Forced March

**Shaira's POV**

My legs trembled with every step, and the pain in my injured leg grew more intense as we pressed on. The rope digging into my wrists chafed my raw skin, but there was no reprieve. One of Omawit’s men shoved me to keep moving, and I stumbled, nearly falling to the ground. I bit my lip to stop a cry of pain from escaping.

The jungle seemed to grow more unforgiving with every meter we covered. The roots jutted out of the ground, making it even harder to walk, and the humid air felt heavy in my lungs. The sun barely filtered through the thick canopy of leaves, plunging us into an almost oppressive twilight.

Omawit led the way, marching ahead with steady and confident strides. From time to time, he would stop and glance back at me with a cruel smile on his lips. He seemed to relish every second of my suffering, as if my weakness only added to his power. When I stumbled again, he looked at me with a mocking expression.

“It seems our eteri is struggling to keep up,” he said, his voice dripping with disdain. “Perhaps we should leave her here, let the jungle take care of her.”

I didn’t respond, but I raised my head and met his gaze with what little strength I had left. I refused to give him the satisfaction of seeing me utterly defeated. Clenching my teeth, I kept walking, forcing myself to ignore the burning in my leg and the fatigue that gnawed at my muscles. Yet every time I faltered or showed any sign of weakness, Omawit would turn back to hurl another cruel remark.

“What’s the matter, eteri?” he taunted, stopping again to stare at me. “Has the great warrior become a fragile damsel? I assure you, this is only the beginning. Soon, you’ll wish we had never found you.”

A chill ran through me at the coldness of his words. I knew he wasn’t joking. I had seen the evil in his eyes from the moment he captured me, and I had no doubt he would do everything in his power to break me. I forced myself to keep walking, to not let the fear consume me.

As we continued, the exhaustion made it increasingly difficult to stay on my feet. Sweat covered my forehead and back, and my breathing grew heavier. Omawit’s men barely gave me a moment to catch my breath, pushing me whenever I fell behind, treating me like an animal being dragged to its fate.

But no matter how hard I struggled to stay upright, I knew the real test was not physical but mental. Omawit missed no opportunity to remind me that I was under his control. Every word from his mouth, every mocking laugh, was a reminder that my freedom was slipping further and further away.

“Walk, Shaira,” I told myself, struggling to keep pace. “Just keep moving.”

As the march went on, I realized that the battle wasn’t only against pain and fatigue, but also against the despair that Omawit was trying to plant in my mind. I couldn’t allow myself to fall into his trap. I had to resist, even if the path ahead was as uncertain as the next step I took.

Every step was torture, not just because of the pain in my leg or the exhaustion eating away at me. It was Omawit’s voice, always present, always eager to strike me down with words full of cruelty. As we trudged through the jungle, he never missed a chance to make clear what awaited me in Zuwua.

“Do you know what I’ll do to your beloved Angro?” he asked, walking alongside me with a malicious expression. “I’ll remind everyone that he’s a traitor. You’ll see, they’ll all hate him when they realize he turned against his own people for an eteri.” He spat the last word like a curse. “He’ll be judged, and after that, a slow and painful death awaits him. But before that moment comes, I’ll make him watch as you become my slave. The last thing he’ll see will be you kneeling before me.”

A knot tightened in my stomach. Anger and fear mixed within me, but I forced myself not to react. I couldn’t let his words break me, even though each one pierced through me like a knife.

“When you’re mine, Shaira,” Omawit continued, his voice laden with perverse satisfaction, “I’ll make sure there’s no rest for you. I won’t give you a moment’s peace. You’ll work until you can’t even crawl. And when you’re weak and defeated, I’ll subject you to the greatest humiliations you can imagine. All of Zuwua will see you, and they’ll laugh at you while I parade you from place to place like the pet you’ll become.”

Hatred flared in my chest like a fire, but I knew that responding would only give him more power. I tried to harden my gaze, to appear unshaken, but then his hand struck out, hitting me with the back of his fist, a sharp and brutal blow that made me stumble.

“What’s wrong, Shaira?” Omawit said with a cruel smile. “Are you starting to understand? You’re nothing but a prisoner. There’s no escape for you. No one is coming to rescue you.”

I gritted my teeth to keep from crying out. I tasted the metallic tang of blood on my lips. I forced myself to keep walking, to not collapse at his feet. Every step was a challenge, a small victory in my mind, even if it seemed insignificant to him. I wasn’t going to give him the satisfaction of seeing me completely broken.

“Angro will never abandon me,” I murmured, my voice hoarse but steady. “And that’s what terrifies you, Omawit. That you can’t control us both.”

His face darkened, and before I could react, I felt the impact of his hand on my face, a blow that sent me off balance and crashing to the ground.

“I’m going to teach you what true fear is,” he said, his voice low and icy as I struggled to my feet. “And when we reach Zuwua, you won’t just be my slave. You’ll be an example to anyone who dares to defy me.”

The other warriors’ laughter echoed around me, but I couldn’t allow their mockery and threats to crush me. I rose with effort, lifting my head and staring at Omawit with a mixture of defiance and hatred. Even though my body ached, I promised myself that I wouldn’t let him win. I wouldn’t let him steal my spirit, no matter how hard he tried to break me.