Under the creaking old house, Samuel's jumped up from his sleep,his heart pounded in the darkness of the basement. He could hear muffled voices above, arguing in a language he couldn't understand. The voices grew louder, echoing through the ancient beams and plaster.
Samuel felt something cold and heavy in his pocket.How could he have forogtten.His knife! He stood up shakily and quietly worked the knife into the rotting wood above his head, chipping away at the fragile surface. As a sliver of light pierced the gloom, he positioned his eye to the gap and saw three men locked in a heated dispute. Their wild gestures and foreign tongue added to the eerie atmosphere, casting long, restless shadows on the walls.
Samuel banged on the trapdoor with all his might, trying to be heard over their quarrel. His fists pounded against the wood, each impact a desperate cry for help. The men paused, their eyes darting to the floor where Samuel lay hidden.
The men's argument halted abruptly at the sound of Samuel's frantic pounding. One of the men, tall with a scar running down his cheek, cautiously approached the trapdoor. His eyes narrowed suspiciously as he exchanged wary glances with the others.
In the dim light filtering through the gap, Samuel could see their weathered faces, tense and hardened by life. With a mix of fear and hope, he continued to bang on the door, his voice now hoarse from shouting.
Finally, the scarred man knelt down, hesitated for a moment, and then yanked the trapdoor open. The sudden flood of light blinded Samuel for an instant. As his vision adjusted, he could make out the silhouettes of the three men towering above him, their expressions unreadable.
"Who are you?" the scarred man demanded in heavily accented English. "Why are you here?"
Samuel struggled to find his voice. "Trapped... need help," he managed to croak out.
The men exchanged quick, uncertain looks. Would they be his rescuers or would their distrust seal his fate further?
"Come on boys!" a ruff voice snapped
The trapdoor creaked open, and Samuel was hauled up into the dimly lit room. The three men scrutinized him, their eyes narrowing as they took in his attire. His finely tailored clothes, though now dusty and disheveled, marked him unmistakably as a man of status from Mayfair Meadow Castle.
Recognition flickered in their dark eyes. One of the men, a burly figure with a scar running down his cheek, stepped forward and grabbed Samuel by the collar. "Where are you from?" he demanded, his voice a low growl.
"Mayfair Manor," Samuel replied, his voice trembling.
Without warning, the man's flew into his face turning his world into darkness...