The Subjugated were not slaves, but they were far from being free people. They were those who, for various reasons, had lost the right to make decisions for themselves—convicts, war prisoners, debtors. Instead of chains, they were bound by the obligation to serve; instead of the lash, they were punished by a system with no escape. They bore the mark of their status—a brand seared into their skin and a shaved head, a constant reminder that their life no longer belonged to them alone. Some accepted it. Others tried to escape. But one thing was certain: once someone fell into the ranks of the Subjugated, the way back was nearly impossible.


Reng, Karhen Rouz Oasis


The wail of the siren echoed through the oasis, signaling the start of the morning shift. Its drawn-out sound seeped through the windows and dark curtains, reaching the room where Reng lay. Sirens blared every day at regular intervals, but this was the first one he truly noticed.


He opened his eyes. A ceiling covered in a web of fine cracks. The scent of old beams. Faded curtain patterns. Ked’s bedroom? Why am I here?


A glass bottle hung above the bed. His gaze followed the thin tube leading into his arm. Without hesitation, he tore out the cannula. It burned, but he ignored the pain.


Carefully, he touched the spot where he vaguely remembered the blade piercing his body, but he found only tightly wrapped bandages.


“She didn’t kill me,” he whispered in surprise. How? Everything in him screamed that he should be dead. And yet… he was here. He pressed his bare feet against the cold floor and flinched at the chill—another proof that he was alive.


He felt unusually weak, as if his body refused to obey him. The lingering effects of drugs still had their claws in his mind. Supporting himself against the wall, he slowly staggered to the kitchen. His knees buckled, and each breath ached. He reached the table, collapsing onto a chair rather than sitting down.


He looked around. This place. Just days ago, they had all sat here like a family. Now, the air was thick with loneliness.


He was starving and parched, yet he lacked the strength to do anything about it. It dawned on him that it would take time before he was back on his feet—if he ever would be. Still, he hoped that someone would show up to help him.


That someone turned out to be the last person he expected.


“By the whiptail, are you awake?!” Lanis shrieked in shock when she found his bed empty and, after a brief search, finally discovered him. “And what in the name of the Fate were you thinking?! That you’d go hopping around the house when your stitches are barely holding?!”


Reng just stared at her in surprise. He couldn’t think of a single logical reason why she, of all people, was standing in their house. Lanis, however, had no intention of wasting time on explanations. She spun on her heel and stormed off to wake Noel.


He heard him upset about the situation, but his brain had yet to put all the sounds together into meaningful words. Then he heard Ela's name mentioned, and immediately a flood of curses from Noel came.


“I can’t believe it! What has that girl done this time?!” Noel roared. Reng heard heavy footsteps and then the slam of the front door.


So he left. Left for her. Because of her. Just like always.


His gaze shifted back to Lanis, who returned with a stern expression.


“It seems like every problem in your family traces back to that girl,” she said sourly.


She didn’t wait for a response. She automatically prepared a light breakfast and placed it in front of him.


“Eat. Before you start playing the hero again.”


After finishing, he closed his eyes for a moment. For the first time since waking up, he felt just a little less miserable.


“What do you remember from that night?” Lanis asked directly, without pretense.


He frowned. The graveyard. A screaming crowd. Pain. Then a single clear image— a dark-haired girl vanishing into the throng, wiping his blood from her hands.


“Not much,” he admitted quietly.


He hesitated but finally dared to ask his own question. “What about Jara?”


“She’s gone,” Lanis replied almost indifferently. “Just like your Ked and plenty of others.”


“Where?”


“I don’t know. Most of them left with Gramps’ people,” she shrugged. “They had to go. That was the deal with Noel. Anyone with blood on their hands wasn’t allowed to stay.”


Reng stared at her. Gramps and Noel had made a deal? So they were both involved. He felt betrayed. It had all been for nothing, and whatever small shred of trust he still had in the old man vanished completely. His mind felt blank, every thought crashing against a solid wall.


By the whiptail, what had happened? He didn’t understand.


Lanis sensed his confusion.


“You slept through a revolution,” she said proudly. “Karhen Rouz is returning to its roots. The old order, new leadership. We will never stray from our path again. And one day, maybe our people will come back. Maybe even Jara.”


Reng remained silent. The good old days? He felt his throat tighten with bitterness.


“Praise the Fate that someone still cares about us,” Lanis continued with a satisfied smile. “It’s sad that help had to come from the outside, but the important thing is that everything turned out well. Even Noel says that from now on, things will only get better.”


Reng watched her, his gaze filled with both incomprehension and quiet resistance. Better for whom?


The door burst open with a loud bang. Noel stormed in, his face flushed red, his breath uneven with anger. Reng had never seen him this furious. That was never a good sign.


“She ran,” Noel growled instead of a greeting, dropping heavily into the chair across from Reng. His eyes burned with rage.


“Did you talk to her?” he snapped.


Reng shook his head. Curiosity gnawed at him, but he couldn’t bring himself to ask. Just one look at Noel’s expression told him everything he needed to know—the blame, once again, fell on her. Just like always.


“I should have locked her up,” Noel snarled, slamming his fist against the table. The sound reverberated through the house.


“Ela’s already gone?” Reng asked quietly. He already knew the answer.


Noel narrowed his eyes darkly, as if debating what to tell him

.

“There’s no ‘already,’” he said coldly. “I decided she wouldn’t be returning to Prim. She knew that. After everything you two have done, she should have stayed and faced the consequences. Helped you, so they wouldn’t drive you out. I believed she understood that.”


“I don’t care,” Reng said, surprisingly firm. “Let them drive me out.”


Noel’s face darkened with fury. “Don’t even think about it!”


A few days ago, Reng would have just lowered his head and accepted Noel’s decision as inevitable. But today, everything was different.


“I know about the request,” he said, his voice suddenly sharper. “The one you had rejected. And you never told me.”


Noel exhaled heavily and met his gaze. “Yes. I did that. And no, I don’t regret it. You belong here. In this house.”


Reng felt as if Noel’s words had trapped him. As if the walls of the house had grown even taller around him.


How could someone say with such certainty where his place was?


Did Noel not see that this was no longer his home—just the ruins of what they once had?


“Just like Ela and Ked?” he shot back mockingly. “Because I don’t see either of them here.”


Noel fell silent for a moment, his shoulders sinking slightly. Reng realized his words had hit their mark. For a fleeting second, he wondered if he had been too harsh. But then Noel straightened, quickly proving him wrong.


“You’re staying. I’ll find a way to secure conditions they’ll approve,” he said, his voice firm, final.


Reng clenched his fists but remained silent. Words piled up in his throat, sharp and painful, but he couldn’t force them out. Why was Noel so determined to keep him here? Why wouldn’t he ever let him decide for himself?


This wasn’t home anymore. It was a prison.


Noel turned to Lanis, who had been waiting with a stony expression and a plate in hand.


“No one can know he’s awake. I need time.”


Lanis merely shrugged indifferently, placed the plate in front of Noel, and said dryly, “As you wish. But in that case, you’d better keep him in bed. His wound is seeping again.”


Reng dropped his gaze, and to his own surprise, noticed a pinkish stain spreading on his bandages. He ran his fingers over the edge, feeling a dull pain beneath.


“If more stitches tear, I’ll have to sew it up again,” Lanis warned in a calm but icy tone.


“He’ll stay in bed,” Noel assured her seriously.


When Reng tried to stand, the world tilted. The pain in his side pulsed sharply, but the burn inside him was worse.


He swore to himself: Never again.


This was the last time he would let Noel make decisions about his life.


As he collapsed back onto the bed, exhaustion, pain, and fury washed over him.


Noel might think he could break him. That he could keep him here, bound by guilt.


But he was wrong.


***


For the next two days, he played the perfect patient, spending his time resting—mostly sleeping. But whenever the house was empty, he carefully got out of bed, forcing his body into movement, no matter how painful. Every step hurt, but he knew his time here was running out. He had to get back in shape, even if it meant pushing through his own weakness.


He kept expecting Noel to return to their conversation, to lay out whatever new plan he had in mind. And Reng already knew he wouldn’t like it.


But Noel managed to surpass even his worst expectations.


“You can’t be serious!” Reng’s voice, weak but razor-sharp, cut through the silence.


“On the contrary. I’ve never been more serious,” Noel replied calmly. He stood in the doorway, arms crossed over his chest, his expression as solid as stone. He had just laid out his plan—if it could even be called a plan.


“Tomorrow, I’ll inform the Council that you’ve recovered. And once Lanis removes your stitches, we’ll petition for you to be granted the status of the Subjugated.”


Reng fell silent. His lips moved, but no words came out.


At last, he managed to whisper, “You might as well kill me.”


Noel looked at him with composed superiority.


“You don’t like it? I understand. But I won’t just sit by while everyone points fingers at me. You took, so I return. Consider it punishment. I could have asked for worse, but I once cared for you like my own. This is my mercy.”


Reng took a deep breath. His thoughts flailed, his words tangled like a trapped scale-fish.


Mercy?


How dare he even say that?


How dare he act like a father when he was the one who had destroyed everything?


Reng clenched his teeth.


“That’s it?” he finally forced out.


“For now, yes.”


Noel turned to leave but then hesitated, as if something had just occurred to him.


“Actually, one more thing. Sirnak is going to the slaughterhouse. With your new status, you won’t be going up to the Hills anymore. And there’s no one in the oasis who would take him.”


Heat rushed through Reng’s body. He shot to his feet, only for the pain in his side to tear through him like fire. He staggered but barely registered it.


“You can’t! Sirnak has done nothing wrong!”


Noel turned back to him, his expression cold and unyielding.


“You should have thought of that sooner. Actions have consequences. It’s a harsh lesson, but I trust you’ll learn from it.”


Reng braced himself against the wall to keep from falling. Beads of sweat gathered on his forehead, and the pain in his side reminded him just how weak he still was.


Sirnak’s image flashed in his mind—strong, sensitive, tireless. His companion. His anchor.


And now Noel wanted to take him away.


Reng was left alone.


He collapsed back onto the bed, as if the weight of the world had pressed him down. His muscles trembled, his breathing was heavy, and tears burned at his eyes.


He tried to hold them back, but in the end, he let them fall.


But it wasn’t enough.


The sorrow, the helplessness—it didn’t wash away. It didn’t leave him empty.


It changed.


A fire long thought dead flickered back to life inside him.


All the suffering of these past days—the loss, the humiliation, the betrayal—it pointed to one undeniable truth.


He had no obligation to endure everything thrown at him.


He had no obligation to stay somewhere that only sought to bind him.


He couldn’t save Ela.


He couldn’t save this place.


But he could save himself.


And he would.