Translated fiction: Lot, a foreigner, threads his life through shadows in infernal Sodom

The wooden crates used to confine prisoners were made from thick logs, bound tightly with sturdy jute ropes. The crates were too cramped to stand in, too narrow to turn around. Ophir’s warriors dragged Emalath and Bithya by the ropes tied around their waists and kicked them into the crates. Emalath shouted, demanding to know what crime she had committed.

“Shut your mouth!” one of the soldiers snapped.

If she had not immediately lain down on the floor, a lance thrust through the bars would have pierced her neck. Two soldiers of Ophir – half-man, half-demon – entered the crate. They kicked Bithya, who lay clutching her child, and forced her to stand. After binding her and Emalath’s legs with a metal ring, they tossed the keys to the sentry and left. They took the light with them, plunging the space into darkness so thick it seemed it could be split with an axe. The guard moved back and forth like darkness stirring in the dark.

“Will they kill us?”

“Kill? Why?”

“I heard them talk. We are here for treason.”

“But what did we do?”

“Not us; it was you … you are the traitor. You begged from a foreigner. He treated your child. You along with him violated the rules...

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