Horse Eden : Chapter Two /!\

January 8, 2025 09:43 PM

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The hours passed in a blur, the heavy silence of the cell pressing down on Gale like a weight. His body ached from the poison, his mind swirled with the lingering aftereffects of the torture. But his resolve was still intact—he was still fighting. Or at least, he tried to be.

He sat against the cold stone wall, knees drawn up to his chest, hands wrapped around his shins as if it could somehow protect him from the darkness that had seeped into every corner of his soul. He tried to focus on something, anything, that could help him forget the relentless ache, the hunger gnawing at his insides, the emptiness that had taken hold of him.

But then the door opened again, and the guards were back.

This time, it wasn’t the indifferent guard who had come earlier. It was two of them, large and broad, their armor clanging as they entered the cell. They didn’t say anything. They didn’t need to. Their actions spoke volumes.

Gale didn’t resist when they grabbed him, hauling him to his feet with rough hands. His body screamed in protest, but he couldn’t do anything to stop them. The poison still coursed through his veins, robbing him of strength and clarity. They dragged him through the dim hallway, past other cells where the faint sound of muffled cries and groans reverberated off the stone walls.

They brought him into the throne room—a sterile, cold space where the oppressive weight of power hung like a shadow over everything. The King sat on his throne, his eyes cold and unblinking as he regarded Gale. The throne room was grand, full of tapestries and silver candelabras, but to Gale, it was nothing more than a gilded cage.

Gale was shoved roughly onto the stone floor in front of the King, and as his limbs were fastened down, he barely flinched. His mind was fogged, his body sore and weak. But he wouldn’t give them the satisfaction of seeing him broken. Not yet.

The King’s gaze settled on him, and the air seemed to grow even colder as he stepped down from the throne. His voice, though soft, carried the weight of command.

"You know why you're here," the King said, his tone almost too casual, as if they were discussing matters of trivial importance. "You think you're strong, that you can resist. But you should know by now, Gale, there’s only so much a man can endure before he breaks."

Gale didn’t respond. His mouth was dry, his mind numb. But even in his weakened state, something within him resisted the urge to speak. He wouldn’t give the King the satisfaction of hearing his voice.

The King circled him like a predator, his eyes never leaving Gale. "I’ve been patient with you," he continued, his voice growing colder, sharper. "But you’re a stubborn one, aren’t you? Every time I think you’ll crack, you show me more defiance. I admire that... but it’s only a matter of time before your spirit fades."

Before Gale could even react, the King raised his hand. The guards moved swiftly, strapping him to the executioner’s chair that stood near the King’s throne. The tools on the table beside him glinted in the torchlight, and Gale knew what was coming next. His stomach churned at the thought, but he refused to show fear.

"Perhaps a new approach will help you understand the reality of your situation," the King mused, his voice taking on a cruel edge. "Pain... can be a powerful motivator."

The King didn’t speak again. He simply signaled for the guards to begin.

And the pain came.

It started slowly, with a sharp, piercing sensation in Gale’s chest. His body tensed as he fought to suppress the scream building in his throat, but it was futile. The King watched with detached interest as the guards worked, using a variety of tools, their precision meant to break Gale, physically and mentally. The poison still clouded his thoughts, and every time his mind started to drift, another strike, another burn, brought him back into the agonizing reality.

Through the haze of pain, Gale couldn’t help but think of the girl—the kindness she had shown him before. Her face flashed through his mind, and for a moment, a sense of warmth surged within him, followed quickly by guilt. He should have trusted her more, should have tried harder to escape. The thought of her, the gentleness she offered, made his chest tighten, but that same surge of emotion ignited something darker within him.

And in that instant, something inside Gale snapped.

His body, wracked with pain, convulsed with a strength he hadn’t known he had left. His muscles twitched, then tensed with a raw force. He jerked against his restraints, the agony intensifying, but he fought through it. His vision blurred, and he could feel the blood dripping down from his wounds, but none of it mattered.

"I’m not breaking," he growled, his voice hoarse and ragged, barely above a whisper, but it carried a dangerous promise.

The King stopped, his expression one of mild surprise, but not fear. "Impressive," he said, almost admiring the resolve. "But resolve doesn't last when it's crushed under the weight of your own body. We’ll see how long you last."

Another wave of pain crashed into Gale, but this time, he embraced it. Each strike fueled the fury building inside him, the anger, the hatred, the refusal to let the King claim even one piece of his soul. As the interrogation continued, Gale’s defiance became his armor, harder and more unyielding with every blow.

It felt like hours—maybe even days—before the King finally stepped back, his voice laced with disappointment. "It’s a shame. You were an interesting one, Gale. But all things break in the end."

The King signaled for the guards to take Gale back to his cell, and the cold stone of the dungeon welcomed him once again. This time, however, Gale was different. His body was battered and broken, his head throbbing, but the fire in his chest burned hotter than ever.

The guards shoved him back into the cell, and he collapsed against the floor, gasping for breath. His body screamed in agony, but his mind was clear. The King had failed. He hadn’t broken him. Gale could still feel the fire within him, unshaken, unfazed.

The days blurred by in a haze of pain and recovery, but each day, Gale fought to grow stronger. His body healed, little by little, but his spirit never wavered. He had seen what the King was capable of, and though it had hurt, it hadn’t defeated him.

And now, Gale was ready. Ready to take back everything they had taken from him.

When the door opened again, Gale was waiting.

Before the guards could react, he exploded into action—his body moving despite the pain, his fists flying. The first guard crumpled with a punch to the jaw. The second was sent crashing into the wall, knocked unconscious by a vicious blow to the temple. Gale’s body felt like it might give out at any moment, but the fire inside him burned so brightly that it gave him strength he didn’t know he had.

The cell had been his prison, but now, it was his battleground. And Gale was done being a victim.

Done being broken.

He would break them first.

January 8, 2025 09:47 PM

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Kayla stood as they brought him back, moving out of their way. As soon as Gale started moving, she smirked. He had a resiliant spirit and she admired that about him. She watched as he took the two guards out and fear slightly coursed through her as he turned.

January 8, 2025 09:55 PM

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Gale’s body was still trembling with adrenaline, his fists bloodied, his breath ragged as he stood over the collapsed guards. The room around him seemed to pulse with an almost violent energy, as if the very stone walls were reverberating with the tension he’d unleashed. His chest rose and fell with each labored breath, his heart hammering against his ribs as the last of his fury slowly began to settle into something colder, sharper.

But then, just as he thought the storm might pass, his eyes flicked to the doorway.

There she was. The girl.

Standing in the threshold, her face pale, eyes wide with fear. She was still there—still watching him—her gaze frozen on him like a deer caught in the headlights. It hit him like a physical blow. The raw emotion that had driven him to fight, to tear through the guards, flared up again, but this time, it wasn’t just anger. It was something more complex, something darker, that surged inside him.

The rage in his chest turned molten, like liquid fire coursing through his veins, and his eyes blazed as they locked onto her.

He had done this. He had brought her into this—this madness, this hell that he’d been fighting to survive in. And the fury inside him, as mad as a bull, turned towards that helpless, frightened look on her face. It was as if everything—the King’s tortures, the guards’ cruelty, the years of suffering—was focused into that single moment. The thought that she had seen him like this, that she had witnessed his anger, his violence… it shattered something inside him.

But it wasn’t just the fury. It was a new kind of rage now—a burning, consuming need to protect her. To make sure she didn’t suffer because of him. The guilt clawed at him, gnawing at his insides like acid. How had it come to this? He wanted to shout, wanted to roar, to make them all pay for dragging her into this nightmare.

His fists tightened, the tendons in his arms straining with the effort of holding back.

Gale stood there for a moment, his breath shallow, his vision narrowing with a single, primal thought: I can’t let her see this. Not like this.

And in that instant, he made a decision. His fury, that raw, untamed fury that had almost consumed him, shifted. Instead of letting it drown him in regret or self-loathing, he channeled it—focused it with deadly precision. He was going to make sure that she was safe. He would make sure she never had to see him like this again.

But not yet. Not until the King paid.

Gale’s eyes, still burning with the remnants of rage, flicked toward the guards’ bodies littering the floor. He was still in pain—his body was torn apart, his limbs heavy with exhaustion—but that didn’t matter. What mattered was that she was still standing there, looking at him as though she couldn’t understand who he had become in that moment. And that realization ignited a fury even fiercer than the one before.

He turned away from her, his face set, jaw clenched tight as he moved towards the door. His movements were deliberate, his anger focused, his entire being a tightly coiled spring of violence.

Gale reached the door. His breath was slow now, measured, controlled. The madness still burned in his chest, but it was tempered by something else—something stronger. He wasn’t done yet.

He wasn’t broken. And he wasn’t going to let anyone else break her either.

He turned his head back to her then, his gaze intense, but his expression was different now—sharper, colder, a flicker of something dangerous behind his eyes.

"Get out of here," he rasped, his voice rough from exertion, still strained. "I don't care how or where you end up,get away from here."

His words were a vow. A vow born out of everything that had happened, everything that had brought them to this point. The fury still smoldered in his eyes, but now it was harnessed, directed. And though the road ahead was uncertain, one thing was clear: Gale would do anything—anything—to torment the king back.

The King had made a mistake. The King had underestimated him.

And Gale,chest heaving,breath heavy,and as mad as a bull, would make him regret it.

January 8, 2025 10:13 PM

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Kayla nodded, taking a shaky breath. As she began walking away, she stopped and turned to him again. "Be safe." She stated, not asking. She darted back upstairs

January 8, 2025 10:19 PM

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Gale’s chest heaved as the adrenaline continued to surge through him. The anger, the violence—it was still burning, but now, it was focused. He wasn’t done yet. Not by a long shot.

With a final glance at the girl, still standing at the door, his resolve hardened. He turned away, heading for the weaponry. Every step was a reminder of how close he was to breaking free.

The hallways were silent, save for the distant sounds of guards recovering. He needed to move fast.

Reaching the weapons cache, Gale grabbed his bow with a quick, practiced motion. The familiar weight of it felt right in his hands—comforting, despite the blood still staining his fingers. He grabbed a quiver of arrows next, slinging it across his back before his eyes darted around the room for something else.

A long, black cloak. It was hanging on a nearby rack, dark and heavy, its fabric almost swallowing the light. It would do. Without hesitation, he draped it over his shoulders, the material falling to the floor and popping against his bare chest. It was a sharp contrast to the blood that marred his skin, but it felt like armor.

He was ready.

With a final glance toward the door—toward her—he moved swiftly, the cloak billowing behind him. No more hesitation. The King had pushed him too far. Gale would take him down, one way or another.

And if they thought he was broken, they were about to learn just how wrong they were.

January 8, 2025 10:34 PM

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Kayla watched him leave and wished he didn't have to. He seemed like someone she'd want to get to know, but she didn't speak anymore as he left. She sighed and walked upstairs, a couple curious glances being thrown her way once more before she walked to her room. It was dark inside of it, but she didn't care. She curled up on her bed and closed her eyes, but her mind kept circling back to the man. Gale.

January 8, 2025 10:38 PM

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Gale’s heart hammered in his chest as he moved swiftly through the darkened halls, his footsteps silent, his bow ready. The weight of the cloak hung heavily on his shoulders, but it felt right, like a second skin. The air was thick with tension, but it only fueled his resolve. He wasn’t stopping. Not now.

The guards would be everywhere soon, but he was already past their patrols. The path to the central tower was clear, and nothing—not the poison still coursing through his veins, not the exhaustion dragging at his limbs—was going to stop him. Not after what they’d done to him. Not after everything he’d endured.

As he neared the stairs leading up to the tower, Gale’s eyes narrowed. Two guards stood at the top, watching the door to the King’s chambers. They didn’t see him yet, but that would change soon. The bow in his hands felt like an extension of his body—calm, controlled, precise.

He didn’t hesitate.

One fluid motion, and the first arrow flew. It sank into the first guard’s chest before he could even react. Gale barely heard the thud of the body hitting the ground before he was drawing another arrow, loosing it with deadly accuracy at the second guard. This one went down faster, the arrow piercing his throat.

They were no threat. They were nothing.

Gale didn’t waste a second. He was already moving past them, his fingers quick to retrieve his arrows as he approached the thick, wooden door that separated him from his target. He paused only briefly to listen for any sounds of movement inside. The silence was deafening, the castle holding its breath, as if it knew what was coming.

He didn’t knock. Didn’t announce himself.

The door opened with a single, brutal push. It swung wide, revealing the King’s private chamber—a room filled with tapestries of battles long past, a desk cluttered with maps and reports, and a throne at the far end that was nothing more than a symbol of power.

The King was there, standing by the window, his back to Gale. The moment was perfect—too perfect. The King hadn’t heard him yet, hadn’t even turned around. His arrogance was palpable.

Gale’s breath caught in his throat as he pulled another arrow from his quiver. He’d been waiting for this. Waiting for this moment. His eyes locked on the King’s figure, the target he’d been dreaming of taking down for so long.

But Gale didn’t shoot. Not yet.

The King was unaware of the storm coming for him, but Gale wasn’t just some helpless prisoner anymore. He wasn’t the broken man who had been dragged through this castle’s halls and thrown into that cell.

He was a weapon now.

Gale’s lips twisted into a cold, almost bitter smile.

“I’ve come for you,” he said, his voice low but clear, filled with the weight of the promise.

The King stiffened at the sound of his voice, slowly turning to face him, his eyes narrowing in disbelief.

“You,” the King sneered, his hand twitching toward the sword at his side.

Gale didn’t give him the chance. The bowstring twanged, the arrow flying faster than the King could react, striking the sword in his hand and sending it flying from his grip. The King’s expression faltered for the briefest moment, but his arrogance didn’t fade.

“Did you think you could kill me?” the King growled, his voice full of venom.

Gale didn’t answer. He notched another arrow, eyes cold and unwavering.

“I don’t think it,” Gale said, his voice a lethal whisper. “I know it.”

January 8, 2025 10:40 PM

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Kayla kept replaying his rebutle against the guards over and over in her mind and didn't feel fearful anymore. She felt....admiration for him. He was brave, challenging in such a way. She slowly slipped into sleep, thinking about him

January 8, 2025 10:43 PM

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Gale’s bow was taut, the arrow aimed directly at the King’s chest. Every muscle in his body was screaming, his pulse hammering as the final moments stretched on. The weight of his vengeance, the years of torment and pain, were all culminating in this one moment. The King stood before him, unaware of the storm about to break.

But then, just before Gale could release the arrow, his mind flickered back to her.

The girl.

The words came out before he could stop them, a soft mutter, almost lost in the charged air of the chamber.

“I’ll make sure she’s safe…”

It was a promise he didn’t fully understand, not in that moment. But the intent was clear, and it was enough to momentarily slow his movements.

The King noticed, his eyes narrowing in confusion, a small, mocking chuckle escaping him. “What are you mumbling about now, prisoner? Who—”

But before the King could finish, Gale’s expression hardened again. His lips tightened, jaw clenched, and without a moment’s hesitation, his hand released the string.

The arrow shot through the air in a blur, striking the King in the shoulder with a sickening thud. The King staggered back, eyes wide with shock, his hand instinctively reaching for the wound.

“You—!” The King started, but the words were cut short by the pain.

Gale was already moving forward, his bowstring pulled again, another arrow notched in place. The rage inside him wasn’t just for the King anymore; it was for everything he had endured. And for the things that were still to come.

“You’ve been too comfortable,” Gale spat, his voice cold and final.

The King’s eyes burned with fury, but his confidence was slipping, the blood from his shoulder staining his fine robes. He was beginning to realize just how much of a mistake it had been to underestimate Gale.

“I’m not finished yet,” Gale said, low and dangerous, the words hanging in the air like a promise.

He wasn’t just here for revenge anymore. He was here to make sure the King understood what it meant to truly be powerless.

The tension in the room thickened, and Gale, without another word, pulled back the bowstring once more, preparing for whatever came next. His mission was clear. And this time, nothing would stop him.

January 8, 2025 10:46 PM