Page 5 of Chains of Nightshade

I keep my head down, focusing on the brush strokes against stone. Their boots stop near my bucket, expensive leather gleaming in the morning light.

"Why waste resources on creatures that can't even perform basic tasks?" The first voice drips with contempt. "The strong ones at least have some use."

"True." A laugh like breaking glass. "The weak ones are better off dead. It would be a mercy, really."

Water splashes over my hands as I dip the brush again. My fingers tremble, sending ripples across the dirty surface. The dark elves move on, their conversation fading into discussions of the upcoming feast, but their words settle into my bones like winter frost.

I sit back on my heels, wiping sweat from my forehead with a shaking hand. The room spins slightly, black spots dancing at the edges of my vision. My chest aches with each breath, like someone's wrapped iron bands around my ribs.

"I'm just a burden." The words slip out in a whisper, barely audible over the kitchen's usual clamor. "To everyone."

The truth of it weighs heavier than any chain. Even the other humans avoid me, afraid my weakness might somehow spread to them. Like a disease. Like a curse.

Many hours later, after being shoved, yelled at and beaten by the dark elves feasting, I'm relieved of my duties. My muscles scream from hours of serving, cleaning, existing.

I drag myself to my small corner in the servants' quarters, a threadbare blanket and straw mat my only companions. The stone floor beneath radiates cold through the thin material, but I barely notice anymore. It's just another discomfort in an endless sea of pain.

A rat scurries past my feet. Even it has more purpose than I do. At least it knows what it wants – food, shelter, survival. What do I want? Nothing. Nothing at all.

"Hey." Alice's voice drifts from her mat a few feet away. "You should eat something."

I turn my face to the wall. The thought of food makes my stomach clench. "I'm not hungry."

"You haven't eaten all day."

"What's the point?" The words slip out before I can stop them.

Silence follows. Then rustling as she settles into her bed. "Suit yourself."

The darkness presses in, heavy and thick. Somewhere above, the dark elves are probably still celebrating, their laughter and music muffled by layers of stone. Down here, there's only the sound of breathing and occasional coughs from other servants.

My chest feels hollow, like someone's scooped out everything inside and left nothing but an empty shell. What am I even doing here? Taking up space, using resources that could go to someone stronger, someone useful.

I pull the thin blanket tighter around my shoulders, but it does nothing to ward off the chill that seems to come from within. My eyes sting, but no tears fall. I'm too empty even for that.

The gods must be cruel to keep me here, trapped in this endless cycle of meaningless tasks and constant reminders of my worthlessness. Or maybe they've forgotten about me entirely. That would make more sense.

I close my eyes, praying to whatever deity might be listening. "Please," I whisper into my blanket. "Don't let me wake up tomorrow. Just let me fade away. Let everyone forget I ever existed."

The darkness offers no response. It never does.

4

AUREL

The darkness of my prison wraps around me like an old friend, but tonight something's different. The human presence above pulses stronger, more tangible. My coils shift against the cold stone as I close my eyes, focusing on that faint thread of energy.

"Interesting." The word echoes in my chamber. This connection shouldn't be possible, yet here it is, as real as the chains binding me.

I reach out with my consciousness, pushing past the physical barriers of stone and metal. The presence wavers, like a flame in the wind. Weak. So incredibly weak. Yet there's something else there, buried beneath layers of exhaustion and despair.

My tongue flicks out, tasting the stale air. "What secrets are you hiding, little human?"

The energy fluctuates, and I sense sleep – deep, troubled sleep. Dreams of darkness and endless corridors. Her mind flutters through shadows and frosted memories of her childhood. Glimpses of a past now fractured by a lifetime of abuse and trauma in the dark elf estate.

Perfect. The human mind is vulnerable, easier to touch, to influence.

I stretch my awareness further, letting it brush against the human's consciousness. The contact sends a jolt through my system. Raw power, untapped and unknown even to its bearer, lies dormant within this fragile vessel.

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