He's dead. The realization hit her like a brick. Her closest friend. Her lover. Grant was dead. Slaughtered by Cain, a once trusted ally. She would kill him the moment she saw him, slice him open and make him feel the pain she has, that Grant felt before he died. Now she was left to rot in this festering dungeon, surrounded by rats and all kinds of other unspeakable creatures. She thinks she’s been here for about two days now. It is hard to tell, without any sunlight she never knew whether it was day or night. The meal times were different every day, too. They were trying to confuse her, break her. 

She wouldn’t break though, not anymore. She would bide her time to escape, and when she did, all hell would break loose. The prison would become a slaughterhouse, showered with blood and she would be in the center of it, cutting down men like nothing. As she saw the guards walk past, all she could think about was how good it would feel to wrap her hands around their throat, how she could use the shackles binding her wrists and ankles to choke the life out of them. 

Footsteps echoed through the hallway outside of her cell, the guards stopping in front of it. Heavily armed with swords and crossbows, they stood tall with their red and gold uniforms on. The uniforms of Melisande, one of the many kingdoms who wanted her head on a stick. 

Five guards entered the cell, yanking her to her feet. They marched her out of the cell through the hallways. She studied the guards as they walked, trying to find a weakness to exploit. They weren’t taking any chances though, and with ten of them surrounding her she couldn’t do much. She could just get a guard to run her through with their blade, end her now. But there was too much to do, too many debts to pay. She had to get revenge for Grant, for what they did to him. They took her to a prison wagon and roughly dumped her on the floor. Not even giving her enough time to stand the door clanged shut, the sound of the lock echoing around the room. 

She would find a way to escape. She had to. She knew where they were taking her just by the look of the prison wagon she was in, and she wouldn’t go back there. Never again. She’d studied the locks on this wagon the last time she was in it, and knew it would be impossible to unlock from the inside, so she’d either have to trick the guards into opening it or wait until they arrived at their destination. She figured it would be easiest to wait, but the added guards when they arrived would be a slight problem. As long as she got her hands on a weapon she would be fine. She just needs a weapon. 

The cart finally began to slow down and she craned her neck to see what was happening. It had been days since they’d thrown her in here, only shoving just enough food through the window to keep her on this side of life. As she saw the building looming in the distance, she froze. Callaculla. One of two labor camps in Melisande, saved for only the worst of criminals

She was in the middle of the courtyard, tied to the posts as the overseer whipped her. She heard the crack of the whip and braced herself. I am Manon Einar, and I will not be afraid. At this point the only thing keeping her from shattering completely in these godforsaken mines was chanting this to herself. I am Manon Einar, and I will not be afraid. The whip came down, shredding her back again and again. She had tried to escape, even though it was futile. Each guard here could shoot a mouse from a hundred yards away. She had waited weeks planning her escape and had come so close. 

She had used her pickaxe to gut the guards nearest her and had started sprinting for the wall. Dozens of guards had tried to stop her, and she had butchered all of them. She had come within inches of the outside wall before they had knocked her out. The guards on the walls hadn’t shot at her though, instructed to keep her alive for as long as possible, to pay for her crimes. 

She didn’t want to go back there, she had barely survived last time, and only because Grant got her out. But he was gone now. There was no one to help her, so she would have to escape herself.

Manon slowly stood up as she heard the guards near. She listened for the click of the lock opening and slammed herself into the door, knocking down the guard outside. She swiftly leaped out of the wagon and kicked the nearest guard in his gut, knocking the wind out of him. 

As he was struggling to breath she swipes his blade and turns on the rest of the guards who were quickly approaching. She assessed them, noting their strengths and weaknesses. 

She blocked the first blow sent to her by a guard and lunged, slicing his throat wide open. She slid, retrieving his blade and launching herself at the next guard, teeth bared. She swings her sword through his stomach and sends him tumbling to the ground as he lets out a bloodcurdling scream. 

She looked up at the guards surrounding her, closing in on all sides. She shoots them a wicked grin. This would be fun. Before they even had time to react she was upon them, her blades an extension of her limbs cutting them down. 

As she goes to cut down another guard she hears the whistle of an arrow flying, twisting herself out of the way. She couldn’t move fast enough as the arrow embedded itself in her right thigh. She grunted in pain, but kept going. She had to, she had no other choice. She refused to go back to Callaculla. 

Manon ripped the arrow from her thigh, wincing from the pain. Sprinting straight at the guard holding the crossbow, she spilled his guts out on the floor and in his shock he could not load another bolt before he was dead. 

She whirled around and unleashed herself on the remaining guards, dipping and ducking while they swung at her. As she went in to deal a deathblow to one of the three remaining guards, another snuck up behind her and stabbed her through her side. She swore. That would hurt like hell later. She had to end this fight quickly before more guards arrived, otherwise they would be too much for her with her wounds.

Manon lunged for the next guard, aiming for his throat but she was too slow, her injuries slowing her down. He blocked her sword with his, and quickly lunged, clipping her left shoulder with his sword. 

The other guards converged on her. There were still six of them left. One of the guards charged at her, the others following suit. She swung her sword, showering herself in his blood. Five left. She blocked then lunged, cutting one of their heads clean off their shoulders. Four left. She roared as another guard sliced her calf open. 

She blocked another sword. Fueled by adrenaline she leaped over a corpse to bolt for the trees. The guards sprinted after her and she grabbed onto a tree, swinging herself around. Swords out, she slits the throat of another guard. She hurtled through the forest, not slowing, tiring the guards behind her. 

Just as she cleared the trees she whipped around, impaling the nearest guard on her sword. She ripped the blade out of his chest. He slumped to the ground, dead. Only two guards were left now, she could do this. 

The remaining two guards dashed towards her, but she had the advantage now. She charged at them, stabbing one through the throat and cutting the back of the other’s ankles, immobilizing him. She brings her sword down, ending his life. 

She smiled. A wicked, evil grin. She walked around, a slight limp from the arrow that embedded itself in her thigh. She picked up weapons from the deceased guards. A crossbow, sword, some throwing knives. 

She turned to the labor camp one last time before she left, vowing to return and free the slaves there. She walked away from the camp reveling in the feeling of freedom. She knew what she would do next. She would return to Melisande, avenge Grant, free the slaves of Callaculla then flee the country, living out her days in some far away land that has never even heard her name.