Footsteps echoed on the wet sand, but Aerax did not turn around.The pounding of hooves on dry earth blended with his rapid breathing, each heartbeat hammering like an anvil in his chest. The stench of filth still clung to his skin, but he paid it no mind. His eyes were locked on the one place that had never known chains: the sea.
The alarm rose, sounding like the final roar of a dying world.Aerax darted through narrow, shadowed alleys where moonlight could not reach. Torches flared atop the watchtowers. He heard shouting—orders barked, steel scraping from sheaths.They knew he had escaped.
"Black horse! Tracks! Southwest!"A voice rang out into the night.
Aerax vaulted over a vine-covered stone wall, thorns tearing into his skin, but he didn't stop.Years in bondage had forged not only his strength, but his endurance—and now, his unyielding will to live.
Ahead lay a clearing—once the site where he had been beaten while digging graves for fallen gladiators.Now, it was a path to freedom.
He sprinted along the narrow trail, kicking up weeds and brittle underbrush. Behind him, dogs barked—hunters unleashed.Aerax gasped for breath, blood streaking down his flanks from thorn cuts, but he never slowed.
The trees parted—and the sea appeared.
A silver glow shimmered across the black waves.The ocean wind tore through his sweat-matted fur, laced with the sharp tang of salt and seaweed.
He froze for a heartbeat, chest heaving.And then—
"There! Get him!"
No time.
Aerax plunged forward, into the surf.Boots thundered behind him, arrows whistling through the air.
One shaft nicked his left shoulder. He hissed in pain—but kept moving.His hooves sank into the wet sand, dragging him forward, toward the sea.
Cold waves slapped at his thighs.He couldn't swim.But he didn't stop.
Water rose to his chest. Then to his neck.He lifted his head and drew in one final breath—before the sea swallowed him whole.
He kicked and flailed—his body heavy as stone.Salt water burned his eyes, filled his nose, flooded his lungs.He couldn't control his limbs.Everything was slipping away.
Darkness closed in.
When he opened his eyes, Aerax found himself in a dim, shadowed cave.
The first sound he heard was the slow drip of water echoing from the depths.Above him, the cave ceiling glimmered faintly, lit by the soft glow of bioluminescent seaweed.Cold sand pressed into his back.He coughed violently, retching seawater.His entire body ached.His bones felt shattered.
But he was alive.
Aerax lay still, listening to the rhythm of his breathing merge with the distant roar of the surf beyond the cave's mouth.His body trembled from the cold, but his heart still beat—the rhythm of someone who had escaped death.
Slowly, he propped himself up and looked out.The cave's entrance lay beneath a sheer cliff, completely hidden from sight above.The sea still raged—but here, for now, he was safe.
This cave might be his grave—or his beginning.
Aerax leaned back against the stone wall, one hand pressed to his chest, where his heart thundered with raw life.It was a miracle. But he had survived.