Chapter 2: The First Rebellion
The chains around his neck were cold, but Jamukh's eyes burned with purpose.
He was ten now. Five long years had passed since the night his world turned to ash. His back bore the scars of a hundred beatings. His hands were rough, his body hardened by labor—but his spirit remained unbroken.
By day, he carried water, chopped wood, cleaned blood.
By night, he watched, listened, remembered.
He learned how many guards walked the night path.
Which ones drank too much.
Which ones kicked the children.
Which ones looked away.
Temülen was always beside him. Quiet. Sharp. Observant.
They shared more than just pain now—they shared a goal.
Freedom.
---
That night, everything changed.
The sky roared with thunder. But it wasn't a storm.
Raiders had come.
Enemies of the tribe that had enslaved them.
Fires lit the night once more—like echoes of that first nightmare.
Screams. Horses. Chaos.
Jamukh felt his heart race—but not with fear.
With resolve.
"This is our moment," Temülen whispered.
Jamukh nodded. "Let's set them all free."
They ran to the slave pens. Guards were gone, distracted by the battle.
Jamukh picked up a broken spear. His hands trembled, not from fear—but from knowing this was real.
He smashed the wooden lock.
Children poured out, confused, scared. Some cried. Others froze.
"We're not slaves anymore!" Jamukh shouted. "Follow me!"
Not all listened. Some ran the other way. Some stayed behind.
But a few believed.
---
As they fled through the burning camp, Jamukh heard it:
A deep growl. A boy's scream.
He turned. In the corner, a massive child was being beaten by three warriors.
Zorig.
Jamukh had only seen him once—quiet, alone, a mountain of muscle even at ten. But now he was bloodied, on his knees, growling like a wounded beast.
Jamukh didn't think. He didn't weigh odds.
He charged.
He slammed the broken spear into one man's back.
Temülen followed—throwing sand into another's eyes.
Zorig roared and stood, grabbing the last man by the throat.
Together, they won.
Together, they ran.
---
As the flames raged behind them, and the night sky swallowed the chaos, an arrow flew—silent, swift.
It aimed for Temülen's back.
Jamukh saw it too late—yet moved just in time.
He shoved his friend aside.
Pain exploded in his side.
He fell.
The world spun.
Darkness crept in…
But before it claimed him, he smiled.
They were free.
And this was only the beginning.
---
To be continued…