The Echoes of Forgotten

The mood inside the cottage was stiff, faint groans of wood could be heard as the wooden walls shook slightly due to the heavy wind that howled through the gaps of weathered and mismatched planks that didn't quite fit together. Long distorted shadows were dancing across the uneven floor, casted by a single lantern that was perched precariously on a crooked table, sputtering weakly. The roof of the cottage sagged slightly, its weight pressing down on the dim, suffocating space, while the chill of the night seeped in through every crack.
There, in the middle of the room, sat a bloodied figure, slumped in an old, battered chair barely holding its weight. The girl was tied securely to the chair with thick, coarse ropes. Her head hung low, and her face was cascaded by long curtains of icy black strands, though from the cracks one could see the red on her pale skin. The girl was still, if not for the faint rise and fall of her chest, people would believe her to be dead.
The stillness finally broke as the girl moved, her arms twitching slightly against the ropes, revealing the raw abrasions on them under the flickering light. A groan left her mouth from the pain that was wracking her body. The tattered sleeve of her once-sturdy coat revealed a gash along her forearm, the edges of the wound angry and swollen.
The girl's head tilted slightly, and the light caught the edge of her jaw- the sharp line that seemed defiant even under the dark patch of blood that was trailing from her forehead to her neck. Her left cheek bore a darkening bruise, and a torn fabric at her shoulder exposed the faint outline of another.
From outside the cottage, muffled voices were carried through the thin walls, their tones agitated.
"She took down five of us alone and fought against another fifteen," One man growled, his words, though harsh and clipped, were filled with astonishment. "How the hell is she still breathing?"
A snort followed. "You're asking the wrong question. What I want to know is what the boss plans to do with her. That girl is dangerous."
"Not so dangerous now, is she?" a third voice jeered. "Tied up like that, she is nothing but a corpse now."
Another snort followed the man's remark "Says a man with his nose broken by the same girl tied up inside."
"That's because she caught me off guard- I can take care of her anytime-"
"Enough!" a fourth voice barked, cutting through the din. It was sharper, more commanding. "She's worth more to the boss alive than dead. Unless you want to answer to him, keep your mouths shut."
Inside the cottage, the girl stirred again, this time, lifting her head rather slowly. Stands of dark hair parted, revealing a sliver of her face- angled cheekbones streaked with dirt and blood, and her chapped lips pressed into a tight, grim line. Her eyes, still hidden in shadow, snapped open, but she remained still, listening.
Suddenly, the door swung open, making way for a gust of cold air, accompanied by the heavy tread of boots. A massive figure clogged the doorway, his presence almost too large for the cramped space. Carrying himself with the confidence of someone who knew he had nothing to fear from his surroundings, he swept his sharp eyes over the girl like she was nothing more than a broken tool.
"Is she awake?" he muttered, stepping closer to take a better look.
The girl shifted, noticing the man coming closer to her. She tilted her head to meet the man's gaze. Her eyes, a startling shade of turquoise blue, gleamed like fractured ice in the flickering light, unyielding despite the pain etched into her features.
"You have caused us a lot of trouble," he said, crouching until his face was level with hers. His breath was sour, but she didn't flinch. "Five of my men won't walk straight for weeks. Fenn's still spitting teeth while Derick's nose is bent at a strange angle. You must be proud of yourself."
The girl's lips twitched- not quite a smile, but close enough to make his expression darken.
"Not proud," she said, her voice hoarse but steady. "Disappointed. Twenty men and none of you could do the job right."
The man's fist clenched, and for a moment, she thought he might strike her. Instead, he leaned closer, the malice in his eyes sharp enough to cut.
"Keep talking, girl," he growled. "The boss won't care what shape you're in when he gets here."
The girl scoffs, making the man agitate and step closer but the sound of footsteps outside the door caught his attention, and he straightened, muttering something under his breath. Without another word, he turned and left, the door slamming shut behind him.
The moment the door clicked into place, Elara exhaled slowly, immediately testing the ropes that were binding her hands on the armrests of the chair. Her injuries throbbed with every movement, but she welcomed the pain. It was better than the hollow feeling in her chest, the one she had no time to confront right now.
Her gaze flickered to the high window, where the faintest sliver of moonlight seeped through a crack in the boards. The odds weren't in her favor, but they stopped being in her favor since 5 years ago. Elara shook her head slightly, there was no time to think about other things, she needed to get out of this place.
Elara twisted and turned her arms against the ropes, testing the resistance. Her wrists aching from the rough fibers biting into her skin, but she didn't stop, she couldn't afford to, but then, her heart skipped a beat, and she felt a faint give in the knots on her left hand. It was not as tight on that side. A flicker of hope ignited as she adjusted her grip, flexing her fingers to reach the rope. She stretched and twisted her wrist, her nails scraping against the rough surface, seeking leverage. The sensation of the loose strands sliding slightly against her skin made her pulse quicken. She shot a quick glance toward the door, for any sign of opening, but thankfully, her captors were conveniently busy outside, the muffled voices indicated some important conversation. She could feel the fibers starting to shift, but she knew every second counted. The man that had entered previously talked about some boss, she could feel that supposed boss could be here any moment now, and then, she finally stopped.
She stopped resisting the ropes, now that she knew the ropes on her left hand were loose, instead of unbinding herself, she waited patiently. She must meet this boss if there is even a sliver of hope of getting the answers she infiltrated their warehouse for.... and there was something else too. Now that Elara was calm and thought back, the loose ropes on her left hand felt deliberate. Was it really a coincidence that the ropes, specifically on her left hand were loose, could it be that someone who knew that she was left-handed did it on purpose? There was only one way to find out and that was to let them come to her.
The muffled voices outside had quit down, whatever they were discussing about had come to an end. The sound of shoes clicked against the creaky wooden floor just outside the door and came to a halt. Elara waited for the person to enter, deliberating how to get the information out of them and it seemed like to her that the person outside was thinking of the same thing. Finally, the door swung open, this time without the brute force of before, but with a controlled precision that seemed at odds with the dilapidated cottage.
A man stepped inside, his tailored suit immaculate despite the grimy surroundings. His slicked-back dark hair gleamed under the dim yellow light, and a pair of wireframed glasses perched on his nose adding a veneer intellect. He carried himself with the ease of someone used to commanding attention, a faint smirk playing on his lips as his calculated gaze settled on Elara.
The men who followed him stopped just inside the door, guarding it. The atmosphere shifted immediately, tension coiling tight in the air.

Elara needed no introduction of this man, she could immediately tell that this man was the boss, the earlier brute was talking about.

"Well," the man said, his voice smooth and unhurried as though he were greeting a guest at a business meeting. "The infamous intruder. Or should I say, the cause of my current headache?" The man's voice shifted drastically as he said the last word, his dark eyes inspecting the frail body in front of him.
On the other side, Elara's icy blue eyes snapped to his, narrowing as she assessed the man. This was no common thug. He was different- too polished, too composed. The way he moved, the way his words dipped with calculated amusement, reminded her of the high society types she had spent her childhood avoiding.
"You don't look like the boss of a gang of smugglers," Elara commented, her voice dry despite the hoarseness from her injuries. "I was expecting someone.... rougher."
The man grinned darkly as if her defiance had amused him. "And you don't sound like someone who's spent the last few hours tangling with twenty elites," her replied, his eyes exploring her bloodied form. "Yet here we are."
"Are you sure you are a businessman? clearly, you were scammed." Elara snorted, mocking him not just with her words but her actions too. The two men guarding the door shifted a little on Elara's comment.
The man stepped closer, calm despite Elara's mocking comment. He casually rested his hands in his pockets and studied her as though she were an interesting puzzle. "I'll get straight to the point. What were you doing in my warehouse? And before you answer that, let me remind you that lying won't end well for you."
Elara tilted her head, the movement slow and deliberate still sent a jolt of pain in her head. "What do you think?" She asked, suppressing the groan so as not to show any weakness.
The boss's expression didn't falter. "You've got the training of a professional. The way you fight-it's not just instinct; it's the fruit of excessive training and experience. So, tell me. Are you a detective? Special forces? A reporter with a death wish, perhaps?
Elara's lips curled into a faint, humorless smile. "None of the above."
"None?" he echoed, chuckling as if she'd told a joke. He turned to his men. "You hear that? She's none of the above, yet she managed to leave five of you limping and take on fifteen more without dropping dead... I guess I might actually have been scammed if none of the above can take you on so easily."
The men shifted uncomfortably, but the boss waved them off and turned back to Elara, his tone became serious. "You say you're none of those things, but you're trained. That much is obvious. So, indulge me- what are you, then?"
For a moment, silence stretched between them. Elara's gaze didn't waver, but her mind raced as she weighed her options. Finally, she spoke, her voice quiet but firm.
"I was looking for someone."
The amusement in the man's eyes completely vanished this time, replaced by a sharpness that made the air in the room grow colder. He took another step closer, looming over her, and his voice dropped an octave. "So, you were sneaking around to find something? No... not something... someone."
Before he could press further, Elara's glare stopped him cold, her defiant eyes daring him to continue. For a brief moment, neither spoke, and the tension crackled like static.
The silence broke with a faint crackle from the man as he straightened. "You're bold, I'll give you that. Few people would meet my eyes with a stare like that in your situation." He adjusted his glasses, the sharpness in his gaze returned. "Tell me, then. Who is it you're looking for?"
Elara hesitated, her injuries throbbing as she shifted in her chair, the ropes binding her waist to the chair cut into her. Her voice remained steady. "That's my business."
The man raised an eyebrow, clearly intrigued by her audacity. "Saying it's your business after disrupting mine, isn't that a bit much?" Seeing Elara just glaring in response the man sighed "Your bravery is admirable, and your fighting spirit even more so. I'll make you a deal."
Elara's eyes narrowed. "A deal?"
He smiled, sharp and predatory. "You've made me lose quite a bit of money in such a short time. Five of my elites-no, calling them elites now, it will only be a shame to actual elites... men, five of my men are bedridden, and you've caused quite a commotion. So, here's my offer. I will let you have what- or whoever- you are looking for but, in exchange.."
Elara's brow furrowed at the pause. "What's the catch?"
"You work for me," he said simply, his tone almost casual. "I could use someone like you. Strong. Skilled. Unpredictable. You'd make a valuable asset."
Elara scoffed, the sound sharp despite her exhaustion. "Work for you? No in this lifetime."
The man smirked, his eyes glinting with something dark. "There must be a misunderstanding... You think you have a choice? Let me rephrase it for your better understanding. Work for me and I'll let you have whoever you were looking for, I might even help you find that person. Refuse and you won't get out of here alive. You see, there are fifteen people outside who are itching to have a go at you. I will let them in, how they want to have their go is totally up to them-"
Before he could continue or Elara react, a sudden commotion outside interrupted them. "What the hell is going on outside!!" the boss roared and the men guarding the door, bolted outside to check it. It seemed to Elara something serious had happened outside.
The man's eyes shifted from Elara to the door one by one, the commotion outside was only growing further. "Damn these bastards! They are going to gather a lot of unnecessary attention!"
The door swung open again, it was the brute this time, his eyes lingered on Elara for a fraction of a second before he turned to the boss, huffing loudly. "Sir, we need you!"
The boss frowned, his irritation increasing. "What is it? Why are you all making such a huge racket?"
"It's... it's urgent!" the man exclaimed through batted breaths.
Muttering a curse under his breath, he turned back to Elara, his gaze lingering on her for a moment longer. "This conversation is not over, take this time to come to a decision. Work for me or death."
With that, he turned and strode out of the room, the door slamming shut behind him, leaving Elara alone once more.
The muffled commotion outside seeped through the wooden walls, barely audible now over the relentless howl of the wind. Elara strained her ears, focusing on the distant voices. It wasn't just voices-there was a sharp clatter, followed by more panicked shouts.
Elara closed her eyes, blocking out the aching throb of her injuries as she concentrated. The rustling of leaves and the occasional creak of wood told her she wasn't in the city. The air was cooler, sharper, and the subtle scent of damp earth hinted at a jungle. They had brought her somewhere high, perhaps on a mountain, far from the concrete and chaos she was used to.
Her attention snapped back to the voices. Something about the vehicles... Damaged... She caught snippets of curses and hurried commands. An Animal? she thought, frowning. But the mountains near the city had no predators large enough to take out their vehicles.
Whatever it was, it had bought Elara time. Now that she was sure she wouldn't get anything from these people, she must get out of here. Staying here will only cost her her life.
Elara began tugging at the ropes on her left hand again. It had become significantly loose from her earlier tugging. Now, as the noise outside grew louder, she pulled at it, her breath shallow and deliberate to avoid detection.
Her fingers brushed against the frayed strands of the rope, and she suppressed a triumphant smile. But just as she felt the knot almost at the point of opening, the door flew open.
Elara stilled, her body tense.
The man who stepped inside halted. His violet-grey eyes locked onto hers with a piercing intensity that made her halt mid-motion. Recognition flared, followed swiftly by a surge of anger that sent a fresh wave of adrenaline coursing through her veins.
"You--" she began, her voice rising with fury, but he crossed the room in long, purposeful strides.
Before she could shout, his rough hand clamped over her mouth.
"Quite, you fool," he hissed, his voice low but sharp, like a blade slicing through the tension.