"The smallest beam of light piercing through the smallest hole, is all the hope you need." I could still hear his voice whispering through my head. It was never loud; never harsh. It was soft and pleasing to the ear. What would be expected as crude yelling and correction came only in the form of wisdom and guidence. Sometimes you forget the meaning of hope when all you see is smoke and ash. 

"Get up! Move!"

   Thinking isn't a luxury that you can afford here. The crackling of a whip near your feet was a sound all too familiar. If that didn't get your attention, you'd be introduced to another..this one a bit too close for comfort. One year, six months, two weeks, and three days. It's kind of funny. I count the hours as if there was a release day. 
   
   I raise my head slowly. It's hard to see further than a few feet, when all you can make out are blurred figures behind a wall of dust. The clanging of metal on rock reverberated through your ears day in and day out. Sweat trickled through the cracks beneath our feet, and the musky odor of despair filled our noses. You stop crying after a few weeks, sobs replaced with silence.

   This was no place for people like us. We had homes and families. We had smiles and laughter. We were safe. Now..all that we have is this; a staff of wood and iron. 

"You are not here to wonder. You're here to work!" 

  The sharp pain of rusted hands through my hair intensified as I was pulled to my feet. I drop my pickaxe. Even above the sound of metal on rock, I managed to bring attention to myself as if I were the only one there. The tool was shoved forcefully back into my arms. Everyone gazed at me like I was a monster. A crowd of sad eyes that screamed for me to spare myself anymore discipline.

   I looked back at the man that towered over me. Ironclad jarheads was the only name I could think of to describe them. How cold of a heart must you have? How peacefully do you sleep at night? Thoughts were better than words at this very moment; a battle of who could stare the other down the best. He gripped his whip tighter. It had been quite a while since the sting of leather met my skin. I dare not take the chance.

   I take the wooden axe into my hand, raising it slowly over my head, bringing it down upon the ground as sparks flew.  He let out a satisfied grunt, walking away in victory. It took alot to hold composure. Even back in the old days I was a lot to handle. Steadfast and headstrong gets you places, but here it only gets you lashes and an empty stomach for the day. As much skin and bone as I was, I forfeited the chance of revenge for the cold gruel that awaited us. Truth is...I was scared. 

  I glance over, staring at the horizon. It's dark orange glow mesmerized me, and frightened me at the same time. None of us are here by happenstance. We're here because they needed us. Snatched from beds and homes as our loved ones watched their baby girl disappear into the smoke. This is my home now; brought to serve, destined to die. 

Alara!, he shouted.  

Damn. I think too much.

-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------