Broken But Breathing
Fred didn't sleep.
Not because he wasn't allowed.
But because every time he closed his eyes, he saw Lira.
Her eyes dimming.
Her fingers slipping from his.
The pain didn't fade.
It sharpened.
It hollowed him out.
Turned him into something that barely resembled the boy who had once dreamed of escaping the Hollow.
Now, escape wasn't enough.
He would bury it.
He would erase every brick, every bloodstained stone.
He would make the Hollow a memory so cursed that even nightmares would flinch from it.
But first, he had to survive.
---
The Breakers did not train like soldiers.
They trained like wolves.
Savage.
Efficient.
Unforgiving.
The burned woman — whose name was revealed to be Ravyn — took Fred under her broken wing.
Each night, after the arena lights dimmed and the Overseers grew lazy with drink, the Breakers gathered in the sunken training halls beneath the Hollow.
Ravyn barked lessons at Fred until his muscles screamed.
> "You're soft," she snapped, watching him struggle with a rusted blade.
> "Pain is a privilege here."
> "Every scar you earn is a key."
> "Every breath you steal back from death is another nail in the Hollow's coffin."
Fred listened.
And bled.
And learned.
They taught him how to move without sound.
How to hide a weapon where even the cruelest guards wouldn't find it.
How to snap a neck with a twist and make it look like an accident.
How to blend in.
How to betray without hesitation.
---
Above them, Kael — the Hollow's Captain — grew restless.
Whispers of disobedience reached his ears.
Missing weapons.
Unauthorized gatherings.
Recruits disappearing without explanation.
Kael was no fool.
He had risen to his position not through strength alone, but through ruthlessness sharpened by paranoia.
Now that paranoia was a blade pressed against the throat of every recruit.
Including Fred.
Kael summoned his lieutenants late one night.
His chambers were a den of smoke and iron, walls lined with cruel instruments designed to break body and mind.
He stood at the center, clad in black leather armor, eyes glittering with rage.
> "There's rot in my Hollow," Kael said, voice low and lethal.
> "Find it."
> "Cut it out."
> "Burn it alive."
No one dared to speak.
Kael smiled — a smile colder than any winter.
> "Start with the ones who don't cry when they're whipped."
> "The ones who don't look broken enough."
> "They always break the wrong way."
The trap was set.
The hunt had begun.
And Fred didn't even know he was already in the jaws of the beast.
---
It started with random inspections.
Guards tearing through dormitories in the dead of night.
Searching bunks.
Ripping up floorboards.
Beating those who looked the wrong way at them.
Fred kept his head down.
Played the part of the battered, broken boy.
But inside, he counted.
Every guard.
Every exit.
Every crack in the Hollow's armor.
Ravyn's voice echoed in his mind:
> "The Hollow's greatest weakness isn't its cruelty."
> "It's its pride."
> "They think they own us."
> "They think pain will keep us obedient."
> "Use their blindness."
> "Bury the knife where they least expect it."
---
One night, after a brutal mock battle in the arena, Fred returned to his bunk to find something strange.
A tiny slip of paper hidden beneath his blanket.
No name.
No signature.
Only six words, written in a spidery hand:
> "The river beneath runs red tonight."
Fred's pulse quickened.
It was the signal.
The Breakers were moving.
Tonight.
Plans were in motion he hadn't even known about.
Fred tucked the paper into his boot and pretended to sleep.
Hours passed.
The Hollow's bell tolled midnight.
And then—
A scream.
Followed by another.
Guards shouting.
Steel clashing.
The Hollow was bleeding from within.
---
Fred slipped from his bed.
Moved with the others, acting confused, afraid.
He saw fires burning in the east wing.
He saw Overseers dragging screaming recruits into the courtyard.
Kael's men were executing "traitors."
Or suspected traitors.
One recruit, a boy Fred vaguely knew — Merek — was dragged forward.
Kael himself stood before him, whip in hand.
> "Confess," Kael said, voice smooth.
> "Or drown in your own blood."
Merek spat at him.
A foolish move.
Kael smiled.
And drove a dagger into the boy's throat.
Slowly.
Cruelly.
Fred didn't move.
Didn't flinch.
Didn't let even a flicker of rage cross his face.
Inside, though, something cracked.
Merek had been innocent.
Just another pawn caught in the crossfire.
Fred realized something terrible.
The Breakers didn't care who died.
As long as the Hollow suffered.
And Kael didn't care who he killed.
As long as fear spread.
Fred was trapped between two monsters.
And if he wasn't careful, he would be swallowed by both.
---
When the fires died down and the bodies were carted away like trash, Fred sat alone in the ruins of the courtyard.
The moon hung low and red in the sky, as if mourning.
Fred clenched his fists.
He couldn't trust the Breakers.
He couldn't trust Kael.
He could only trust himself.
If he was going to destroy the Hollow...
He would have to do it his way.
Silently.
Patiently.
Brutally.
Fred rose to his feet.
His shadow stretched long across the blood-soaked stones.
And for the first time since Lira's death, he smiled.
It was not a kind smile.
It was the smile of a storm waiting to break.
--