Out of the Abyss – Day 2: Chains and Smiles

The second day of captivity began not with the blare of horns or the clash of arms, but with the rattle of keys and the cold slap of reality.

Guards barked orders outside the slave pen. One by one, prisoners were prodded awake by the butts of crossbows through the bars.

Balack Rednoir rose with the poise of a queen at court, her chains clinking musically as she moved. Her black hair was a tangled crown, her expression a perfect, effortless smile.

"Up, little petals," she said, voice like velvet over broken glass. "Our hosts await."

Zharina Melinster stood already, silent and disciplined.
Edith Valor bounced up with wild energy, flashing a grin wide enough to crack stone.
Skyme Deleaf, three feet of cheerful menace, hopped to her feet like a spring-loaded toy.

Jimjar was already waiting by the gate, arms crossed, grinning from ear to ear.

"Morning, friends!" he called out. "I’ll bet one silver piece we get assigned water hauling again. Any takers? No? Cowards."

Skyme raised her tiny hand eagerly.
"I bet two silvers that Balack makes someone cry today!"

Jimjar laughed, delighted.
"You're on, little dagger."

Eldeth shook her head, muttering under her breath, but even she couldn’t hide a small smirk.

The guards barked again, and the prisoners were herded out. Balack, Zharina, Edith, Skyme, Jimjar, and Eldeth ended up grouped together — luck or fate, hard to say.

The task: hauling heavy barrels of water up from the small waterfall pool.

The barrels were nearly as tall as Skyme herself.

She stared at hers solemnly.
"This seems... rigged," she announced.

Balack crouched slightly, resting her chained hands on her knees to meet Skyme’s gaze, her smile a porcelain mask.
"Most games are, my dear. That’s what makes it so satisfying when you cheat."

Skyme beamed and threw herself against the barrel.
It barely budged.

Jimjar sidled up, carrying a barrel half-dragged behind him.
"Five silvers says she tips it over," he said to Balack with a wink.

Balack smiled serenely.
"I trust her completely," she said sweetly, placing a pretend coin into the air. "But I'll match your bet... in spirit."

Skyme, determined, pushed with all her tiny strength—and the barrel tipped sideways, splashing precious water all over the stone floor.

The guards cursed loudly, stomping toward them. One guard raised his whip.

Before he could strike, Balack stepped forward, raising her chained hands gracefully.

"My deepest apologies, honored warden," she said, voice pure honey. "I overestimated my servant’s strength. Please, allow me to correct my own mistake."

The guard grunted and shoved them back toward the barrels roughly, the whip snapping the air but not striking.

Jimjar, trailing along behind, grinned up at Balack.
"You owe me five silvers, Mistress Vinehands."

Balack laughed, musical and smooth, and dipped her head as if she truly owed him a debt.

Skyme bounced at Balack’s side, whispering fiercely:
"I would’ve stabbed him. Or bit his kneecap."

Balack patted her head gently.
"Another time, my dagger. Good knives wait for the right flesh."

The day dragged on. Carrying barrels. Cleaning rough paths. Being shouted at and kicked.

Jimjar kept up a steady stream of bets:

• "Bet you a copper Zharina carries two barrels at once." (She did.)

• "Two silver Edith tries to baptize herself in the water." (She almost did.)

• "Five silver Balack tricks another guard before supper." (He lost that one — barely.)

And Jimjar kept perfect track of every single bet, smiling every time he either owed or collected.
He even managed to secretly stash a tiny shard of something shiny into his ragged sleeve during labor, unnoticed.

As night fell and they returned to the slave pen, sore and exhausted, bowls of weak mushroom broth awaited.

Balack accepted hers with a perfect bow of the head, smiling as if the bowl contained rare wine.

"Your generosity humbles us," she said sweetly.

Skyme tried to balance her own bowl on her tiny knees, spilling more broth than she managed to drink.

Jimjar slurped his noisily, wiping his mouth on his sleeve.
"I bet one copper this stew has at least one spider in it," he said cheerfully.
Then added, "And I bet two that I eat it anyway."

Eldeth shook her head again but chuckled this time.

Zharina sat near the bars, back straight, alert despite exhaustion.

Balack leaned close to Edith and whispered, only for her:
"The seeds are planted. Tomorrow, perhaps... thorns."

Edith grinned wide, whispering some mad blessing back under her breath.

Above them, Velkynvelve was starting to quiet, but in the blackness of the great cavern... something else began to stir, unseen.