Page 4 of Captive Heart

I push the thought aside and focus on my patrol, my wings slicing through the air as I soar over the lush vegetation below. But even as I do my duty, I can't help but feel a growing sense of unease.

There's more to the world than The Elder wants us to believe, and I'm determined to find it.

Even if it means going against the leader of our people.

3

LYRA

The ship creaks and groans as it slices through the waves, the constant motion making it difficult to keep my footing. I've been hiding below deck for days now, surviving on scraps of food I've managed to steal from the crew's stores. It's not much, but it's enough to keep me going.

I'm scavenging for my next meal when I hear a soft shuffling sound behind me. I freeze, my heart pounding in my chest. I'm not alone.

Slowly, I turn around to find a young human slave boy staring at me with wide, frightened eyes. He's small and thin, his clothes little more than rags. He looks like he hasn't eaten a decent meal in weeks.

"Please," I whisper, holding out my hands in a placating gesture. "I don't want any trouble. I'm just trying to find something to eat."

The boy's eyes dart around the room, as if looking for an escape. He's clearly terrified, but there's something else in his expression, too. Suspicion.

"Who are you?" he asks, his voice barely above a whisper. "What are you doing here?"

I hesitate for a moment, unsure of what to say. I can't tell him the truth, but I can't lie to him either. He's just a child, after all.

"I'm a stowaway," I admit, my voice barely above a whisper. "I snuck on board in the hopes of finding a better life."

The boy's eyes narrow, and he takes a step back. "You're a runaway slave," he says, his voice filled with disgust.

I flinch at his words, feeling a sudden stab of guilt. I was born into slavery, taken from my parents and sold to a wealthy elven family. I've never known anything but a life of work and obedience.

"Please," I say again, my voice pleading. "I don't want to cause any trouble. I just need some food."

The boy hesitates for a moment, his expression softening slightly. But then he shakes his head.

"I can't help you," he says, his voice firm. "If the elves find out you're here, they'll kill us both."

My heart sinks as I realize he's right. The elves are not known for their mercy, especially when it comes to runaway slaves. I'm on my own.

But before I can even begin to think of a plan, the boy's expression changes. His eyes widen in fear, and he takes a step back.

"They're coming," he whispers, his voice barely audible. "You have to hide."

I don't need to be told twice. I dart behind a nearby crate, my heart pounding in my chest. I can hear the sound of footsteps approaching, the low murmur of elven voices.

And then, suddenly, the boy is standing in front of me, his small body trembling with fear.

"I found her," he says, his voice shaking. "She's hiding behind the crates."

The rough hands of the dark elf crewmen grab me, pulling me out from my hiding spot. I struggle against their grip, but it's no use. They're too strong.

They drag me up onto the deck, where the cold wind bites at my skin. I'm surrounded by leering faces, their eyes raking over my body with a hunger that makes my stomach turn.

"Look what we found," one of them sneers, his voice dripping with malice. "A little human runaway."

The others laugh, their crude suggestions for what to do with me making my skin crawl. I try to keep my head down, my eyes fixed on the wooden planks beneath my feet.

But then I feel a hand on my chin, forcing me to look up. It's the ship captain, his smug smile making my blood boil.

"Well, well," he says, his eyes roaming over my body. "What do we have here?"

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