A sharp gasp broke the silence as Nailah jolted awake, her whole body aching. Rough bandages covered her wounds, done by someone with little medical skill. She blinked, trying to focus in the dim light.

  "Edwards!" she called, her voice shaky.

  No answer.

  The smell of smoke and decay filled the air. As her vision cleared, she saw she was in a narrow alley. The buildings around her were made of scrap metal and wood, barely holding together. Debris covered the ground, and a small fire flickered nearby, casting light on three ragged children huddled around it.

  “She’s awake!” a boy exclaimed.

  Nailah’s head throbbed as she struggled to sit up, her muscles stiff and uncooperative. She looked at the children warily.

  “Who are you? Where am I?”

  A boy, who seemed the most energetic of the trio, grinned and jabbed a thumb toward his chest. “I’m Tommy! That grumpy guy is Eric,” he said, gesturing to a boy with crossed arms and a scowl. “And this here is Olivia.” A timid little girl peeked from behind Tommy, her wide eyes full of curiosity.

  “You’re in Scrapville.”

  Scrapville?

  Nailah tried to steady her breathing. This alley she found herself in was nothing like the grand halls of Skyland.

  Tommy cocked his head and pointed at her. “Now, who are YOU?”

  Nailah opened her mouth, then hesitated. She was about to reveal her real name. Her name, her real name, could be dangerous here.

  “Nai—ne… Yup! My name is Naine. Like the number!” she blurted out, forcing a smile as she almost made grave mistake.

  Tommy let out a short laugh. “That’s a weird way to introduce yourself! You’re funny!”

  Eric snorted. “We thought you’d be rich since you were on a flying ship, but hell, you might be poorer than us!”

  Nailah clenched her jaw. “This kid has a sharp mouth,” she thought, glaring at him.

  Eric turned to Tommy. “Anyway, if she’s stayin’, we gotta report to the boss.”

  “Yeah, sorry, Naine,” Tommy said, rubbing the back of his head.

  Nailah frowned. “What boss?”

  “The Crimson Bandits,” Tommy explained. “Scrapville’s a dump. No guards, no hospitals, no schools, no lords… just them. They run everything.”

  “They’re the law here,” Eric added. “They sell medicine, books, all kinds of stuff.”

  Nailah narrowed her eyes. “And you have to report to them?”

  Tommy shrugged. “Everyone who stays has to pay ‘taxes.’”

  Nailah swallowed hard. She had lost Edwards. She was alone in an unfamiliar place. But she couldn’t afford to wallow in despair.

  “I have to survive,” she reminded herself. “It’s the reason why he gave up his life! I won’t let his sacrifice be in vain!”

  Her mind searched for options. “Kenny! Of course! He’ll help me without a doubt!”

  She turned to the kids. “Have you heard of the Bakare family? They were deported from Skyland.”

  Eric frowned. “You mean the aristos who died in that horsomobile accident a few months ago? No survivors.”

  Nailah’s heart stopped. Her blood ran cold.

  “Huh? What did you say?”

  “The Bakare family,” Eric repeated, as if it were common knowledge. “They all died.”

  Nailah’s hands trembled. Kenny… Not you, too…!

  She turned around to hide her sad expression and bit her lip, willing the tears away.

  A voice interrupted. “So, is she plannin’ on stayin’ or not?”

  A young man stepped forward, his presence commanding. He had a laid-back but watchful air about him, as if he was always sizing up the people around him.

  “She hasn’t answered yet,” Eric replied.

  Nailah clenched her fists.

  “If there are no guards, knights, or laws… this might be the safest place to lay low.”

  She forced a small nod. “I’ll be staying… for now.”

  The man sighed. “That’s what everybody says. Well, follow me. I’ll take you to our boss.”

  As she walked behind him, her mind felt heavier than her body. “I’ve lost everyone. I’m alone… All alone.”

  Scrapville was unlike anything she had ever seen. Groups of men crouched around makeshift tables, throwing dice and laughing raucously. The houses barely resembled homes, more like piles of debris held together by sheer will. In the alleyways, figures huddled in the shadows, their eyes hollow and lost, intoxicated by whatever substance they had found to escape reality.

  Sick people lay on the ground, their bodies frail, their ribs showing through thin skin. Starving children wandered aimlessly, their bellies sunken with hunger.

  Nailah’s chest tightened. I don’t remember the Lowlands well… but was it ever this bad?

  Finally, they stopped in front of a rundown warehouse. The man knocked on the door.

  A voice from the other side asked, "Who is it?"

  "It’s me," the man answered.

  The door creaked open, revealing a room packed with Crimson Bandits. At the center, sitting atop a wooden box like a throne, was Damon. A dark-skinned man with a menacing face, he wore a worn-out jacket over an unbuttoned shirt, showing off his muscular chest. A machete rested on his back. The sides of his head were shaved close, leaving a flat-top mohawk in the middle, giving him a rebellious and untamed look.

  Damon’s eyes flicked to Nailah. "Zeke? Who the fuck is this?"

  Zeke gestured towards her. "Got a new girl who wants to live here."

  Nailah stepped forward. "Hello, I’m Naine—"

  Damon cut her off with a sneer. "Hey! Listen, bitch! If I don’t ask you to speak, you shut the fuck up! Got it?"

  Nailah swallowed hard and nodded.

  He leaned in, studying her. "Were you on that crashed ship?"

  "Yes."

  "Where are you from?"

  "Lochland, the neighboring country."

  Stolen from its rightful place, this narrative is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.

  His eyes narrowed. "Why did you leave? And why did your ship crash?"

  Nailah hesitated for a moment before replying, "Pirates attacked. They made my ship crash.

  Damon leaned back, unconvinced. "Hmm… She’s lying."

  Nailah’s heart pounded.

  Damon turned to Zeke. "Oi! Your brother Eric found her, right? What do you think?"

  Zeke shrugged. "Honestly? Everyone in the slums is either hidin’ something or runnin’ from someone. Who cares? Let her stay."

  Damon let out a loud breath. "I guess you’re right."

  He spread his arms. "Welcome to Scrapville. Hope you can get 50 Radiexes by the end of the month."

  Nailah’s stomach dropped. "By the end of the month?! But I don’t have a job! How am I supposed to—"

  A blade pressed against her neck. Damon’s smirk was cruel. "Excuses already? If you want to be alive by next month, make sure you have the money. Now, I suggest you start job hunting."

  Nailah forced a smile. "Yes! I will!"

  Later, as she was led to her new residence, her thoughts swirled. These bandits are frightening! I must make sure I pay them!

  Then she scoffed. Why am I stressing? 50 Radiexes is nothing! That’s not even a pourboire in Skyland.

  Her smugness faded at the sight of her new home, a crumbling shack. Inside, she found Tommy, Olivia, and two others, Cindy and Rose.

  "Wait… all five of us? In this tiny room?!" she blurted.

  Tommy chuckled. "Yeah! And we’re lucky! Some people got seven or eight in a room."

  Olivia added, "You act like you’ve never lived in the Lowlands before."

  Nailah fumbled. "No, it’s just… in my last room, we were four."

  "Lucky you," Olivia muttered.

  Nailah hesitated before asking, "Where can I find a job?"

  Cindy scoffed. "There are no jobs in Scrapville. You have to go to Sihampton. I think there’s a potter looking for workers."

  Nailah clenched her fists. This is my new reality… but I will survive!

  Sihampton, a gloomy town in the Lowlands, was miserable but still better than Scrapville. The streets were lined with crumbling buildings, and the air smelled of clay and soot from the factories.

  Nailah stood among the crowd of new workers, blending in with their tired faces.

  A stout man with a harsh expression stepped forward. "Starting today, I’m your boss!" he barked. "I expect efficiency! Your pay depends on how much pottery you make! And if someone falls behind, we all suffer! If I lose money, you lose money!"

  His sharp gaze scanned the workers before he turned. "Now, follow me. I’ll show you your jobs!"

  As they walked, he suddenly stopped and pointed his finger at Nailah. "You! What’s your name?"

  She straightened up and answered, "I’m Naine, sir!"

  He nodded and gestured to a table where several women were hard at work. "Naine, you’ll be on clay prep duty. Your colleagues will show you the ropes."

  An old woman nearby motioned her over. "After weighing the clay, you must wedge it and turn it into a ball," she explained. "It’s important that they’re all the same weight and size, or else the final product will be useless."

  "Okay!" Nailah said, nodding earnestly.

  The woman’s expression turned serious. "Let’s get to work now! We must make a clay ball every forty-five seconds to earn a decent wage!"

  "Yes, ma’am!" Nailah replied, but as she began, her movements were hesitant. Her hands pressed into the clay, kneading it awkwardly, struggling to keep pace.

  "You’re not nearly fast enough!" the old woman barked.

  "I’m trying!" Nailah gritted her teeth, frustration creeping in.

  Before she could improve, the Master Potter loomed over her, holding up one of her poorly formed clay balls. His face twisted in irritation. "What is this?! That’s another piece of clay wasted!"

  Nailah’s heart sank. "I’m sorry, sir… I’m trying my best!"

  "Well, your best is shit!" he snapped. "At this rate, we’ll make far less pottery than usual… Naine, come with me. I’ll reassign you."

  He led her to a different section of the factory, where trays of finished pottery waited. "I want you to take these to the storage room in the back!"

  "Yes, sir!" she said, lifting a tray stacked with delicate ceramics. The weight surprised her, making her arms wobble.

  As she moved, her foot caught on a loose stone. "Ah—!" She stumbled. The tray tilted. Then, in a sickening instant, the pottery crashed to the floor, shattering into countless pieces.

  A heavy silence followed.

  Nailah winced, slowly looking up to see the Master Potter’s face contort in fury.

  "Oops…" she muttered weakly with an awkward smile.

  "GET OUT! YOU’RE FIRED!" he shouted.

  A few days later, Nailah wandered the streets of Sihampton, her stomach aching with hunger. She had desperately searched for another job, but word of her clumsiness had spread like wildfire. No one would hire her. Each rejection chipped away at what little hope she had left.

  She had hit rock bottom. Not long ago, she was the chosen successor of the prestigious Pristine Company, determined to take it to new heights. Now, she was nothing more than a starving girl, searching for scraps just to survive.

  Her legs trembled as she stumbled into a narrow alley. "I must find a job…" she murmured. "I haven’t eaten since that day…"

  Her foot caught on a garbage can, sending her tumbling to the ground. As she groaned, something tumbled out a half-eaten apple. However the hunger tricked her into seeing a brand-new apple instead. Her eyes widened. "Lucky!" Without hesitation, she snatched it up and took a bite out of the half-eaten apple.

  "Look at that!" A sneering voice cut through the air.

  Nailah froze. A group of men approached, led by a towering brute with a cruel smirk.

  "She’s eating from the trash! Pathetic!" Carson jeered, his gang laughing behind him. Carson was tall, bald, and built like a tank. His muscles strained against his shirt, as if the fabric might tear at any moment. A beret sat atop his head, and a scarf rested loosely around his neck.

  Nailah tensed. She recognized their red scarves, they were Crimson Bandits. Damon’s men.

  Carson shook his head mockingly. "You know… You should be looking for a job. We expect your money tomorrow!"

  Desperation tightened in Nailah’s chest. "I’m sorry, but can I ask for an extension? I’ll pay interest if you want!"

  Carson sighed theatrically. "Damon was sure you’d ask that… He told me if you did—"

  Before she could react, his fist crashed into her face, sending her sprawling onto the cobblestones. Pain exploded in her jaw.

  "I was to punch the living hell out of you!" Carson spat.

  A slap followed. Then a kick to her ribs. Nailah curled up, gasping as her vision blurred.

  Carson crouched beside her, his voice dropping to a chilling whisper as he pulled her hair to bring her face closer. "This is just a taste of what awaits you tomorrow if you can’t pay. And believe me… Damon will make money off you one way or another."

  She could only watch as they strode away, leaving her battered and trembling in the filth.

  Back at her cramped apartment, Nailah found her roommates in no better shape. Rose and Cindy nursed their own bruises while Tommy and Olivia did their best to help.

  Tommy’s face darkened when he saw her. "You too?!"

  "Yeah… A huge guy attacked me," she muttered.

  Rose grimaced. "That was Muscular Carson. He’s one of Damon’s most trusted men."

  Cindy groaned. "He came after us too when we asked for more time. We don’t have enough money."

  Nailah slumped against the wall, feeling the weight of despair press down on her. "Now, nobody will hire me. Even if I found a job tomorrow, I wouldn’t make enough to pay Damon or the rent. At this rate… they’ll kill us!"

  Rose sighed. "It’s a complicated situation we’re in."

  "I know, right?" Nailah ran a hand through her tangled hair. "What should we do?"

  Cindy’s voice was barely a whisper. "The only way to keep a roof over your head and avoid the Crimson Bandits… is the workhouse."

  The room fell silent. Tommy stiffened. "I’ve been there before… when my parents started using Grey Ash. That place is horrible."

  "I’d rather not go there!" Rose declared. "I’ll figure something out."

  Cindy hesitated before nodding. "That’s the only place protected by guards. The Crimson Bandits wouldn’t attack us there… but that place is too horrible. I think I’ll pass too."

  Nailah exhaled slowly, her mind made up. "Looks like I don’t have a choice."

  She turned to her roommates, eyes filled with determination. "I know we don’t know each other well, but I want to thank you all for your help. I’ll repay you someday. I promise."

  The morning sun cast a dull light over Sihampton as Nailah stood before the looming gates of the workhouse, her stomach twisting in anxiety.

  She took a deep breath and stepped forward.

  Meanwhile, far away on the shore, where the wreckage of Nailah's past lay scattered, a shadowy figure strolled along the sand. Harlow’s sharp eyes scanned the debris, her lips curving into a smirk.

  "There’s something off about that new girl…" she murmured. "I’m sure whatever it is… it could be lucrative."