The cold stone walls of Gale’s prison cell felt suffocating. The damp air seemed to creep into his bones, and the darkness wrapped around him like a heavy blanket. His mind raced, still reeling from the events of the past few hours. He could feel the bruises forming, the tightness in his muscles from the struggle, but it was the fear, the gnawing dread of what was to come next that kept him awake. He knew what was coming. He had heard the whispers of punishment before, the stories of what happened to those who broke the laws of Iekburgg.
It was only a matter of time.
The hours seemed to crawl by, but the stillness of the night was shattered by the sound of footsteps echoing down the hallway. Gale tensed, every muscle in his body locking as his heart began to pound in his chest. The guards. They were coming for him.
The door to his cell creaked open, the harsh light from the torch outside spilling into the darkness. A silhouette stood in the doorway, tall and menacing, blocking the only exit. Gale could barely see his face, but the harsh, cold tone of the voice that followed made the hair on his neck stand up.
“Get up,” the voice ordered.
Gale didn't respond right away. His mind was still clouded, too drained from everything that had happened, but the weight of the command was impossible to ignore. He had no choice. Slowly, his legs screamed in protest as he pushed himself up, his back stiff and sore from the aftermath of the whip. He stumbled to his feet, the chains around his wrists rattling as he stood, every movement a painful reminder of the punishment he had already endured.
The guard’s eyes gleamed coldly as they fixed on him. There was no sympathy, no hesitation. “The King’s orders,” the guard said, his voice low and unsettling. “It’s time.”
Gale’s heart skipped a beat. The King’s orders. He had heard rumors—whispers from the other prisoners. Some of them had spoken of the harsh, unforgiving justice that came from the royal family. But he didn’t understand. He didn’t know. What had he done to deserve this? What had Cray done to him? Why was he the one paying the price?
Before he could ask, the guards grabbed his arms, each one taking a firm hold, and pulled him from the cell with a speed that left him disoriented. The bitter cold air bit into his skin as he was dragged down the hallway and out of the prison. His legs faltered beneath him, and for a moment, he felt like he might collapse, but the guards were unrelenting. They pushed him forward, not caring about his pain, not caring about anything but the task they had been given.
Gale tried to focus, tried to make sense of what was happening, but his thoughts kept spiraling back to the pain of the lashes, the searing heat that still radiated from his back, and the emptiness that followed. What were they going to do to him now? The punishment had already begun. How much more could he endure?
They reached the clearing outside the prison, the moon casting an eerie glow on the snow-covered ground. The sight of the open space made Gale’s stomach churn. The last time he had been in a place like this, he had been tied to a post, the whip tearing into his flesh. The thought made his breath catch in his throat.
The guards stopped in front of a new, darker figure. It was a man dressed in a black cloak, his features hidden beneath a hood. Gale couldn’t make out his face, but he could feel the weight of his presence, the coldness that seemed to radiate from him. The man was no stranger to cruelty, and Gale knew instinctively that this was someone with power. Someone who gave orders and expected them to be followed.
The guard holding Gale by the arm spoke first, his voice thick with deference. “He’s ready.”
The cloaked figure gave a slight nod, his gaze sweeping over Gale. The words he spoke next were measured, deliberate, like each one was meant to drill into Gale’s mind.
“Bring him to the post.”
Panic gripped Gale’s chest. He had been expecting this, but now that it was happening, the reality of it hit him like a punch to the gut. He tried to resist, but the guards’ hold was unyielding. They shoved him forward, toward the same wooden post where his body had been broken once before. His vision blurred, and his legs felt weak as they forced him into position.
“Please,” Gale managed to rasp, his voice weak from the physical and emotional toll. “I didn’t—please, don’t do this.”
But his plea fell on deaf ears. They didn’t care about his reasons. They didn’t care about survival or circumstances. They only cared about maintaining control.
One of the guards moved behind him, securing Gale’s arms to the post with rough rope. The ropes were tight, cutting into his skin as they bound him, leaving him vulnerable, exposed. His body trembled, his mind racing for a way out, but there was no escape. The punishment would come, and there was nothing he could do to stop it.
The figure in the black cloak stepped closer, his voice cold and indifferent. “You are guilty of violating the laws of Iekburgg, of trespassing, of hunting in the woods. You are a criminal, and criminals will be punished.”
Before Gale could respond, the crack of a whip echoed through the cold night air. The sound was deafening, and the force of it made Gale’s body jerk against the ropes. His breath caught in his throat as the pain shot through him like fire, searing through his flesh. The blood rushed to his face, his heart racing as the agony pulsed in waves, each one worse than the last.
Another crack of the whip, and Gale gasped, the pain blinding him. His legs buckled beneath him, but the ropes held him upright, forcing him to endure the punishment. The blood began to seep down his back, mixing with the cold air, but nothing could cool the fire that raged inside him. The lashes came faster now, each one a brutal reminder of his fate, each one a step closer to breaking him.
Through the haze of pain, Gale’s thoughts were foggy, consumed by the relentless strikes. He couldn’t fight back, couldn’t move. His body was theirs to control. His pain was theirs to inflict.
And in that moment, all Gale could do was endure.
High Winds and Drifting Snow
