Mate 03 - Her Bitter Fate

Sage’s Point of View

The darkness swallowed me whole. My legs burned with exhaustion, and every breath felt like shards of glass tearing at my chest. But I couldn’t stop. I couldn’t let myself stop, not even for a moment. I heard the angry shouts of the crowd, the sickening growls of the vampires, and then, in the deepest part of my heart, Mom’s voice. “I love you, Sage. Run!” Her words rang out, distant but clear, like an echo of something I could never hold again.

My body refused to listen to my mind. I stumbled, my feet dragging through the dirt and the night, my arms heavy, and my heart shattered into a thousand jagged pieces. I couldn’t breathe. I couldn’t think. All I could do was run.

My legs wobbled beneath me, and my vision blurred, but I didn’t care. I found a small cave at the edge of the forest, a shadow that promised some semblance of safety, even if it was only temporary. I collapsed inside, my hands scraping against the cold stone floor. I wanted to scream, to sob until there was nothing left, but no sound came out. My throat was too raw, my chest too tight.

I curled into a ball, trembling uncontrollably. My body had run itself dry, but my mind wouldn’t let me rest. I kept thinking of her—Mom, my protector, my only family. I could still hear her voice, still see her face, and the thought that I might never see her again was like a weight pressing down on my chest, suffocating me.

I wanted to go back. I needed to go back. But what if they were still out there? What if I couldn’t save her? The thought paralyzed me.

My thoughts spiralled, and the pain was too much to bear. And then, like a cruel twist of fate, darkness consumed me.

When I woke, the faint glow of dawn had crept into the cave. My body was still trembling, but I was too numb to feel it. I blinked, trying to push the fog from my mind, but it lingered, clouding my thoughts. I didn’t want to open my eyes. I didn’t want to face the reality of the night I had just escaped.

But I knew I had to. I had to go back to see if she was there, to see if there was still hope.

I crawled out of the cave, every muscle protesting, my mind screaming with grief and confusion. My legs were weak, but I forced myself to walk. My heart hammered in my chest as I approached the village.

The smell hit me first. Smoke. Burning. Destruction.

When I reached the outskirts, I froze. The village was gone. The houses were nothing but charred skeletons, the walls blackened and falling apart. The silence was deafening. There were no voices, no laughter, just the crackling of dying embers.

I stumbled forward, my knees giving way beneath me. I felt a cold, heavy feeling spread through me, a sense that I had lost something far more precious than I had realized.

And then I saw her.

There, amidst the ash and rubble, lay my mother. Lifeless. Her body was cold, her eyes still open as if she were staring into the endless void.

“Mom!” I screamed, running to her side. My heart tore as I knelt beside her, wrapping my arms around her fragile body. “Why did you leave me?” My voice broke as I buried my face in her hair. “What am I supposed to do now?”

I could feel the weight of the world crushing me, suffocating me, and there was nothing I could do to stop it. My mother—the only person who had ever loved me, protected me, and kept me safe—was gone. And I couldn’t save her.

Tears blurred my vision as I clutched her tightly. It felt like my world had shattered into a million pieces, each one too sharp to touch. I didn’t know how to go on without her.

In the midst of my grief, I felt something cool against my chest—the locket. It pressed against my skin like it was calling to me like it was a part of her that I still had. The gem inside caught the faint light of the morning sun, gleaming as though it were waiting for me.

I pulled it out, my fingers trembling as I held it in my hands. I could hear Mom’s voice again, this time in my head: “When you lose your way, the locket will guide you.”

My chest tightened as I stared at the gem, the weight of her words sinking in. I have to keep going. I have to live for her. I whispered to the wind, my voice barely a breath, “Mom, I promise . . . I’ll find my real father. I’ll uncover the truth. I won’t let your sacrifice be in vain.”

I didn’t know where to go. I didn’t know what to do. But I stood up, despite the tears, despite the overwhelming sadness that threatened to swallow me whole.

With the locket pressed tightly to my chest, I took a step forward, then another. I didn’t know where I was going, but I knew I couldn’t stop. Not yet.

My legs ached, my feet dragging through the dirt, but I didn’t stop. I didn’t know where I was going. I didn’t care.

Maybe I would collapse. Perhaps I would die in some forgotten corner of the world, just like my mother had.

***

I didn’t hear them at first.

Exhaustion had dulled my senses, and my body was too weak and broken to notice the rustling in the trees or the faint sound of footsteps trailing behind me.

Then—

A rough hand clamped over my mouth.

I screamed, but the sound was muffled, swallowed by the harsh grip crushing against my face. My arms flailed, my nails clawing at the skin of my attacker, but they were stronger.

Too strong.

“Feisty little thing, isn’t she?” a voice sneered behind me.

I kicked wildly, but a sharp blow to the back of my head sent me tumbling forward. My vision blurred, the world spinning as darkness edged into my sight.

"She’ll fetch a high price."

I tried to fight. I tried to scream.

But my body was giving up.

The last thing I saw before the darkness took me was the sky above—empty, hollow, just like me.

When I woke, my wrists ached.

Cold metal shackles bit into my skin, chains rattling as I shifted. My head throbbed, the dull ache of hunger gnawing at my stomach.

I was in a cage.

Dim candlelight flickered around me, revealing the barred walls of my prison. I wasn’t alone. Other cages lined the room, each holding someone like me—helpless, silent, broken.

Fear curled around my throat, suffocating me.

Where am I?

Before I could process anything, the door creaked open.

A man stepped inside, his boots clicking against the stone floor. His eyes swept over us like we were nothing more than merchandise.

And that’s exactly what we were.

Merchandise.

Slaves.

I gritted my teeth, swallowing the bile rising in my throat. I had heard of places like this—where people were sold like livestock. Their lives traded away with the flick of a coin.

My breath came out in short gasps, my body trembling.

I couldn’t be here.

I had to escape.

I had to—

“Bring her out.”

I stiffened.

The guards moved toward my cage, their hands unlocking the bars with practiced ease. Before I could react, they grabbed me by the arms, dragging me forward.

I kicked and thrashed, but it was no use.

A heavy slap struck my cheek, sending me sprawling onto the cold floor.

Pain exploded in my skull.

“Stop fighting,” the man sneered, his voice laced with amusement. “It won’t change anything.”

He grabbed my chin, forcing my face up to meet his eyes. “You belong to the highest bidder now.”

That was how I ended up here.

An enslaved person.

Stripped of my freedom, my name, my identity.

Two years have passed.

Two years of pain. Two years of endless work.

I spent my days scrubbing floors until my fingers bled, the raw skin catching on the harsh stone. Nights were just as gruelling, spent lying on the hard, straw-filled cot in the slave quarters, barely sleeping, unable to escape the nightmares that followed me even when I closed my eyes. The nobles never looked at me. They never acknowledged me.

To them, I was invisible.

A shadow.

Just another body in the endless sea of servants, stripped of identity, of humanity.

But even in the darkest places, I found a friend.

Mira.

She was the first to speak to me, her voice low but unwavering, cutting through the suffocating silence of my isolation.

“You’re new.”

I barely had the strength to nod. My throat was dry, raw from both the years of silence and the crushing weight of despair. But Mira’s gaze softened. There was a fire in her eyes that refused to be snuffed out.

“They’ll break you if you let them.”

Her words weren’t meant to be comforting. They were a warning, an acknowledgment of the hell we lived in.

I swallowed hard, the lump in my throat threatening to choke me. “I don’t know if I can take it.”

Mira’s lips twisted into a bitter smile. “You don’t have to. Not forever.”

The air was thick with the scent of sweat and damp stone, a constant reminder of the grim reality we lived in. The castle's walls towered above us, keeping us locked away from a world we could barely remember. The days were long, the work relentless, but at night, in the quiet of the slave quarters, we found moments of peace.

Mira, Finn, Leena, and I—our small circle—had become something more than companions in suffering. We were a family—a broken, bruised family, but a family nonetheless.

I watched Mira as she sat on the cold stone floor, pulling thread through the fraying edges of an old shirt. Her hands were quick, moving with a practiced ease, but there was a weariness in the way her shoulders slumped—an exhaustion that spoke volumes of everything she had endured. Yet, even in the darkest corners of the castle, there was something unyielding in her, something that refused to break. She was the one who always kept us together, even when it felt like the world was slipping away from us.

Leena sat beside her, her back straight, her eyes focused on the dim light of the single candle between us. Her once-pristine dress was now nothing more than rags, but she wore it with a quiet dignity that reminded me of who she used to be. There was a fire in her still, despite the coldness of the stone beneath her and the weight of the chains on her wrists. Her silence was often the loudest thing in the room—each unspoken thought and memory pressing against the walls, yet she never let it swallow her.

Finn leaned against the wall, his gaze flicking from one corner of the room to the other, always vigilant. His sharp eyes missed nothing, even in the dead of night when it seemed there was no threat. He never let his guard down—not even here, in the solitude of the quarters. His posture was always tense, like a coiled spring ready to snap at the slightest disturbance, but now and then, I saw something in his face—a flicker of something softer, a momentary glimpse of the man he used to be before the chains. That man had dreams. Dreams of freedom, of a life beyond these walls. He’d shared them with us once before the weight of the castle’s tyranny had hardened his heart.

I sat against the wall, knees drawn to my chest, my eyes drifting between them. In this broken place, they were my lifeline. The world outside these walls might have forgotten us, but here, with them, I remembered what it meant to be human. To feel, to hope.

Mira looked up from her sewing, her gaze meeting mine. Her eyes were tired, but there was a quiet strength in them—a promise. “We’re more than this,” she said, her voice low but sure. “We’re not just slaves. Not just objects.”

I nodded, feeling the weight of her words settle in my chest. The pain of our reality was undeniable, but her belief—her unshakable belief—was like a beacon in the dark.

Finn shifted, his voice cutting through the silence like a knife. “When we get out of here . . .” He paused as if testing the thought, as if it was something foreign, something he was afraid to believe in. “When we’re free, it’s not going to be easy. But we’ll make it. Together.”

Leena didn’t respond right away, but I saw the flicker of resolve in her eyes, a spark that hadn’t died, no matter how much the castle tried to smother it. She turned her head toward Finn, her lips barely curving into a smile. “Together,” she repeated, the word heavy, full of meaning. It was a promise.

For a moment, the room was still. The weight of the silence pressed on us, but it wasn’t oppressive. It was comforting. We didn’t need to speak any louder, grand plans, or speeches. The bond between us was strong enough to fill the space with more than words.

Then, Mira’s voice broke the quiet once again, gentle but filled with certainty. “We’ve survived this long. And we’ll survive whatever comes next. But we can’t do it alone. We need each other.”

There was something in her tone that made the world outside feel smaller and less important. The cold stone walls and the harsh realities of the castle faded away, and for a moment, all that mattered was this small, fragile family we had built within the darkness.

I could feel the weight of their words, the promise that we would escape together. It wasn’t just a plan anymore—it was our shared future. We had waited for the right moment, watched for any sign of weakness in our captors, and memorized every nook and cranny of the castle like it was our blueprint for freedom.

Finn’s sharp eyes scanned the room one last time before he nodded, his jaw set in determination. "We’re ready," he said. “We’ve waited long enough.”

Leena stood, brushing the dirt from her hands, her face a mask of resolve. “It’s time,” she said quietly, but there was an unspoken strength in her voice.

And Mira, as always, led us. She stood as well, her eyes steady, her voice unwavering. “We’ll do this. We’ll get out of here, and when we do, we’ll have each other. That’s the one thing they can never take from us.”

I stood with them, my heart pounding in my chest, the weight of the plan hanging in the air. We were no longer just slaves in the castle. We were something more. We were a family. And no matter how hard they tried, they could never break us.

And tonight, the night we had prepared for, would be the start of our escape.

***

The fire roared in the distance, a blaze of light and fury. Panic spread through the halls, filling the air with shouts and confusion.

We ran.

The wind howled around us, a deafening chorus, as we sprinted through the cold, dark forest, our footsteps silent against the stone.

Freedom was just beyond the gates.

And then—

“Stop them!”

A shout.

Footsteps pounding behind us, getting closer.

"”Run!” Finn shouted.

We ran faster, harder, my legs screaming for mercy, but I didn’t stop. We couldn’t. We had come too far. We were almost there. Almost free.

But then—a scream, sharp and agonizing.

I turned just in time to see Mira fall.

Blood bloomed against her clothes, her body crumbling like a broken doll.

"No!" My heart tore from my chest as I lunged toward her, but Finn grabbed my arm with a grip like iron, pulling me away.

“We have to go!” His voice was panicked, desperate. “Sage, we can’t—”

“We can’t leave her!” My voice cracked, raw with anguish, with the unbearable weight of loss.

Mira’s lips parted, her face pale, blood slipping from the corner of her mouth. But she still managed a weak smile—a smile that cut through me like a blade.

“Go,” she whispered, her voice barely audible. "Be free . . . for me."

A sob tore through me, my chest tightening with the kind of pain I had never known, the kind that suffocates and consumes.

I wanted to stay. I tried to fight. I wanted to tear down the castle, rip it apart for what it had done to her, to all of us.

But I couldn’t.

She was gone.

Finn pulled me away, his hands firm, even as my heart shattered with each step.

Mira’s blood stained my hands. Her final words, her final gift, etched themselves into my soul like a brand.

And as I ran, I made a vow.

I would never be a slave again. I would never let them take anything from me again. And one day—I would return. And I would burn this place to the ground.

I ran.

The wind howled through the trees, branches clawing at my skin, pulling me back like desperate hands trying to hold me to the past. The cold air burned my lungs, each breath feeling like shards of glass in my chest. My legs screamed in protest, but I didn’t stop.

I couldn’t stop.

Mira’s blood was still warm on my hands.

Her voice—weak, fading—still rang in my ears.

"Go. Be free . . . for me."

I clenched my fists so tightly my nails dug into my palms, trying to hold back the sobs that threatened to break me. The pain in my chest was unbearable, suffocating. It crushed me, each breath harder than the last.

Mira was gone.

And I had left her.

My steps faltered for a second, the world spinning, but Finn’s grip on my wrist was the only thing holding me together. His voice was sharp, desperate.

“Sage, don’t stop! She died so we could get out!”

I swallowed hard, forcing my feet to keep moving, one step at a time.

Leena was ahead of us, her breath ragged, her once-pristine dress now torn and stained with the grime of escape. She didn’t look back—not even once. None of us did.

We couldn’t.

Not if we wanted to live.

By the time we reached the outskirts of a small village, exhaustion had finally caught up to us. Our legs buckled under the weight of the journey, and we collapsed against the side of an abandoned cart, the ground hard and unyielding beneath us.

For a moment, none of us spoke.

We were alive.

But Mira wasn’t.

I stared at the dirt beneath me, my chest heaving with shallow breaths, but it wasn’t enough. The weight of everything—the loss, the fear, the rage—pressed down on me, suffocating.

Mira should be here.

She should be sitting beside us, laughing softly, telling me to stop crying, teasing Finn for almost tripping over his own feet. She should be alive.

My fingers curled around the locket hanging from my neck—the same locket my mother had given me, the only piece of her I had left.

I had lost her.

And now I had lost Mira.

How many more would I lose?

“We need to keep moving,” Finn’s voice broke the silence, hoarse and filled with the weight of his grief. “The guards will come looking.”

Leena nodded, her face tight, her eyes hard with determination. “We need shelter. Food. Somewhere to hide.”

Finn’s gaze flickered toward the village. “We can blend in. Stay low. Act like we belong.”

I nodded, but my heart wasn’t in it. We had no choice.

We thought we were safe.

We were wrong.

The village was quiet, still wrapped in the stillness of early morning. The scent of fresh bread floated from a bakery nearby, mingling with the crisp morning air like the world was unaware of the hell we had just walked through.

We walked carefully, heads down, faces smeared with dirt. We looked no different from the poor labourers who lived on the outskirts of the village.

We thought we were safe.

But we weren’t.

“You there!”

The voice cut through the quiet like a dagger, sending ice down my spine.

A man stood at the entrance of a tavern, his gaze sharp, calculating. Too well-dressed to be a villager. Too clean.

I felt Finn’s body stiffen beside me. Leena’s grip on my hand turned cold as death itself had touched her.

We turned to run.

But the village had already betrayed us.

A group of men stepped from the shadows, surrounding us.

Trapped.

No. Not again.

I reached for something—anything—to defend myself, but before I could, a blow to the back of my head sent me crashing to the ground, darkness flooding my vision.

Finn lunged forward, but another guard caught him, slamming him against the wall.

Leena screamed.

I barely registered the pain before hands grabbed my arms, yanking me up and dragging me away. My vision swam, but I saw her—the woman.

She stood beyond the circle of guards, watching.

She had been the one to betray us.

Her eyes met mine for a fleeting second. And then—she looked away.

As if we were nothing.

As if I was nothing.

“Take them back,” one of the guards barked. “The castle wants them alive.”

And just like that—

I lost my freedom again.