"Kneel!"
The order cracked through the air like thunder.
A boy dropped to his knees. His body trembled as it hit the marble floor. Thick black hair clung to his forehead, matted with sweat and dirt. Blood trickled from his lip as he looked up, eyes wide with helplessness.
"P-Please… just let me go," he whispered.
A richly robed figure sneered above him. "You lowlife. You dare speak in my presence?"
The boy didn't even have time to flinch before the backhand came. The king's jeweled ring left a crimson mark across his cheek. The world around the boy blurred, tilting and twisting before fading into darkness.
When Zion opened his eyes, he lay on a rusted cot in a crumbling wooden shack. Dim light filtered through the cracks in the ceiling. He sat up slowly, his head pounding, ribs aching.
He recognized the place. Muscle's home. His only friend in this forsaken kingdom.
Zion rubbed his bruised cheek and sighed. Creeds. The word echoed through his mind like a curse.
"The most feared thing in the world," he muttered.
"They're not just powers… they're chains."
Every person was bound to a Creed a divine law etched into their soul. And his?
The Creed of a Slave.
A cruel fate. A role forced into submission. No choice. No freedom.
He stepped outside into the dusty street, the stale scent of rain lingering in the air. As he walked through the cracked alleys of Savio, the memory came back the King's face, his fist, the humiliation. Zion's lips curled with resentment.
He passed a young man with striking purple hair and bumped into his shoulder.
"Ah sorry," Zion said.
The man blinked, then offered a brief smile. "It's alright." He continued on, disappearing into the crowd.
Zion turned a corner and approached the iron gates of Savio's castle. Two armored guards stood watch. One gave him a sideways glance. "Do your job well, slave."
Zion said nothing and entered.
The throne room's grandeur was cold and suffocating. Gold-lined pillars. Velvet drapes. And at the center the man who owned him.
The King.
"Well, well… my little crack-headed slave," the King mocked, lounging lazily on the throne. "Still breathing, huh?"
Zion grit his teeth.
The King's fist struck him again, sending him to the ground. "Clean my boots, rat."
Zion hesitated. His fists trembled. He wanted to strike back. To rise up. To scream.
But he couldn't.
His hand froze. Then fell. Forced by the invisible strings of the Creed that bound him.
The Creed of a Slave forbade rebellion. Even his thoughts fought against him.
A guard entered. "Your Majesty. We must prepare for the journey to the Kingdom of Rei."
"Yes. And bring weapons," the King said, yawning. "Those vermin might try something foolish."
Zion's body shook with fury. Again, his fist rose. Again, it dropped.
The King noticed. "You dared to raise your hand?"
Another kick. Another insult.
"Throw him out."
The guards dragged Zion out and tossed him into the street like garbage.
"Be here tomorrow," one growled.
Rain began to fall.
Zion sat on a lonely bench in the square as the sky wept with him. People scattered, running for shelter, but he didn't move. Cold water soaked through his clothes. His thoughts spiraled.
He looked up.
There, hanging in a nearby shop, was a birdcage. Inside, a small bird thrashed its wings, pecking at the bars, desperate to break free.
Zion stared at it, unmoving. He could see himself in that bird. Trapped. Powerless. Screaming into silence.
Lightning cracked in the distance.
He raised his head to the sky the rain hitting his face felt like tears not his own.
"Let it be done," he whispered.
And for the first time…
The chains in his heart quivered.