Chapter Text
Imperial Year 1176
A hollow concrete cube. No windows, no bed, no chair. Just a barred, metal door too heavy for a small kid to open, assuming they had access to the doorknob, to begin with.
Of course, they didn't.
It was impossible to open the door from the inside. Only the armor-clad guards outside were capable of unlocking the metal bars, twice every week. But no one looked forward to those days. It only spelled doom for someone, if not themselves. The light never reached the darkest parts of the facility, and the children dared not reach their hands towards it.
She hated the cold, dark room. She had spent more than ten years of her life in this barren place if the scratches on the wall were any indication of proper time-keeping or sanity.
In the summer, the fresher air was a relief, helping to alleviate the stench of festering sewage and dried out blood, but with how cold Fodlan usually was, those days didn't last long at all. Whenever the guards opened the heavy doors to the prison cells during the cold seasons, it let in a wicked draft and reduced the temperature to near freezing. All year long, it was either suffocatingly quiet or pierced with the screams of tortured children.
The place was nothing short of hell and Satiana prayed to the Goddess above, night after night, that someday, she would finally be free of all suffering.
Today was that day.
As the heavy, metal doors swung open, hollowly hitting the cobbled wall by its side, plumes of dust swung up from the corners of her cage, bathed in slivers of red, torchlight. It reminded her of the specks of blood littered across the floor of the place — dried, left-over relics of the children who used to roam down the same hallways as she did.
"Get out," a voice barked from beyond the door.
Satiana stood up from her position huddled up in the corner furthest away from the door. The chains bounded to her ankles sent metallic clinks echoing through the room and the guard clicked this tongue once.
"Fuck, I forgot they keep these kids chained. Hey you, go get the goddamn keys!" The guard yelled to his subordinate somewhere down the hallway. Judging by the thundering steps, the poor soldier was scrambling to their guard post, probably searching for the correctly-numbered key.
It didn't take them long to return. Soon enough, her legs were chain-free and she lightly bounced on her feet, adjusting herself to the feeling of being free to move again. Unfortunately, the guard didn't seem to like that small show of giddiness because the next thing she knew, she was being hauled across the room by the neck. His large, calloused hands gripped her jaw, yanking it up into the air. Her legs dangled haphazardly as she gasped for air. She scratched at the man's death grip on her neck, breath hitching, tears spilling from the corners of her eyes.
"Stay still, you damn brat!"
A quick blow to the face and her head snapped sideways in pain. She gritted her teeth, feeling the blood trickling down her pale, bony cheeks.
Endure it. Today's the last day. It'll be over soon.
She forced her body to slacken. Hanging limply in the air, she allowed herself to be carried all the way to the experimenting room. Halfway through the long walk, she almost lost consciousness from lack of oxygen but was harshly woken up from her stupor when the man threw her on top of a metal cot. Her back collided with the freezing cold bed, sending waves of shudders down her spine as a group of familiar mages stormed inside the room.
They were all dressed the same way: clad in black cloaks, bird-like masks, and blood-covered gloves.
She mentally prepared herself, knowing what was about to happen next. Breathing heavily, she felt herself being shackled to the operating table. Their hands slithered across her body, nudging her skin apart, checking her body condition: pulse, remaining scars, open wounds.
She didn't really know why they even bothered to inspect her every time. It wasn't as if they were going to stop, even if her body was already crossing that borderline between life and death.
The sound of rusty cogs snapping into place entered her ears and she felt the metal slab she was lying on raising up. The mages swarmed over her, holding various foreign tools in their hands. She recognized the scalpel and blades.
They never give up, do they?
Ten years on the table and they still refused to learn from their past mistakes. She was a failure — crestless, yet miraculously alive. How she managed to survive through years of torture, the mages had no idea. Even she herself wasn't sure why she was still breathing while the rest of her friends died.
They weren't really friends. They just lived on the same street as fellow orphans. But even starving, hopeless children knew what camaraderie meant.
One of the masked mages handed their partner a giant barrel. The red liquid sloshed inside the container, sending blood-chilling shivers through her already weakened body. Her fingers twitched and she balled her hands tightly into fists.
Endure. Endure. ENDURE.
With a quick snap of his fingers, the devices inside the room flickered to life like magic. "Today is the day we succeed," the robed figure cackled as he fiddled with a glowing, red stone in his hands.
She wanted nothing more than to slam her feet into the infuriating, masked face and yell in his ears that only an idiot would perform the same experiment for ten years and still believe they would get better results.
But none of these bastards ever listened to reason. Hell, they never listened to anything the children had to say.
From the corner of her eyes, she spotted the familiar row of test tubes. One was empty, the other filled with the contents of the barrel. The last contained a scrap of the glowing stone. Each tube was connected to a syringe-like instrument. The pale white strings wrapped themselves around her like a cobweb, preventing her from even shifting on the table. The mages then began to plunge the needles into her body: shoulder, arms, legs.
She shut her eyes tightly.
Dear Goddess, please save me.
The mages flipped the switch and she gasped loudly as she felt her blood being drained out of her, filling the empty tube. The contents of the other red tube swiftly began to flow inside of her. The fluid burned with cold as it ran through her body, sending her into a spiraling agony as she spasmed against the restraints that kept her pinned to the table.
She nearly bit her tongue in two, but she never cried out despite the pain. No tears escaped her eyes — she had long grown accustomed to the initial pain. This was still only the tip of the iceberg. The true trial would come next and that was where she needed to focus all her energy to.
Her body continued to convulse against the piercing pain, shattering her from the inside. Another quick stab into her abdomen with the scalpel and this time, she howled. The knife traced her stomach, splitting it open before a pair of dirty hands plunged the rest of the stone into her body.
She arched against the metal table, screaming until her throat throbbed, eyes bulging wide.
Fuck them all. Fucking hell. FUCK.
She repeated the curses in her head like a mantra, barely remaining conscious throughout the entire experiment. Her screams blended in with the sound of roaring and growling in the distance, meshing in with the thundering steps of monsters lying dormant deeper inside the underground dungeon.
But again, she refused to join the ranks of the dead. Perhaps it was a blessing from the Goddess that allowed her to remain sane throughout the years of torture. But sometimes, she thought to herself the Goddess truly was wicked and cruel.
Even turning into a beast would be salvation at this point in her life. To live as a beast or as a walking corpse, which was the better of the two?
Before she could come up with an answer, another surge of pain knocked the air out of her.
The day flew by defined by the fluctuating pain, exhaustion, and training. Again, she had survived. Still alive and still crest-less as usual.
After the mages threw her out the doors for being a failure, she found herself wandering to the cattle hall where her last assignment would be given. The cattle hall was a name the children gave to the colosseum built underground in the facility. It was a giant open space with bounded walls, littered with wooden dummies and all sorts of rusty weapons. Aside from her prison cell and the experimenting room, this was where the children spent most of their time, training against each other.
As soon as she took a step through the tunnel leading to the training grounds, a sharp piercing screech made her visibly flinch. She peered into the clearing, frowning as a teenage boy repeatedly slammed the sharp end of his sword into the body of another younger boy. A dark sinister laugh spilled from his lips, eyes empty and hollow. He plunged the sword deeper into the corpse, twisting and hacking through the bones.
She turned her eyes away from the scene and strolled casually inside the training hall, lingering near the walls. As expected, a few guards came rushing towards the two males, dragging them back to the experiment room.
She paid no heed to the commotion. They were living in a madhouse. Such insanity happened on a daily basis.
Then again, perhaps she was the insane one for viewing such tragedy as normalcy.
The other remaining students in the cattle hall tried their best to avoid her gaze as she dragged her feet to the center of the training ground, a trail of blood pouring after her. The mages didn't even bother to properly stitch her wounds up. There was still a giant, gaping hole in her stomach but somehow, she was still up and walking about.
A monster, she'd hear them whisper amongst themselves. She ignored them because indeed, they were speaking nothing short of the truth. She may still be in human form, but at this rate, she was no different than those children-turned-monsters locked in cages at the lowest level of the facility. There was no human who could still live after losing so much blood and, in all honesty, brain cells from the mental and emotional abuse.
But she survived this far on nothing but sheer will and bitterness towards the mages who kidnapped her to this disgusting place. If she wasn't a monster, then what was she? Certainly not a normal child.
"Hey, Satiana!"
She turned her head to the side, watching as a small girl stumbled over towards her. She recognized the blonde hair and emerald green orbs from afar. The girl called herself Gisela and she was one of the few survivors from the same batch of children as Satiana. Satiana could count on her fingers how many of the orphans she once lived on the streets with were still alive.
It wasn't a pretty number.
"Hello, Gisela. Are the commanders here yet?" Satiana coughed once mid-speech, voice still raspy and hoarse.
Gisela eyed her with sympathy, emerald irises gleaming red at the edges from the torches strapped on the wall against them. "They're already here. You're the last one to make it."
Satiana glanced towards the center of the hall. Indeed, a large group of children of various ages was huddled together in rows, each wearing their armored uniform with weapons in hand. Satiana exhaled lightly, dragging her feet to the weapon rack before she searched for a pair of swords. She grabbed them by the hilt and carried them back to Gisela. "Then we should get going."
Gisela nodded. They walked side by side towards the center of the room. Gisela glanced at the trail of blood behind them and winced. "Satiana, are you sure you're ready to fight? The amount of blood is quite…troubling."
Satiana sent her a blank stare over her shoulder. "Do I look like I have any other choice?"
Gisela grunted, head drooping. "You're right. We don't."
It didn't take long for the commander to catch wind of their trail. The knight-clad in clean, pristine silver stormed up towards the two of them. Underneath his helmet, dark eyes glared daggers at them from between the open slits. "You two are late. Hurry up and get in line. We don't have time," he barked out, jutting his chin to the side.
"Yes sir," they chorused with a small bow.
Gisela grabbed Satiana's hand and dragged her to the front of the group. They pushed through a few other children, ignoring the looks of contempt and envy along the way. Satiana didn't like the attention on her, but even she could not escape from the fame that came with surviving ten, grueling years of torture. She couldn't understand why they were jealous of her accomplishments. What was the point of living, anyway?
"As you already know, today is your last day here," the commander yelled. He paced back and forth down the line of filthy, ragged children, dressed in half-ripped armor much larger than their size. "Make yourself useful and I assure you, I'll tell our master of your achievements. If you're lucky, you might even get adopted into one of the noble households in Fodlan."
A wave of murmurs rushed through the group, most of the kids divulging in their fantasies, dreaming about a life of riches and luxury. Satiana stared emptily at the commander, focusing on standing straight as she felt her open wound throb against the cold, rusty air. Gisela fidgeted with her swords, eyes sparkling bright.
"The plan is simple. Follow our lead and kill everyone in sight. Don't ask, don't think, just do it," the commander continued. "Today's target is this man." He motioned for his subordinate to step forward.
Another shorter knight stepped up to the front of the group and unfolded a large piece of paper with the portrait of a man. It was hard to describe the man with a few words or two, but if Satiana had to pick out something to remember him by, it would be the piercing blue eyes and majestic, regal aura surrounding him.
The commander held his sword up into the air, then proceeded to thrust it right into the middle of the portrait. He slashed the paper into two, slicing the head cleanly off the man's shoulders. "If any of you manages to kill this man, you all will receive freedom. You may leave this place scot-free."
A loud, harmonious cheer broke the tension in the atmosphere and the group descended into a raucous fray of chattering. Gisela launched herself at Satiana, hugging her tightly, small streaks of tears flowing down her rosy, pink cheeks. "S-Satiana, we made it this far. After this, we can finally escape!" she yelled, elated.
Satiana responded by absentmindedly rubbing her friend's back, though she remained stern as usual. "I guess so," she answered quietly.
She didn't have the heart to tell her friend that they were all probably under a heavy misunderstanding. There was no such thing as freedom; ten years in this place and she knew better than anyone there was no way they were all getting out of this facility alive.
It's a trap, but one we can only dive into.
"Grab your weapons and follow our lead. For freedom!" The commander yelled, pumping his fists into the air as the rest of the kids followed suit.
To where, they had no idea. But all they had to do was follow their leader. It was easy enough. Kill the target, get freedom.
Satiana clenched her sword tightly in her hands. Regardless of what plans the higher-ups had for them and their group, she would make a run for it. There was a large enough crowd today for her to do so without being caught by the commanders.
Whatever scheme the dark mages had in mind, she would make it through till the end again. Because that was all she knew how to do: kill and survive.
Satiana thought today would be a day like any other. Another small mission, another random noble to assassinate, more orders to follow. At least, that was how things should've gone.
She should've known something was wrong when the mages promised her freedom afterward. She should've been more prudent, perhaps making a run for it the moment they walked out of the facility instead of waiting for the chaos to ensue. She should've realized it as soon as she saw the sheer amount of children soldiers for today's mission, not to mention the horde of crest beasts being dragged by chains.
Those bastards finally did it. Threw the kids into hellfire. After training them to yearn for nothing but freedom like mindless puppets, this was what they got in return.
A large-scale war that no one was prepared for.
Although she had participated in countless excursions, war was never one of them. Especially one that involved a whole goddamn Kingdom, judging by the blue flag the enemies waved proudly in the air.
What…the hell is this?
The sky was casket-black and brooding. Even the clouds seemed morose as they shed tears down towards the shattered earth, hoping to distinguish the raging flames of war threatening to devour the land beneath them but to no avail.
There was no stopping the brutal slaughter of men, women, and children alike. A storm of arrows zipped and hissed through the air, clashing against upraised shields if one was lucky enough. Monsters swarmed and swayed across the burning plains amidst the haunting screams of terror, staining the ground with molten-red pools of blood.
What…am I doing here?
A violent rush of air brushed against her cheeks, toppling the head of the boy who stood beside her alive and well a mere fraction of a moment ago. There was no time to stop and mourn over the loss of a comrade as her gelid hands grabbed the hilt of the sword and swung up, clashing against skin, scraping against the bones as the enemy screamed in pain before crashing down to the ground, motionless.
There was a persistent acidic burning in her stomach. Satiana could hear the thumping in her ears as she spun around on her heels and sprinted across the battlefield. The spears and swords glimmered cruelly in the dark as she weaved her way through the fray of clattering, algid steel.
From the corner of her eye, she could see her commander raising his sword proudly in defiance as he chopped off the head of an enemy commander. But there was no glory to be earned. No cheers of happiness or tears from the remaining soldiers, unlike how they acted before in the cattle hall.
There was only more blood to be shed, for everyone on her side finally realized they were nothing more than throw-away pawns trained to kill and die.
She felt it instinctively.
Today was the day she was going to die. And of all places, it wasn't going to be inside the dark dungeons underground. It was going to be here in the middle of nowhere. She was going to crumble to dust among the river of crimson red that flowed down the crying plains of Duscur.
"Satiana!" There was a voice she barely recognized as a bloodied, armored girl lunged towards her, grabbing her arms. Satiana still remembered vividly the last time she talked to Gisela when her emerald-green eyes shone brightly like jewels as she happily chatted about her dreams beyond their prison cells. They were filled with hope and brimming with light, but those orbs had become sullied with trauma, tears, and terror. "T-They released the monsters. The failures! We need to get out of here!" The thundering footsteps silenced her panicked shout as a horde of beasts bolted across the valley, crushing the soldiers under their claws.
Satiana cursed under her breath and grabbed the girl's hand, dragging her along as she bolted away from the battlefield. "We're leaving. Now!"
Gisela stared at her in bewilderment. "L-leave? To where?!"
"I don't know! Anywhere that isn't here—"
She soared through the sky as a monstrous, jagged tail swept underneath her feet. Her legs felt as if a thousand knives were piercing them, and before she knew it, her body crashed limply against the ground. Ribs cracked, legs shattered, her head was ringing non-stop as the screams of war blended in with the flickering flames in the background. She lay on the ground, clutching her head. As she whimpered in pain, her legs jerked in awkward angles. She tried to push herself up but to no avail.
Fuck...! I need to get out of here!
Satiana sat herself up, blinking away the remnants of fog that clouded her vision. She took a sharp intake of breath. Her gaze landed on the ground in front of her.
She swallowed loudly, heart palpitating. "G-Gisela…?
The emerald-green eyes had turned dark-black like polished coal, staring emptily back at her. The lifeless body had detached itself from its lower counterpart from the torso up. Blood gushed out of the gaping wound like a waterfall as the stampede of beasts utterly mangled the corpse.
A wave of nausea rushed over her. Satiana gasped, her back lurching forward as she tried to contain the bile within her.
N-No…not now…
The numbing pain across her body still threatened to steal her consciousness, but that was nothing short of a death sentence. With a loud groan, she tried to scramble onto her feet, feeling her bones creaking. But gravity took hold, and she landed face forward onto the ground with her hands in front of her, nails clawing against the dirt in frustration. Gritting her teeth, she lifted herself up on her knees and pounded her fists on her ankles, feeling the searing hot pain.
Goddammit…move…MOVE!
There was the sound of grass rustling from behind her, and on pure instinct, she grabbed the remaining sword on her hips and plunged it deep into the enemy's chest. Twisting the hilt with no hesitation, a fountain of blood spurted out from his open wound as he crumbled to the ground next to her. His sword clattered to the ground, and Satiana immediately lunged toward it. With two swords in hand, she stabbed them onto the bleeding soil below, stumbling on her feet as she slowly inched forward while using them as placeholders for her legs to lean on.
There was no destination — no place to return or escape to. But even a young girl who was trained since birth to be nothing but a tool of war knew that she had to go somewhere. Anywhere. Wherever she could, even though there was no reason for her to continue struggling.
The situation was helpless. It was only a matter of time before the remaining Kingdom forces rushed in to salvage the remaining lives littered across the burning valley. That was the same as sending the rest of her comrades to the guillotines. There was no reason for her to fear death, for it was instilled in her head since young that sometimes, sacrifices were necessary. So many of her so-called 'friends' had left her stranded in the living, and the war was nothing new to someone who swam through blood every day to survive. Death was always looming over her, and she was more than happy to leave this cruel and empty world behind. After all, there was nothing she had to lose. Not even herself because she had lost that many years ago inside the underground dungeons where she spent most of her life wailing in pain.
So why…am I still…fighting to live…?
She limped a few miles away from the battlefield before a barren forest came into view. The physical and mental fatigue finally caught up to her as she tumbled forward, her legs giving way. The two dull and bloodied swords landed with a thud against the grassy ground. Her face dug into the dirt, a wave of freezing coldness rushing over her lifeless body. The soothing sound of raindrops plopping against her back drowned out the images of the war she left behind, and she slowly closed her eyes, succumbing to the darkness.
Is this how it ends?
"Is she…dead?"
A clear voice echoed down the grassy fields, the sound silky and softer than the turbulent rainstorm surrounding her. Her vision blurred as she slowly opened her eyes, examining the pair of strangers standing in front of her. They were both wearing hooded cloaks, hiding their form from view, but there was no camouflaging the noticeable height difference between the two; a man who looked around the age of 30 and a young girl accompanying him. It didn't matter who they were. The only thing that caught Satiana's attention was the black, heavy cloak they were wearing.
It reminded her of the same group of ghostly, pale men that strolled down the cells, leering through the iron bars with predatory eyes. With a flick of their fingers, children were forcefully dragged out of their cells and thrown into the experiment room.
No…not again…!
Clenching her jaws, a surge of adrenaline fueled by ragged desperation and sheer stubbornness moved her hands towards the sword next to her. The man kneeling in front of her froze, shifting his stance backward as the blade cut through the air mere inches away from his face. Satiana moaned in pain, hands quivering as the sword once again dropped down to the muddy ground.
The pair of strangers watched in silence as her hands slowly inched towards the blade again. A pair of warm, gloved hands grasped her trembling ones and yanked her forward on her knees. She jolted in surprise and fear, trying to jerk her hands back, but the stranger did not relent his iron grip on her frail wrists. Satiana growled in anger, lashing her other free hand towards the stranger, slapping his hand away from hers.
"We have quite the fiery one," the cloaked man scowled. He stood up, brushing the dirt off his knees. Then, peering down at her disfigured form with a blank stare, he sighed. "Hey, you. Take her back to the village, will you?" He cocked his head towards his companion, who simply nodded in response.
"What…do you want from me…?" Satiana croaked out, her voice hoarse and broken as the young girl knelt down next to her, gathering her swords.
The man shrugged nonchalantly. "Well, that's entirely up to you, miss. What do you want from us?"
"...Just kill me," Satiana said without hesitation.
That was all that she ever wished for at this moment — for the pain and suffering to end. She could still feel it, the same burning in her chest that wouldn't die out. It clawed into her heart as the blazing fire spread throughout her entire body. The endless hatred and resentment burned relentlessly with nowhere to escape to.
She knew for a fact this world was hell. She had witnessed it, lived it, even caused it. Life was utterly unfair; she never wanted to be like this. To harbor such intense rage when her captors forced these emotions upon her. All she wanted to do was make it all stop.
"Please. Just end it," Satiana's voice trembled, her head hanging low, casting a shadow over her drained features. "Please," she repeated once more softly.
The man gave a wry bark of laughter. He jerked his head towards the girl who suddenly threw the sword at him. With swift, nimble hands, he easily grabbed the hilt. The sword dropped down to the ground in front of her for the umpteenth time that evening. He knelt down again, lifting her face up with his fingers on her chin.
"Then do it yourself. End it with your own hands." His voice was like the devil, enticing a poor soul to grab its bony hands for salvation. Her eyes flickered down towards the blade. She shuddered uncontrollably as her hand reached for the sword. The blade suddenly felt heavy in her hands, even though she was well accustomed to it.
"I…I can't," she quietly confessed, her hands quivering.
"And why is that? Didn't you want this?" His commanding voice thundered in her ears.
She slowly shook her head. "No…I just…" Her voice wavered as she spoke. She sounded strangely strangled, as if something was lurking in her voice box that she didn't dare set free. The man waited patiently, feeling that there was more to come, and met her shaky gaze calmly.
"You just what?" He tried to coax it out of her.
I just want it all to stop...right?
She never wanted to kill. Or hate. Or live in hell. But because of the numerous years of torturing behind her back, she had learned to forget one simple fact that all humans knew deep in their hearts no matter how much they tried to hide it.
Death, no matter how natural, was always an unacceptable thing.
"I don't want to die." The words came flying rapidly out of her mouth. Her eyes widened, her heart sinking in heavy realization. She grew aware of the stinging sensation crawling up in her eyes as the dam shattered into a million irreparable pieces. Her throat clenched as a sob came rushing up. She choked on thin air. "I…I want to live…!"
Because she was too scared to live but too afraid to die like all humans were.
Satiana suddenly took on a pale look, the sobs coming to a rapid end as the air was knocked out of her. Then, with one forlorn look back towards the direction she came from, she crumpled like a puppet released from their strings.
Her vision went black.