Kallen woke up to searing pain coursing through his body, every muscle aching, his skin slick with sweat.
The air was stifling—scorchingly hot. Shadows danced unnaturally across the dark room, flickering in rhythm with the blazing furnace embedded in the wall.
The sharp clanging of metal against metal filled his ears, echoing endlessly.
He groggily turned his head, taking in his surroundings. Young orcs—some not much older than himself—were busy at work, crafting, hammering, sharpening.
But their eyes weren't focused on their tasks.
They were watching him.
Some with open hostility. Others with quiet apprehension. A few… with fear.
Kallen took in his surroundings with a tired sigh and stood up, brushing his soot-covered rags for clothes.
The fabric clung to his sweat-drenched skin like tarred mud. The effort was pointless—his skin was just as blackened with soot as his clothes.
