Run

The next thing I knew, I was no longer in my village.

Stone walls pressed in around me, damp and cold, swallowing every sound. The air reeked of rust and rot, of old wounds and despair. Days blurred into nights, and nights into weeks. I never saw the sun again.

The only company I had was my own blood — pooling on the dirt floor, drying on my skin, marking me with scars I was too young to understand. My body ached, my breath grew thin, yet still I clung to life, as if some invisible hand refused to let me slip away.

Sometimes I would whisper to the shadows, “Mama…?” But the silence was louder than any answer.

In the dark, I learned pain. In the dark, I learned fear.

But somewhere beneath the wounds, buried deep beneath the suffering, a seed was planted. The stone’s light — the one that had chosen me — had not died. It pulsed faintly within, waiting.

And though I was only a child, though I was broken and forgotten… destiny had not forgotten me.

I was broken.

My body ached with wounds that refused to heal, my skin marked with the cruelty of hands that saw me as nothing more than a prize. Hunger clawed at me until even the taste of air felt heavy. I was only a child, yet I had learned the weight of despair too early.

I was hurt.

Every breath was a battle, every blink a prayer. My tears had long dried, leaving only the sting of salt on my cheeks. My voice had faded into silence — there was no one left to hear it.

I was on the brink of death.

And yet… in the stillness, when my heart beat weakly against my ribs, I felt it. A faint warmth, a light that was not of this world. It lingered inside me, pulsing softly in the darkness — the same glow that had once danced in my small hands the day I found the stone.

The barbarians had broken my body, but not the secret buried within me.

The light had chosen me. And even as death reached for me, destiny would not let me go.

One night, as I lay curled against the cold stone, barely clinging to breath, voices seeped through the cracks of my cage.

At first, I thought they were only echoes — cruel whispers my mind had conjured. But then I heard the words, clear and merciless:

“Even if you have to grind her to get the powers… do it.”

The world tilted. My stomach knotted. My hands trembled so violently I pressed them against my chest to keep them still.

They did not see me as a child. Not as flesh, not as blood. To them, I was nothing more than a vessel. A thing to be broken. A thing to be used.

Tears burned my eyes, but none fell. I had no tears left.

Something inside me cracked that night — the last fragile thread that tied me to the girl who once ran in fields, chasing sparrows and sunlight.

I was no longer just a child in a cage.

I was prey.

And if I were to live, I would need to become something else.

A thunderous blast shook the walls.

Stone cracked. Dust rained from the ceiling. Screams erupted outside the cage — guttural cries of men, the clash of steel, the roar of fire.

But I did not move.

I only lay there, my cheek pressed against the dirt, my eyes half-closed. I had been broken too many times to flinch, too many times to scream. Pain had carved me hollow, and shock had stolen every piece of me that could still react.

The world could burn to ashes around me, and all I could do was breathe. Shallow. Empty. Silent.

Perhaps this was what it meant to die before death.

The blast came again, louder, closer. Shadows flitted across the cracks in my cage, and still I did not rise. My body refused. My heart refused.

But somewhere deep inside, the light stirred.

It waited — not for my strength, not for my courage… but for the moment fate would finally open its hand.

What I saw next was something I never thought I would ever see.

The blast thundered again, and this time its force struck the iron door of my cage. A sound like thunder splitting the mountains rang in my ears.

The iron groaned, shuddered, then cracked.

A jagged line split across its surface, glowing faintly with heat. Dust poured down, the hinges screamed, and with one final shiver — the door slipped open.

For a long moment, I only stared.

Freedom. A thing I had long buried in dreams I no longer dared to dream… now lay in front of me, as unreal as the stars.

My heart should have leapt. My lips should have cried out. But all I did was blink, hollow, my body still pressed to the floor.

I was too broken to move. Too scarred to believe.

And yet… the door was open.

The chains that bound me to this darkness had cracked.

Fate had stepped into my cage.

I don’t know what gave me the courage.

Perhaps it was the silence after the blast.

Perhaps it was the door, hanging open like a wound in the wall.

Or perhaps… it was the last spark of life the heavens had refused to let me lose.

With the last bit of strength left in my body, I pushed myself from the ground. My legs trembled, every step like knives through my bones. But I moved. I moved because if I stayed, I would die as nothing more than a sacrifice.

So I ran.

Stumbling, gasping, my hands scraping against stone walls as I forced myself forward. Every breath tore through my chest, every heartbeat screamed for me to stop.

But I did not stop.

For the first time in what felt like an eternity, the air rushing against my face did not reek of blood and rot — it smelled like night. Like open space. Like freedom.

And though I knew I was weak, though my body could collapse at any moment… I ran.

I ran because I could.

I ran because I had to.

I ran because somewhere inside, I still wanted to live.

I was finally free.

The night air wrapped around me like a long-lost embrace. My bare feet stumbled through the forest, grass brushing against my skin — soft, alive, real. I had forgotten what it felt like to touch the earth, to breathe air that was not drenched in blood and iron.

For a fleeting moment, I was a child again. Running. Laughing. Chasing sunlight across open fields.

A small smile tugged at my lips, trembling but true. The first in what felt like lifetimes.

But it was too late.

My body was broken beyond repair, my wounds deeper than my spirit could hide. The trees blurred, the stars above swayed, and my legs crumpled beneath me.

I fell.

The forest floor rose to catch me, cool and gentle against my fevered skin. My eyes fluttered, heavy with sleep, heavier with surrender.

And as the darkness crept in once more, I whispered to myself — maybe to the heavens, maybe to no one at all:

"At least… I was free."

***Download NovelToon to enjoy a better reading experience!***