His to Break

Chapter 1

Kara

The darkness of the mine presses in on me, suffocating and cold. I drag another stone across the rough ground, the jagged edges biting into my palms. My hands throb, raw and bleeding. I bite my lip to stifle a whimper. No time for weakness.

“Move it, you scum!” A dark elf overseer yells, his voice sharp like the crack of his whip. The sound reverberates off the damp walls, making my heart race. I flinch but keep my eyes downcast, focusing on the weight of the stone and the rhythm of my feet against the rocky floor.

The air smells stale, heavy with sweat and despair. Around me, other humans hunch over their loads, backs bowed under burdens far heavier than our bodies should bear. We’ve learned to work in silence; any hint of resistance earns us a punishment worse than death.

“Faster! Faster!” The overseer strides down the line like a predator stalking its prey. His violet eyes gleam with sadistic delight as he snaps his whip again. One of my fellow miners squeaks out a frightened yelp as the tip bites into his shoulder.

“Keep moving!” I hiss at him, urgency in my tone. He nods but doesn’t meet my gaze. We all know better than to draw attention to ourselves.

I shuffle forward, weaving through shadows cast by flickering magical lights embedded in the walls. The dim glow illuminates just enough to reveal grim faces—each one a reflection of hopelessness mirrored in mine.

“Get those stones outta here before I decide you need a taste of this!” The overseer taunts, cracking his whip dangerously close to another miner’s ear.

My heart pounds as I push through the dirt and grime clinging to me like a second skin. Each day bleeds into the next—a blur of aching limbs and mind-numbing labor. Escape feels like an impossible dream wrapped in chains.

“Why do we even bother?” One woman murmurs nearby, her voice barely above a whisper as she drags her own load. “We’ll never be free.”

Her words resonate deep within me, igniting a flicker of rebellion that I quickly shove down. “Shut up,” I hiss back under my breath, casting a quick glance at our overseer.

But she just shakes her head, defeated.

Every ounce of strength drains from me as despair tightens its grip around my chest like a vice. Survival becomes instinctive—an animal's urge to hide and endure rather than fight back when all hope feels lost.

The rhythmic clang of stone against stone fills the mine, a monotonous symphony of despair. My muscles ache, but the routine lulls me into a trance—until it shatters like glass.

A group of dark elves gather in the center, their hushed murmurs slipping through the air like shadows. I freeze, heart racing. Something feels different today. The overseer barks an order for us to halt, his eyes scanning our faces as he gestures toward the circle forming among the elves.

“Step aside, you wretches!” he snarls. We shuffle away, confusion brewing in our chests as they begin to lay out strange symbols on the ground. My stomach twists at the sight—a mix of ancient runes and shapes that make my skin crawl.

The air thickens with tension as they chant in a language I barely understand. Whispers ripple through my fellow slaves like a gust of wind, curiosity battling fear in their wide eyes. I stay silent, drawn into the spectacle before me.

Dark energy coils around us like a tightening noose. It prickles against my skin, making every hair stand on end. I want to turn away, to flee from whatever this is—but I can’t look away. 

Then it happens—a rift tears open in midair with a roar that shakes the very foundations of the mine. A figure emerges from the chaos: tall and imposing, its glowing red eyes piercing through the dimness like twin suns igniting flames of terror within me.

His presence is suffocating. I can feel his power vibrating through the air—intense and chaotic. My heart pounds against my ribcage, each thump mingling fear with an inexplicable thrill that sends shivers down my spine. 

He doesn’t belong here; that much is clear as he lashes out with primal fury. The force of his movement sends dark elves flying backward like rag dolls caught in a storm. Gasps erupt around me; terror grips my fellow slaves as we stumble back.

“Run!” someone yells, panic slicing through the air sharper than any whip crack.

I should run too—my instincts scream at me to escape this madness—but something anchors me to this spot. I take an instinctive step closer despite every rational thought screaming against it. A strange urge pulls at me, one I don’t understand but cannot deny.

As chaos unfolds, remaining dark elves gather their strength and form a line, their hands raised as if to wield magic itself against this towering figure. Energy crackles in the air around them like electricity before they unleash their combined power—a torrent of shimmering chains erupting toward him.

He snarls and swats them aside like insects, but they’re relentless—more chains coil around him, binding him with strength that pushes against his own raw power.

The sight leaves me breathless; I've never seen anything like it—the overwhelming display of magic makes my pulse race faster than ever before. It’s mesmerizing yet terrifying all at once.

I can’t comprehend what’s happening—why I feel this strange connection to him or why my feet remain planted even as others flee for safety—but one thing is clear: there’s danger here beyond anything I’ve faced before.

Suddenly caught between two worlds—the primal urge to run for survival and an unexplainable pull toward this chaotic energy—I stand frozen while chaos swirls around me. 

I see glances exchanged among slaves and dark elves alike—horror mingled with fascination—and all I know is that everything has shifted beneath our feet in an instant.

But fear reigns over reason; instinct finally kicks in as those nearby scream and scatter into the shadows of the mine's depths.

And so I run too—every ounce of desire to survive overriding whatever mysterious force had called me closer just moments ago.

What the fuck just happened?