Chapter 10 : The Hollow whale
This time, she wasn’t the naive girl she had once been. She knew exactly where this road led—because she had walked it before. In the fragmented threads of her memory from the future timeline, Zara had experienced this moment, felt the cold iron of failure. Back then, ignorance had been her downfall. This time, her capture was part of a larger, calculated risk.
Her goal was clear: steal the Alexia.
The Alexia was no ordinary prize. It was power bottled in liquid form, a key to psychic abilities beyond imagination—or a lifeline to restore what was suppressed. Zara knew what it could do. In a fractured future that now felt like her past, she had seen the Alexia auctioned off in the depths of the citadel’s black market, the Hollow Whale. She had also seen how it had destroyed her life, marking her for death and betrayal. Yet, it was her only hope to survive and navigate the treacherous layers of the citadel’s underworld.
But the plan had failed—or seemed to.
Dragged through the towering halls of the citadel, Zara watched as the psychic detector hummed to life. The guards smirked as it confirmed what they already suspected: she was a psychic user. They clamped a suppressor collar around her neck, a cold, unforgiving weight that dulled her abilities to nothing more than a whisper in her mind. She was thrown into a cage with other captured kids—terrified faces, too young to fully understand what awaited them.
She understood.
The descent into the Hollow Whale was long and foreboding. Chains rattled. Shadows grew longer, thicker, consuming the narrow paths. The air turned cold, stale, tinged with the metallic scent of rust and despair. They were moving deep beneath the citadel, past forgotten ruins, to a place where no light reached.
The Hollow Whale wasn’t a mere black market—it was the citadel’s festering core of corruption. Here, the unspeakable became currency. Lives were sold alongside weapons, contraband, and relics of the psychic wars. The arena loomed below, vast and echoing, its cages suspended like grotesque ornaments above a pit of desperation.
Zara’s cage was lowered into this abyss, her mind racing. She wasn’t afraid. Fear had burned away long ago, leaving behind a sharper edge: determination. The Alexia was here. In her fractured memories of a life she had lived before, she knew exactly where they would stash it. Before the auction, after the auction—she had seen every angle, learned every detail.
The guards barely glanced at her as the cage halted. They unlocked the doors and barked commands, shoving the captives forward like cattle. Zara didn’t resist. She moved when they told her to, lowering her gaze, letting them believe they had broken her. But inside, she was already preparing.
The psychic suppressor dulled her abilities, but it couldn’t suppress her resolve. The plan began the moment her feet touched the ground. She had been here before—she knew the timing, the patterns, the weaknesses in their system. She knew the risks, and she knew the cost.
This was no longer about survival. It was about seizing the opportunity.
Zara’s moment was coming.
---
Beneath the bustling heart of the most fortified city in the world lay a hidden labyrinth known only to a select few—*The Hollow whale*. It was a place whispered about in shadows, a black market thriving under the unlikeliest of places. Its existence was both a bold defiance of authority and a testament to human greed and ingenuity.
The entrance was concealed in plain sight, tucked beneath a revered temple said to be sacred ground. Worshippers climbed its pristine marble steps daily, oblivious to the dark dealings happening below. For those in the know, a simple prayer whispered to a specific statue triggered a hidden mechanism. The floor shifted, and a staircase descended into the depths. The air grew cooler, tinged with the faint smell of damp stone and smoke as one ventured deeper.
At the heart of the subterranean expanse lay the market itself—a sprawling maze of chaos and commerce. Makeshift stalls, fashioned from scrap metal and rich silks, lined narrow pathways lit by flickering neon signs and torches. Every corner seemed alive with activity. The clang of weapons being tested, the low hum of whispered negotiations, and the distant roar of the arena blended into a cacophony of sound.
The **buildings** were a mismatched assortment of brutal functionality and eerie luxury. Some were little more than reinforced concrete bunkers, their doors guarded by hulking mercenaries. Others gleamed with ostentatious wealth—gold accents, velvet drapes, and chandeliers that sparkled like stolen stars. The disparity reflected the market’s clientele, which ranged from desperate smugglers to corrupt nobles.
In the central plaza, the **arena** loomed—a circular coliseum of iron and stone, shrouded in a suffocating aura of despair. Here, the cruelest of trades took place: the auctioning of slaves. Beneath harsh, unflinching lights, captives stood in ragged chains, their faces hollow, their spirits shattered. Bidders shouted from tiered seating, their voices filled with greed and indifference. High above, private balconies shielded the wealthiest buyers from the rabble.
Beyond the arena, the air grew thicker, tainted with the stench of forbidden goods. **Rare and deadly weapons**, some rumored to have toppled biggest cities in the past , were displayed brazenly on racks. **Drugs**, their colors as vibrant as they were lethal, were bartered over in hushed tones. A corner shop specialized in **enchanted artifacts**, with a robed figure promising curses or blessings, depending on the buyer’s coin.
The most harrowing section of the market was the **flesh trade**. Under dim, flickering lights, caged humans and exotic creatures were paraded before eager buyers. The auctioneer’s voice boomed, inciting a frenzy with promises of rare skills or unique bloodlines. Bidding wars erupted, sometimes ending in violence when tempers flared too high.
Despite its chaos, **The Hollow whale** was meticulously organized. An unseen council ensured that no deal went unpaid and no betrayal went unanswered. Even whispers of cheating were met with swift and brutal punishment. The air always carried a sense of unease, like a taut wire ready to snap.
But the market wasn’t just a place for illegal goods. It was a hub for the darkest **crimes** imaginable. Assassins advertised their services with subtle gestures, while spies exchanged intelligence in coded phrases. Deals were struck in blood, and fortunes were made or lost in the blink of an eye.
The atmosphere was electric, a mix of danger and allure. Every visitor felt the weight of the unspoken rule: **"Trust no one. Betrayal is currency here."**
In the shadows of The Hollow Hollow , morality was a distant concept, and survival was the only law. For those brave—or desperate—enough to descend into its depths, the market offered both unimaginable riches and the ever-looming threat of destruction.
The boy's footsteps echoed in the tunnel, a hesitant shuffle against the cold stone floor. His wrists were bound, the rope digging into his tender skin, and his small chest heaved as he struggled to keep up with the line of captives being marched deeper into the unknown. Around him, the sound of soft weeping filled the air, but no one dared to speak.
The guards flanking them were silent, their faces hidden behind featureless black masks that gleamed faintly in the dim torchlight. The boy glanced at the nearest one, searching for a flicker of humanity behind the empty eyes of the mask. There was none.
When they reached the end of the tunnel, the air shifted. It grew thicker, heavier, charged with something unnatural. The boy’s heart sank as the group passed through a massive iron gate. Beyond it lay a world that he couldn’t have imagined in his darkest nightmares.
---
The Hollow Whale unfolded before them like a living, breathing thing. A massive cavern stretched into an endless abyss, its towering buildings carved from jagged stone and glinting metal. Every structure seemed to lean precariously, connected by a web of swaying bridges and narrow staircases. At the center of it all, a glowing pit pulsed faintly, casting the entire place in an eerie, shifting light.
The boy’s senses were assaulted by the sheer chaos of it all. Merchants shouted over each other, hawking wares in voices thick with greed. The clinking of coins and the dull thud of crates being dragged across the ground created a dissonant symphony that filled the air.
“Exotic beasts from beyond the Wastelands!” one vendor cried, pulling a snarling creature from a cage.
“Rare enhancement serum , weapons and cybernatics—illegal in every stronghold above!” called another, holding up a vial that shimmered with colors no eye should see.
The boy stumbled as a guard shoved him forward. He caught himself just before falling and looked up to see the crowd. They were nothing like the people of his village. Nobles draped in luxurious cloaks, their faces obscured by jeweled masks, moved through the market with practiced indifference. Mercenaries, their weapons gleaming and their armor scarred, stood as silent sentinels for their wealthy employers. Shadowy figures, cloaked in darkness, bartered in whispers over goods that reeked of danger and death.
---
The captives were led toward the center of the market, where a massive arena loomed. The boy’s breath caught in his throat as he saw the iron bars that surrounded it, lined with glowing runes that hummed faintly. A thick crowd had already gathered, their eyes glinting with anticipation as they awaited the night’s “entertainment.”
He was shoved into a line of children and adults, each one trembling as they faced the raised platform in the center of the arena. The auctioneer, a tall man with a gaunt face and a smile that made the boy’s skin crawl, strode onto the stage.
“Welcome, welcome,” the man’s voice rang out, smooth and sickly sweet. “Tonight, we offer the finest selection the Hollow Whale has seen in months!”
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The crowd erupted in cheers and murmurs, their hunger palpable.
One by one, the captives were dragged forward. The boy watched in horror as a girl, no older than him, was yanked onto the platform. She tried to resist, but the guards were too strong. The auctioneer grabbed her chin, tilting her face toward the crowd.
“A rare gem,” he purred. “Strong, healthy, untouched by the filth of the surface. Who will start the bidding?”
The boy’s stomach churned as paddles shot into the air, accompanied by shouts of increasingly obscene sums of gold. The girl’s cries were drowned out by the frenzy.
---
The boy’s turn came too soon. His legs felt like lead as he was dragged onto the platform. The auctioneer’s icy fingers gripped his arm, holding him up for all to see.
“This one,” the man announced, his voice dripping with mockery, “is young, agile, and full of potential. Perfect for labor... or perhaps something more creative.”
The boy’s vision blurred as the bidding began. The faces in the crowd melted together, masks blending into one another until they became a single, monstrous entity. He wanted to scream, to run, but the weight of the moment pinned him in place.
---
As the auction continued, the boy noticed something beneath the surface—a quiet tension among the guards and merchants. He overheard snatches of whispered conversations.
“Too many died tried escaping lately,” one guard muttered to another.
By hearing that , The boy's ears drooped. He felt hopeless, like there was no way out. It was like a dark prison with no escape..
---
As the boy was led away, sold to a merchant whose cold eyes promised years of toil, he couldn’t help but think about the world above. He had always believed that Citadel stronghold was a city of light, a place where good triumphed over evil. But now he knew the truth.
Where light existed, shadows always followed. The Hollow Whale was the price of Citadel’s perfection, a festering wound hidden beneath its golden facade. It was a world where innocence was traded for profit, and hope was a currency more fragile than gold.
The boy resolved that, one day, he would escape. And when he did, he would find a way to bring the light into the shadows. For now, he would endure. He would survive. And he would never forget the truth of the Hollow Hollow : **where there is light, darkness waits beneath.**
The world outside the cage was a blur of muted light and muffled noise. The air was thick with the stench of sweat, fear, and damp stone. Zara sat cross-legged on the cold iron floor of the cage, her arms wrapped loosely around her knees. She looked small, frail, her malnourished frame blending in with the other children huddled around her. To anyone watching, she was just another frightened captive.
But Zara Voss was far from ordinary.
The Hollow Hollow —an infamous black-market underworld hidden deep beneath the Citadel—was her destination, though not by choice. Few in the world above even knew of its existence. The place was a fortress, a secret kept by the most powerful and the most vile, where the unspeakable thrived under a veneer of shadow. Its halls were carved into the earth itself, a labyrinth of stone and steel that swallowed hope whole.
---
The rickety cage groaned as it swung slightly from the chain suspending it above the stone floor. Around Zara, children her apparent age whispered in hushed tones or cried silently into their sleeves. Most of them were too terrified to speak, their eyes darting to the slavers who prowled nearby like wolves guarding their prey.
Zara, however, was calm. Her gaze was steady, her breathing even. The others saw a quiet, withdrawn girl, no older than thirteen, with tangled hair and hollow cheeks. They didn’t know she was nineteen, a regresser trapped in the body of a malnourished adolescent. They didn’t know she had once walked these halls freely, her steps silent as she carried out contracts in the shadows.
And they didn’t know she was watching, memorizing every detail—the guards’ movements, the creak of the cage’s hinges, the flickering torches along the walls.
---
The cage jerked suddenly, lowering toward the stone platform below. The children yelped in alarm, clutching at one another as the chain clattered loudly. Zara remained still, her hands gripping the bars lightly as she peered through them.
The descent revealed more of the Hollow Hollow . The platform below was crowded with figures cloaked in shadow, their faces hidden by masks or hoods. Zara recognized the types immediately: slavers, black-market merchants, and the occasional buyer who fancied themselves bold enough to wander into this underworld.
The guards barked orders as the cage settled onto the platform with a final clank. The children were dragged out one by one, their chains rattling as they were lined up for inspection. Zara moved with them, keeping her head low, her expression carefully blank.
---
The Hollow Whale was alive with activity. Merchants shouted over one another, peddling everything from illegal weapons to rare artifacts. But the loudest voices came from the auction block, where captives were paraded like livestock before eager buyers.
Zara felt a flicker of disgust as she was herded through the marketplace. She knew this place too well. In her past life, she had seen its inner workings, memorized its secrets. She had even taken contracts from the same people who now eyed her like a commodity.
But this time was different. She was on the other side of the bars, a prisoner instead of a predator.
---
They were led to another cage, larger but no less confining. Zara was shoved inside along with the others, the door slamming shut behind them. She sank to the floor, leaning against the bars as she listened to the guards talk in low voices outside.
Her mind raced. She couldn’t afford to waste time. The suppressor collar around her neck was still active, its hum a constant reminder of her limited power. She needed to get it off, and for that, she needed to get out of this cage.
The children around her whispered among themselves, their voices tinged with despair. Zara ignored them at first, her focus on the guards and the layout of the area. But then she caught snippets of their conversation—stories of where they’d been taken from, of families left behind, of hope that had long since faded.
Something stirred in Zara, an old, buried part of her that remembered what it was like to care. She pushed it down, hard. She couldn’t afford to think about anyone else. Not now.
---
Instead, she turned her attention to the cage itself. The hinges were rusted, the lock worn from years of use. It wouldn’t be easy, but it was a weakness. She filed it away, adding it to the growing list of details she would use to escape.
For now, she waited. Zara Voss was nothing if not patient. She had lived through hell once before, and she had no intention of dying here.
As the children huddled closer, seeking comfort in their shared fear, Zara allowed a small smile to touch her lips. Not one of kindness, but of determination.
The Hollow Whalethought it had captured her. It would learn soon enough that Zara Voss was no ordinary prey.
Zara sat in the cage, her keen eyes darting from the guards to the chains, to the torches flickering along the cavernous walls. The muted hum of the psychic suppressor around her neck buzzed faintly, a constant reminder of her limitations. But Zara wasn’t focused on what she couldn’t do. She was focused on what she could.
---
The guards were sloppy. They relied on fear and brute strength to keep their captives in line, their laughter echoing as they casually leaned against the walls, weapons slung lazily at their sides. Zara noted every lapse in attention, every moment one guard glanced away or stepped out of position.
She counted supplies on the slavers’ tables—oil flasks for the torches, loose chains, a bundle of rags stained with grease. Her sharp mind, honed from years of being a platinum-ranked assassin in her former life, began piecing together a plan.
“Distraction first,” she thought, her gaze flicking toward the children crammed into the cage with her. Most of them were terrified, but some, she noticed, still had sparks of defiance in their eyes.
---
Zara leaned closer to the group nearest her. “You want to survive?” she whispered, her voice barely audible over the din of the market.
The children hesitated, but a boy with dark, determined eyes nodded.
“Then listen to me,” Zara said. “When the moment comes, you need to run. Don’t stop. Don’t look back. Run toward the chaos, not away from it.”
The boy frowned. “Chaos? What do you mean?”
Zara’s lips curved into a small, cold smile. “I’m going to give them something to chase.”
---
The guards came to unlock the cage, dragging out a group of children for the next auction block. Zara made sure to stay in the middle of the pack, her head bowed, her movements unassuming. As they were herded toward the platform, she let herself stumble, falling near a stack of supplies.
“Get up!” barked one of the guards, yanking her to her feet.
Zara obeyed, but not before her nimble fingers snatched a small flask of oil and a scrap of cloth. The movements were so fluid, so practiced, that the guard didn’t notice a thing.
As they neared the auction block, Zara’s sharp eyes caught sight of an exposed torch near the edge of the stage. Perfect.
---
Once they were lined up, Zara glanced toward the children she had spoken to earlier. She caught the dark-eyed boy’s gaze and gave him a subtle nod.
Then she acted.
Zara dropped the cloth she had swiped, soaked in oil, near the torch's flame. In a single swift motion, she kicked it closer, the rag catching fire instantly. The flames licked upward, spreading rapidly across the stage’s wooden beams.
Panic erupted. The guards shouted as they scrambled to put out the fire, their focus completely diverted. Zara seized the moment, grabbing the boy’s hand and shouting, “Run!”
The children scattered, their chains clanking loudly as they bolted in every direction. The guards, caught off-guard by the sudden chaos, chased after them blindly.
---
Zara moved like a shadow, slipping through the confusion with practiced ease. She stayed low, darting between stalls and overturned tables. She made her way toward the storage area she had memorized during her time in the cage—a section of the Hollow Whalewhere confiscated items were kept.
Her instincts were sharp, her movements silent. She reached the room quickly, her eyes scanning for tools. There, among the clutter, she found what she needed: a small metal rod, perfect for picking locks.
The suppressor collar around her neck hummed tauntingly, but Zara ignored it. Her fingers worked deftly, and within moments, the collar clicked open and clattered to the ground.
---
With her psychic abilities no longer suppressed, Zara felt the familiar rush of power flood back into her mind. The slavers’ scattered thoughts buzzed around her like insects, chaotic and disorganized.
She used her abilities sparingly, subtly nudging the minds of guards to look the wrong way or to double back unnecessarily. The confusion in the air thickened, buying her more time.
As the fire spread and smoke began to fill the cavern, Zara made her way toward one of the hidden exits she knew existed. Her memories of the Hollow Whalefrom her past life guided her steps, her knowledge of its secret pathways her greatest weapon.
-
By the time the guards realized what had happened, Zara was gone, her figure disappearing into the narrow, winding tunnels that led out of the Hollow Hollow .
Behind her, the chaos she had unleashed consumed the slavers, the fire and panic spreading like wildfire. The children she had motivated to flee would scatter into the shadows, their chances of survival slim but not impossible.
Zara didn’t look back. Her focus was already on what lay ahead—freedom, vengeance, and the first steps toward reclaiming the life she had lost.
The Hollow Whale thought it could cage her. It would learn, too late, that Zara Voss was uncontainable.
The **Hollow whale ** was as foreboding as Zara remembered—a sprawling network of underground chambers carved into the very bedrock beneath the Citadel, hidden from all but the most powerful and ruthless. Only those with bloodied hands or gilded connections could gain entry, and Zara knew that her capture was no mere coincidence. This was fate’s cruel irony: she had returned to the place she had first sworn vengeance on the world, now shackled and powerless.
Her younger body, starved and fragile, did little to diminish her sharp mind. Zara knew exactly why she was here. It wasn’t just the slavers’ greed for coin—no, they had unknowingly delivered her to a pivotal moment. The **elixir**, auctioned only once every few years, would appear tonight. It was an item she hadn’t been able to obtain in her first life but was crucial to her rise as a Platinum-Ranked Assassin in the future.
This time, she wouldn’t let it slip through her fingers.
---
The cart rattled and groaned as it descended into the Hollow whale ’s hidden tunnels, a place shrouded in secrecy and corruption. Zara and the other captives were unloaded roughly, her slight frame earning only a dismissive shove from the guards. They muttered about her worth, laughing at the scrawny “urchin” who wouldn’t fetch much. She didn’t care about their words—her focus was on the layout, the guards, and the patterns of movement.
The memories came flooding back as she observed the grand chambers and auction halls. Though disoriented by the psychic suppressor around her neck, Zara silently mapped out the exits, the storage areas, and the auction stage where the elixir would be displayed.
---
Zara waited patiently in her cage, observing the others—a mix of terrified children, defiant teens, and hollow-eyed adults. She didn’t waste energy trying to console anyone, knowing that survival in this place demanded cunning, not compassion. Yet, she also understood that a distraction was essential to her escape.
The opportunity came when the guards began escorting captives out in groups for processing and auctioning. Zara was among the last group called, just as she had anticipated. As her cage was unlocked and she was yanked to her feet, she stumbled deliberately, earning her a harsh yank on the collar.
“Move it, runt!” one of the guards barked, but she caught the flicker of his gaze toward the other guards—an opening.
---
Her first move was subtle. Zara nudged a fellow captive, a wiry boy trembling beside her, whispering a single command: “Fall.”
He didn’t understand but obeyed, collapsing dramatically in the center of the hallway. The guards shouted, distracted by the commotion as they tried to pull the boy to his feet. Zara used the moment to swipe a thin sliver of metal from a guard’s utility belt—barely noticeable, but perfect for what she needed.
As they reached the main auction chamber, Zara’s sharp eyes scanned for the elixir. There it was—encased in glass, glowing faintly with a soft, otherworldly hue. Its aura sent a shiver down her spine; she could almost feel her suppressed psychic energy stirring at the sight.
She had to act now.
---
The auction was underway, and the room buzzed with tension. Zara subtly worked on the suppressor collar, using the stolen sliver of metal to pick at the lock. Her heart raced as the mechanism clicked. The instant the collar fell away, a wave of relief washed over her, followed by the familiar hum of her psychic abilities returning.
She wasted no time. With a focused thought, she sent a telekinetic burst toward the rows of cages, shattering several and sending the captives scattering in all directions. The guards, caught off-guard, scrambled to regain control.
Zara didn’t stay to fight. She darted toward the auction stage, blending into the chaos. Her small frame and nimble movements allowed her to slip past the panicked crowd unnoticed.
---
Reaching the stage, Zara snatched the elixir from its glass case, tucking it securely into her tattered clothes. The moment her fingers touched the vial, she felt its energy pulsate through her, promising untapped power.
But there was no time to savor the moment. Alarms blared, and reinforcements poured into the chamber. Zara’s eyes darted to the nearest exit—a ventilation shaft she remembered from her past life.
---
Using her psychic powers, she launched herself upward, propelling her light body into the shaft. Behind her, the guards shouted, their footsteps fading as she navigated the narrow tunnels. The
further she climbed, the louder her heart pounded.
Finally, Zara emerged into the cold night air above the Citadel, her lungs burning but her spirit soaring. She clutched the elixir tightly, her lips curling into a rare smile.
This time, she wasn’t just surviving—she was rewriting her destiny.
