

"You two," he said, voice rough, "rely on ****. You think brute strength solves everything."

He paced slowly around them.

"You’ll learn there’s a difference between being strong and looking strong. And that sometimes... the greatest strength lies in admitting when you have none."

The leader raised her hand, silencing all.

"Lesson one: hierarchy."

"Here, they command. You obey. That’s all there is."

Kael stepped forward, holding a wooden bowl of water.

"Thirsty?" he asked, dangling it in front of their parched faces. "Fresh water. Straight from the spring."

The five captives stared at the bowl.

Their throats were raw. Lips cracked.

"One drop for each of you who asks properly," Kael continued. "No demands. No orders. Just a please. Spoken with respect."

Zareya clenched her teeth.

The word “please” scorched her throat before it was even uttered.

"And after the water," Yanna added, appearing with a bowl of thick porridge, "anyone wanting food will need to offer something more."

Something that shows you’ve learned the lesson.

She stared directly at Thenara.

"You already know submission, don’t you? But I bet you’ve never thanked anyone for it."

Silence stretched.

The scent of the food made their stomachs growl.

The promise of water made their throats ache.

"We don’t have all day," muttered the silent instructor. "The thirst only gets worse."

But none of them moved.

Zareya kept her chin raised, defiant.

Thenara bit her lip until it bled, but said nothing.

Torven looked anywhere but at the instructors.

Myren’s breathing was heavy with rage.

Jarn... Jarn kept his eyes shut, but his mouth stayed closed.

Kael chuckled softly.

"Proud to the end. Beautiful."

He poured the water onto the ground, slowly, letting each drop soak into the dry earth.

"Thirst will hurt worse tomorrow. And you’ll remember that you had a chance."

Yanna placed the porridge on the dirt, just far enough for the scent to reach them—but not their hands.

"Hunger teaches too. Sometimes better than words."

The leader watched it all with a pleased smile.

"Interesting."

Still think you have a choice?

She signaled the instructors.

"Let them dwell on it overnight. Tomorrow, we’ll see if pride feeds as well as it promises."