Role

Chapter 3

Sazven worked with three other slaves most often. Two were giants, and one
was a dwarf. They were good people, even in their torment: and did not
begrudge having to put in that bit extra work due to the young saurians
lack of physical prowess. It did mean though that when one of the giant's
fell ill, he was already more exhausted than normal.

He was made to work through it, and he died.

That first time, Sazven was devastated, even in the numbness of the
existence that was the mines. He had been her favourite of the three, and
she knew that at least in part she had contributed to his end.

But it also felt right.

Sazven had never in fact witnessed a death up close. Slaves died all the
time, but it was somewhat abstract. This was anything but: and when she
reached out and took his Weh for herself, Sazven felt strong. Stronger than
she had ever felt before. Strong enough to survive the mines. Strong enough
to survive the numbness.

And strong enough to maybe see the outside again, to make that long dulled
memory a reality.

Except come the next waking, the strength was as dead and gone as her maybe
friend: and Sazven was weak again.

She made a silent vow there, in the darkness as the Overseer's lash came
down: she would have it again.

And she knew just how to do it.