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The slave hunched down as the bitter winds ripped through the cage's iron bars that trapped himself and his ten, fellow slaves. Â
Each slave was a unique mortal. Born and raised. Each had a story to tell. Each had dreams and fears. Each was born as equals to the slavers that held them. Each equal to kings and queens. All that held them were the cages, both literal, and the ones made by society.
The slave opened his eyes. A hyur of thirty years, he was not an unattractive man.  He was tan, and bearded; with steely grey eyes and a hawkish nose.
He was once called Benten Westmoore. Now he was slave number forty-three. They had taken his name. His freedom. His rights. All taken that night he had been abducted from Limsa after too much drinking by the docks. For months now, he had sailed the oceans in chains. Being dragged about to be sold to someone.Â
And now, here he was. Hundreds of miles from the sea. Into the mountains cold he was taken, to slave in the mines of someone whom felt it better to work replaceable labor to death that pay an honest days wage to some miner.
Benten had made his peace with his gods that he would die. Some slaves he had arrived with had already passed.
Benten looked outside the cage. There were ten other cages loaded with slaves. The poor mortals all hunched as they stared with dull eyes. The nearby tunnels stood open and dark, and deep inside would be the place these slaves would be worked to death so that someone at the top could grow richer. This was the way of the world.
Least it had been before the angel had come.Â
In the darkness it had moved, wrapped in a black coat with eyes that were darker than the night.Â
A way to freedom it had promised. A chance to take back their lives if they would but fight for it. It had given them weapons to hide. Daggers, swords, axes. All given and then advised someone sleep upon them to hide them from the guards who returned after the angel's departure.
But the cage's were still locked.
But Benten knew that the angel would free them. They must simply be ready to die for their freedom.
Benten was.
There was a shout and Benten looked over. The twenty or so guards were laughing as they stood around a fire, finishing their breakfast. Soon the guards would finish and they would drag the slaves into the mines to work.
But today was their undoing.
Benten watched with hatred as the guards laughed. Sure, they loved their life. They benefited from the social order. They got to crush others under their boots. \
Benten would smash all their faces.
A boy beside Benten sneezed and the older man looked at the boy.
"Just a little longer." Benten whispered.Â
"Are we sure this is the only way?" the boy mumbled. He was no older than fourteen and shaking from cold and fear.
"Boy, after ten weeks in the mine, you'll be wishing you had died here, today." wheezed a pale faced slave with a long, black beard. He had been here longer than the rest and knew the horrors of this place.
"Aye. We just wait the angel's sign. He promised..."
Benten saw it then. Ten ravens flew down from the mountain side, cawing wildly. They shot for the cages. As the birds slammed into the locks, the birds exploded into void fire that melted the metal. In seconds the locks were gone and the guards and slaves both stared at the spectacle.
Benten was the first to move. With a mighty shout he rolled over the slave who had died last night due to exposure and seized an axe from beneath. Like a beast, he threw himself at the gate and it slammed opened. He looked at his fellow slaves.
"Fight! Fight for your lives or die in holes!" Bentsen bellowed and charged the guards; who were scrambling for their weapons. All around Benten, other slaves stirred, seizing weapons and flinging open the doors to their cages. A madness overtook the beaten mortals and the fire of freedom burned in their eyes.
It was this fire that the guard saw before Benten lodged his axe into the guard's screaming face. Blood coated Benten as he roared in rage and desperation.
* * *
It was over in less than five minutes. The last guard was bleeding out as the winds howled. The twenty guards lay strewn about, blood oozing from their hacked bodies. Meanwhile, nineteen of the slaves had been slain and at least another seven would succumb to their wounds by the day's end. The guards had been the better fighters. But the surprise and confusion had given the slaves enough time to take their revenge.
Benten clutched a hole in his side as blood trickled from it. He wasn't sure if it was fatal but he didn't care. He sat, leaning against a barrel, drinking beer for the first time in months as the snow fell about his face. He might die, but he was getting to drink and die as a free man.
A tear rolled down his eye and he held his side tighter. He had a family to return too. He could not die here. Would not die here.Â
"Thank you, angle in black." Benten whispered softly to the heavens. "Thank you for you kindness."
Nearby, a white raven cawed and took to the sky.
The slave hunched down as the bitter winds ripped through the cage's iron bars that trapped himself and his ten, fellow slaves. Â
Each slave was a unique mortal. Born and raised. Each had a story to tell. Each had dreams and fears. Each was born as equals to the slavers that held them. Each equal to kings and queens. All that held them were the cages, both literal, and the ones made by society.
The slave opened his eyes. A hyur of thirty years, he was not an unattractive man.  He was tan, and bearded; with steely grey eyes and a hawkish nose.
He was once called Benten Westmoore. Now he was slave number forty-three. They had taken his name. His freedom. His rights. All taken that night he had been abducted from Limsa after too much drinking by the docks. For months now, he had sailed the oceans in chains. Being dragged about to be sold to someone.Â
And now, here he was. Hundreds of miles from the sea. Into the mountains cold he was taken, to slave in the mines of someone whom felt it better to work replaceable labor to death that pay an honest days wage to some miner.
Benten had made his peace with his gods that he would die. Some slaves he had arrived with had already passed.
Benten looked outside the cage. There were ten other cages loaded with slaves. The poor mortals all hunched as they stared with dull eyes. The nearby tunnels stood open and dark, and deep inside would be the place these slaves would be worked to death so that someone at the top could grow richer. This was the way of the world.
Least it had been before the angel had come.Â
In the darkness it had moved, wrapped in a black coat with eyes that were darker than the night.Â
A way to freedom it had promised. A chance to take back their lives if they would but fight for it. It had given them weapons to hide. Daggers, swords, axes. All given and then advised someone sleep upon them to hide them from the guards who returned after the angel's departure.
But the cage's were still locked.
But Benten knew that the angel would free them. They must simply be ready to die for their freedom.
Benten was.
There was a shout and Benten looked over. The twenty or so guards were laughing as they stood around a fire, finishing their breakfast. Soon the guards would finish and they would drag the slaves into the mines to work.
But today was their undoing.
Benten watched with hatred as the guards laughed. Sure, they loved their life. They benefited from the social order. They got to crush others under their boots. \
Benten would smash all their faces.
A boy beside Benten sneezed and the older man looked at the boy.
"Just a little longer." Benten whispered.Â
"Are we sure this is the only way?" the boy mumbled. He was no older than fourteen and shaking from cold and fear.
"Boy, after ten weeks in the mine, you'll be wishing you had died here, today." wheezed a pale faced slave with a long, black beard. He had been here longer than the rest and knew the horrors of this place.
"Aye. We just wait the angel's sign. He promised..."
Benten saw it then. Ten ravens flew down from the mountain side, cawing wildly. They shot for the cages. As the birds slammed into the locks, the birds exploded into void fire that melted the metal. In seconds the locks were gone and the guards and slaves both stared at the spectacle.
Benten was the first to move. With a mighty shout he rolled over the slave who had died last night due to exposure and seized an axe from beneath. Like a beast, he threw himself at the gate and it slammed opened. He looked at his fellow slaves.
"Fight! Fight for your lives or die in holes!" Bentsen bellowed and charged the guards; who were scrambling for their weapons. All around Benten, other slaves stirred, seizing weapons and flinging open the doors to their cages. A madness overtook the beaten mortals and the fire of freedom burned in their eyes.
It was this fire that the guard saw before Benten lodged his axe into the guard's screaming face. Blood coated Benten as he roared in rage and desperation.
* * *
It was over in less than five minutes. The last guard was bleeding out as the winds howled. The twenty guards lay strewn about, blood oozing from their hacked bodies. Meanwhile, nineteen of the slaves had been slain and at least another seven would succumb to their wounds by the day's end. The guards had been the better fighters. But the surprise and confusion had given the slaves enough time to take their revenge.
Benten clutched a hole in his side as blood trickled from it. He wasn't sure if it was fatal but he didn't care. He sat, leaning against a barrel, drinking beer for the first time in months as the snow fell about his face. He might die, but he was getting to drink and die as a free man.
A tear rolled down his eye and he held his side tighter. He had a family to return too. He could not die here. Would not die here.Â
"Thank you, angle in black." Benten whispered softly to the heavens. "Thank you for you kindness."
Nearby, a white raven cawed and took to the sky.
