Chapter 2

TWO

Agroan echoed through the cavernous chamber as Barrett sloshed the sudsy water, scrubbing the stained floors of his stepfather"s hall. Each sweep of the brush over helplessly dirty stone was punctuated by the sighing of the wind, as if even the air shared in his weariness.

Barrett stood alone in the great hall of the giant"s castle - though it more often felt like a damn villain"s lair. His chest heaved as he tried to force himself to work through the dense humidity that sat on his chest like a boulder.

He could practically taste the fear and despair that permeated every corner of this dark domain. It coated his tongue like bitterness at the back of his throat. Even the smallest movements felt laborious under the watchful gaze of grotesque tapestries depicting giants" triumphs and humans" plights. It didn"t matter that they sat as high in the sky as his own true kingdom, the giant"s domain was cloaked with death and darkness.

This was his punishment for not accepting the marriage proposal his captor shoved at him. He would never marry a woman – giant or otherwise, but especially not a giant. It didn't matter that his magic allowed him to grow items at will.

With trembling fingers, Barrett lifted a brush to continue his chores, determined not to give the man who stole him another reason to torment him further.

Dust motes danced in shafts of sunlight filtering through grimy windows and cast eerie shadows across the marble floor—a stark contrast to the warmth and light he remembered from his childhood home. Unbidden memories flashed before his eyes.

Sumptuous feasts.

Royal pageantry.

Laughter echoing through the halls.

It pained him to think about what could have been if not for the fateful night when his kingdom was invaded by giants. Giants who, for some reason, did nothing more than destroy some land and steal him away to this godforsaken palace.

When he closed his eyes, the memories always came to haunt him. Of giants stomping across the land, shaking it with more force than should have been possible. The burnt umber of fire would fill his nose in the dream, and then nothingness swallowed him whole because he"d not been awake by the time the giants stole him.

Every day he woke up with the same vision in his mind only to be disappointed— his old bedchamber in his father"s castle, the scent of lavender and roses from his mother"s rose garden seeping through the silk sheets. Now all he had was straw and stone, and the rancid breath of his stepfather lingering in the air.

The routine was wearing thin. Like a piece of rough fabric rubbing against raw skin, the day to day as a servant prince of a land he didn"t belong in hurt. He longed for something more—something wild and untamed that would set him free from this dreary life.

A memory tugged at him—a memory of home—and he couldn"t help but wonder what lay beyond those clouds hovering just beyond his grasp. Couldn't help but think just how far his home would be if he started to run. But even as he dreamt, he knew he couldn"t ignore reality for long. The giant who called himself his father was watching him like a hawk, always ready to pounce on any signs of rebellion or resistance.

The giant never gave a reason for what he did. He treated Barrett like a possession, a gift he received not stole.

Setting the mop back in the bucket, Barrett held it tight as he bent to grab the metal handle.

"Next room," he grumbled.

The rhythm of Barrett"s footsteps echoed through the dank and dreary cell he called home, his heart heavy with frustration for yet another day spent trapped.

One darkened corner of his mind whispered that there must be more to life than this, that dreams and ambition could still flourish if he could only get home.

His bare feet sank into the cold stone floor, each step marking off another lap in his agitated pacing. The torches flickered like living things, casting shadows that danced and writhed around him, while the walls seemed to close in tighter with every turn.

Escaping this suffocating existence was all Barrett could think about—returning to his kingdom, reunited with his true family, who waited on the other side of the clouds.

Amidst the quiet murmur of his steps, Barrett"s gaze drifted upwards to where the beams of sunlight peeked through a high barred window, casting diamond dust across the floor.

The stench of damp earth mixed with cooking food off in the kitchens filled his nostrils, as it always did at this time of day. He stopped mid-step, hand trembling slightly as he held onto the magical ring hidden beneath his threadbare tunic.

Its warmth seeped into his skin, reminding him there were powers yet undiscovered in this world beneath the clouds. He took a deep breath, tasting on the back of his tongue memories of sunlit meadows and fresh mountain air.

His eyes sparkled at thoughts of what could be back home. Of the castles towering over verdant hills, and sky-whales soaring above. Of bards weaving stories about heroes who rose above their circumstances, and most importantly. . .freedom.

"Barrett!"

The giant"s voice thundered through the stone halls, causing the very foundations of the castle to shake with each syllable. The shout echoed off the walls and shook dust off the centuries old cobwebs dangling in the air in the corners.

Barrett swallowed hard, his heart racing as he turned to face his tormentor. A mountain of a man towered over him, leering with knuckles white as he gripped a rusty lock poker menacingly. He didn't wear his battle armor, but it did little to hide the imposing beast he was.

"Hurry up with that mopping. It"s not going to finish itself!" The giant appeared on the final word, his imposing form never failing to make Barrett take a step back.

The giant was a monolithic figure, towering over Barrett even in his adulthood. His massive hands were as big as ax-heads and they flexed and unflexed as if readying for a grip on prey. The stale beer poured out as the creature breathed, leftovers from the giant"s revelry last night.

Sunlight streamed in from high barred windows, casting the beast"s shadow across the cold stone floor like a dark stain.

He wore armor made from bones and leather and adorned swords and shields - trophies from his past conquests swords. Even the gnarled horn from some unknown creature hung ominously from his belt. Once thought to be elegantly crafted, now it was marred by dirt and age.

The giant stepped closer to Barrett, lifting an eyebrow expectantly as he scrutinized every movement.

"Come now, boy," the giant growled slowly as Barrett steeled himself for another day of servitude under this brute"s watchful eye. "We both know you shouldn"t keep your stepfather waiting."

Barrett clutched his heart at the word "stepfather", feeling bile rise in his throat every time it passed those giant lips. This man had claimed him as family since he was taken so long ago; it was an insult to anyone who knew better. With calculated steps, he moved towards the bucket of water sitting near a puddle on the ground - their only source for cleaning supplies down here below ground. He could hear chatter above, giants going about their day terrorizing another land.

Stifling a moan, he only dared to let out a hushed breath of frustration. "Yes, Father. Almost finished," he replied with deference that tasted like ash on his tongue. When he didn"t call the giant that, the man often flew into a fit of rage.

"This isn"t at the pace I expect from you," the giant grumbled, his voice a deep tremor. "You"ve been slacking, Boy. Don"t think I don"t notice. Be grateful I took you in after your mother"s passing."

The mention of his mother tightened Barrett"s grip on the brush, his knuckles tinged white. His mother didn't pass. The giant killed her during the attack. "I am grateful, Father," he lied, every syllable dripping with a resignation that had become second nature.

The giant"s footsteps, as loud as thunder, heralded his departure, leaving Barrett to his task and his thoughts. The emptiness of the great hall echoed with the distant peals of laughter from the giant"s minions, the raucous amusement making Barrett"s heart ache for freedom.

Alone again, Barrett allowed himself a slither of hope, a dangerous whisper within him stirring. "One day," he breathed to the walls, who knew his pain far too well, "someone will come for me, someone who sees me as more than just a mere servant or a forgotten prince. Don't let your mind wander to foolish fantasies," he chided himself, the rhythmic splash of water an unkind reminder of his reality.

A cool draft swept through the chamber, and Barrett shivered, the chill reaching into his very soul. Clutching the aquamarine ring on his right hand—a gift from his late mother—he whispered a plea into the darkness. "Help me find a way out."

Just as the final sentence fell from his lips, the ground shook with a quake that was not of this realm. Barrett paused, his heart thudding in his chest. Was this a sign, a response to his prayer?

Then, as quickly as it came, the moment passed, leaving Barrett with nothing but the silent stone and his ever-present longing for a life beyond the clouds.

He resumed scrubbing, a chorus of sobs hidden in the swish of the brush, and the rhythmic beat of his trapped heart.

Thump. Thump. Thump.

"There must be more than this," Barrett muttered to himself. "There has to be. . ."

"Talking to yourself again, Boy?" The mocking tone was sharp against Barrett"s ears as he turned to see the giant"s sneer.

"It"s nothing, Father," Barrett quickly replied, ducking his head and hiding the flicker of rebellion in his eyes. The word was like acid on his tongue but he long ago learned the giant would torment him if he didn't add it.

"You need to stay focused on your duties." The giant"s voice bellowed across the chamber, a warning wrapped in a scowl. "Dreaming will get you nowhere."

With a guttural hum, Barrett acknowledged his stepfather"s words and watched as the giant retreated once more, each step a cacophony of creaks and groans from the ancient floorboards.

"I will find my way," Barrett mouthed silently, his hands persisting in their endless task. But within him, a flame flickered—a defiant hope that refused to be snuffed out by the suffocating clutches of his stepfather"s kingdom.

As the day waned and shadows stretched across the hall with grasping fingers, Barrett clenched the ring once more. The soft glow cast by the setting sun kissed the stone, bathing Barrett in a light that spoke of promises yet to be fulfilled.

In the privacy of the fading light, Barrett allowed himself the smallest of laughter, a sound that should have been joyous but was instead weighted with sorrow.

The sound was a quiet thing, barely disturbing the silence, but it was a declaration of sorts. A vow that, though he was bound by fate and blood, Barrett would not be held captive forever.

And so, with night descending like a curtain on another day"s toils, Barrett dreamed yet again of salvation. Of a hero from afar who would climb to the clouds and release him from this gilded cage.