Keiran's eyes shone with a rare glimmer of light, the first since he had arrived in this wretched place. He turned to Selara, his voice carrying a spark of urgency.
"How?"
Selara sat beside him in the vehicle, staring out the window as the dull, lifeless town came into view. Her voice was calm but firm.
"There are only three roads that connect this place. One leads from the factory to the town, another enters the factory from somewhere outside—probably a city—and the last one is behind the factory, used purely for transporting goods out."
Keiran nodded. "Yeah, I know that."
Selara continued, her expression unchanging. "There's no way we can escape from the back of the factory or the road leading to town."
Keiran frowned. "That only leaves us with one option—the main entrance. But how do we even—"
Selara cut him off. "Wrong. That doesn't leave us with one option. It leaves us with two."
Keiran's eyes widened. "Two? What?"
Selara finally turned to him, her dark blue eyes sharp. "There's a tunnel beneath the factory. You probably didn't notice yesterday, but the vehicles that brought us here never went back through the rear exit. They left through the tunnel instead."
Keiran's mind raced. That did make sense. The factory had swallowed them whole, and there had been no sign of the same transport vehicles leaving.
Selara continued, "The tunnel is inside the factory, but if my theory is correct, it stays closed until the next batch of children arrives—which won't be anytime soon."
Keiran clenched his fists. "I don't care. At least we have a way out of this hell." Then, a thought struck him. "Wait—why can't we escape from the back of the factory?"
Selara sighed, as if the answer should have been obvious. "Idiot. That road is for transporting goods, and as you've seen, those 'goods' aren't normal. Security there is tighter than anywhere else. Every single thing that leaves is checked thoroughly."
Keiran exhaled, frustrated but understanding.
The vehicle rumbled forward, carrying them back into the heart of the town. The buildings loomed around them, cold and lifeless. As they arrived at their apartment complex, Selara turned to him.
"I'll talk to you later," she said.
Keiran gave a slight nod before stepping out.
Once inside his apartment, Keiran let out a slow breath, stripping off his grimy clothes and stepping into the bath. The warm water did little to soothe him—his body ached, and his mind was restless. As he leaned back, he glanced at the clock.
7 PM.
There was still time before dinner. He dried off, dressed, and made his way down the hall, stopping in front of Room 1.
This time, he wouldn't let Asheron get away.
Keiran knocked twice.
"You may come in," came Asheron's smooth voice.
Keiran pushed open the door.
The scent of faint herbal tea filled the air. The room was similar to his own, but where Keiran's closet had been empty, Asheron's was filled with neatly arranged clothes. By the window, Asheron sat in a chair, one hand holding a steaming cup of tea while his gaze drifted outside.
At Keiran's entrance, he turned back with a small smile.
"Welcome, Mister Kei. How may I help you?"
Keiran narrowed his eyes. "This time, I won't let you escape."
Asheron gave a slow nod, taking a sip of his tea. "Very well. No personal information."
Keiran leaned against the doorframe. "Fine. I won't ask about you. But I do want answers."
Keiran leaned against the doorframe, arms crossed. His mind churned with questions, but one stood out above the rest.
"What is an Oath?" he asked.
Asheron took another sip of his tea before answering. "A promise."
Keiran shook his head. "No, not that kind of Oath. I mean… what is the path of an Oath?"
Asheron finally set his cup down. A quiet clink echoed in the still room. He turned in his chair, meeting Keiran's gaze with something deeper—something unreadable.
"An Oath is not just words, boy. It is a chain. A shackle. A whisper of power that demands its price in blood and soul."
Keiran stiffened. The air in the room suddenly felt heavier.
"To take an Oath is to carve your fate into the world itself," Asheron continued. "It will lift you beyond what you are—but it will take something in return. It always does."
Keiran swallowed, his throat dry. "And the Path?"
Asheron leaned forward slightly, his voice dropping to something colder, older.
"That is what comes after. The road you walk once the chains have been set. Some forge ahead, unbroken. Others stumble, crushed beneath the weight of what they swore."
He turned back toward the window, exhaling softly. "Few ever reach the end of their Path. Fewer still regret nothing when they do."
Keiran felt a strange unease creep up his spine. "Mister… may I ask for a simpler explanation of that last part?"
Asheron chuckled, shaking his head. "The end part? Boy, it's simple—either you break your Oath, or your Oath breaks you."
His gaze flicked to Keiran again, the faintest smirk playing on his lips. "Some Oaths lead to power, some to ruin. But every Path has a cost. And when you reach the end, you'll know whether you paid too much."
Keiran sat in stunned silence for a moment before forcing himself to ask the next question.
"How… how does one take an Oath? And to whom?"
Asheron leaned back in his chair, staring at the dim ceiling light as if recalling something distant.
"To whom?" His voice was softer now. "That depends on who—or what—is listening."
A moment of silence passed.
"Some swear to gods. Others to the dead. Some make an Oath to themselves, and some… to things they don't understand."
Keiran felt his breath hitch slightly. There was something unsettling in the way Asheron said that last part.
Asheron finally shifted his gaze back to Keiran, his expression unreadable. "But taking an Oath is the easy part. The words, the ritual, the blood if needed—those are just steps."
He tilted his head slightly.
"The real question isn't how to take an Oath." His voice was edged with something Keiran couldn't quite name. "It's whether you're ready to live with it."
The weight of those words settled deep into Keiran's bones. The room suddenly felt smaller, suffocating. The faint scent of tea mixed with the cold stillness of the apartment. The dim yellow light flickered, casting long, stretching shadows across the wooden floor.
Keiran clenched his fists. Was that how power worked in this world? Give something, lose something, and hope you're not left empty at the end?
Asheron exhaled slowly, taking another sip of his tea. "Now your question is answered. You may leave."
Keiran hesitated. His mind was still spinning. He had more to ask, but before he could speak, Asheron cut him off.
"Tomorrow."
Keiran exhaled sharply but nodded. Without another word, he turned and left the room.
Back in his apartment, Keiran sat on the edge of his bed, staring at the floor. The conversation replayed in his mind.
Oaths. Paths. Chains.
How many people had taken an Oath and regretted it? How many had found power, only to realize they had lost something greater?
His hands curled into fists. The world had its own rules, its own unseen forces pulling the strings. He needed to understand them. He needed to know what kind of path lay before him.
His stomach growled, pulling him out of his thoughts. He glanced at the clock.
8 PM.
With a sigh, he got up and made his way downstairs to eat.
The dining hall was filled with the usual dull murmurs of workers and factory children. Keiran sat at an empty table and started eating when Selara slid into the seat across from him.
He gave her a small nod. "Evening."
Selara raised a brow. "So, what did you do to pass the time? Did you come up with a plan or something?"
Keiran shook his head. "Not a plan, but something else. Something just as important."
Selara leaned forward slightly. "What?"
Keiran finished his meal before answering. "I asked Asheron about the Path of an Oath."
Selara's eyes widened slightly. "Oh? And?"
Keiran set his spoon down and recounted everything. The weight of Oaths, their cost, their consequences. The chains, the choices, the end.
Selara listened intently, occasionally nodding, her expression unreadable.
After they finished dinner, Keiran felt restless. The air inside the building felt suffocating, so he decided to take a walk.
The town at night was a different kind of quiet. The streets, dimly lit by scattered lanterns, felt hollow—like the people walking them weren't really alive. The scent of iron and smoke lingered in the air, mixing with the distant murmur of guards on patrol.
Shops had closed, their wooden signs swaying gently in the cold breeze. Workers trudged back to their apartments, heads down, eyes empty. The entire town felt mechanical, like it existed only to serve the factory.
Keiran walked aimlessly, his mind still tangled in thoughts of Oaths and Paths. He barely noticed when his steps led him near an alleyway.
And then—
A sudden grip.
A sharp pull.
Keiran barely had time to react before he was yanked into the alley, darkness swallowing him whole.