That morning, for the first time since he had woken in this room, God Mervous tried to sit up.Not because he felt sufficiently recovered. Far from it. This body still felt like ruins that had not yet finished collapsing, every small movement reminding him of wounds that had not closed, every deep breath feeling as though something was gripping from inside his ribs and refusing to let go. But lying still without doing anything was beginning to feel more torturous than the pain itself. He had spent too long on his back staring at the ceiling, letting his thoughts circle the same place without going anywhere.*Enough.* He pushed his body slowly upward, bracing on his right elbow. The muscles along his back protested immediately, a sharp pulse radiating from his left shoulder down beneath his shoulder blade, making him stop for several seconds, waiting for the sensation to ease slightly before continuing.Finally he managed to sit upright, his back resting against the cold wall behind th

Edrick had made his decision.It wasn't a decision that came suddenly — not like lightning striking in a clear sky. The decision had come slowly, dripping little by little over the past several days, like water seeping through cracks in stone until the drops finally accumulated enough to fill a pool.Asking the guards hadn't worked. Bribery hadn't worked. Begging hadn't worked.So he would do it himself. His own way.---The opportunity came on the fourth day after he'd made that decision, a day when the slaves' work schedule was changed because a large shipment of building materials had to be unloaded on the west side of the compound. All the guards were redirected there, leaving several watch posts on the east side with unusual gaps.Edrick had noticed it since morning.He worked with his head down and his body moving like a machine, lifting, moving, lifting again, while his eyes kept scanning. The pattern of guard rotations. The corners invisible from any watch post. The gap betwee

Edrick didn't sleep again that night.Not because his mind was too busy like the nights before, this time it was different. This time there was something concrete he was holding onto, something real and something he could aim for. No longer just a resolve floating without direction.The last room at the end of the south corridor.Those words were driven into his mind like a nail into wood. Every time he tried to redirect his thoughts, the words pulled him back, patiently, stubbornly, in a way that gave him no choice but to keep thinking about them.But alongside that, doubt didn't leave either.That guard, the young man with unreadable eyes, could have been baiting him. Giving information specific enough to sound convincing, easy enough to follow, then waiting around the corner to catch him showing up in the wrong place with intentions he couldn't explain.That was the most logical thing for someone to do if they wanted to trap a slave who had repeatedly behaved suspiciously.But then