His body curled inward, instinctively trying to protect itself, but there was nowhere to hide from the pain.


    Boots slammed into his stomach, his chest, and his back.


    Something inside him cracked.


    He coughed, spitting blood onto the snow.


    For a moment, his vision blurred, and all he could hear was his heartbeat—slow, sluggish, fading.


    “Enough.”


    The commander’s voice cut through the night.


    Lucian lay motionless, his limbs numb, his breaths shallow.


    “We still have time before the attack… so let’s play.”


    The commander smirked, stepping forward. “Give him a sword.”


    A soldier threw a blade onto the dirt beside Lucian.


    It was massive. The weight alone was enough to crush his exhausted body.


    Lucian barely had the strength to lift his head, let alone fight.


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    “Listen well, little rat.” The commander knelt beside him, his breath hot against Lucian’s ear. “If you can beat one of my men, I’ll let you go.”


    Laughter.


    Mocking.


    Lucian’s fingers curled into the dirt.


    He knew.


    He knew this was a game to them.


    A cruel, twisted amusement.


    He would never leave this forest alive.


    But—


    He had to try.


    His body screamed in protest as he reached for the sword. His arms shook violently. It was too heavy, but he forced himself to stand.


    A soldier stepped forward, grinning.


    “You get the first strike.”


    Lucian tightened his grip on the hilt.


    His legs wobbled. His head spun.


    But he swung.


    And missed.


    Laughter erupted again.


    Lucian tried again.


    And missed.


    He tried again.


    And again.


    Each time, he failed. Each time, they laughed louder.


    Then, the soldier moved.


    A flash of silver.


    Lucian felt the first slash before he saw it.


    A deep, searing pain in his abdomen.


    The next cut came to his leg.


    Then his arm.


    Blood dripped onto the snow.


    He was being toyed with.


    His body was shutting down.


    He staggered, his knees almost buckling. His vision darkened at the edges.


    His breathing was ragged.


    Still—he fought to stay standing.


    But in the end—


    He fell.


    Lucian’s body hit the ground.


    He heard laughter, distant and cruel.


    "So this is how it ends?"


    His heartbeat was slowing.


    The snow beneath him felt softer now.


    Colder.


    His mind drifted.


    "Kane and Joe must have reached the camp by now…"


    "The commander must know about the attack..."


    "At least… they will be safe."


    "I wish I could’ve… said goodbye to Chloe."


    His body refused to move.


    His vision blurred completely.


    For a brief moment, in the blackness of his fading consciousness, he thought of his mother.


    Would she mourn him?


    Or would she turn away… like she always had?


    Lucian’s heart gave one last slow beat.


    Then—nothing.


    "Hey."