Rin stood motionless.
Her hands stilled on the cart, her breath caught tight in her chest.
That voice.
She knew it.
A chill rippled through her bones, sharp and sudden, as if cold chains had coiled around her wrists.
Suddenly, the market's lively sounds fell away, leaving only the pounding of her heart and the cold, creeping bloom of fear. The laughter, the shouts, the clink of coins—all muffled, distant, like a dream slipping away.
The world around her blurred, as if it had all stopped, waiting.
BANG!
A wooden gavel slammed down, its sharp crack slashing through the air like a whip.
Rin flinched.
Her mind jolted back—stone beneath her bare feet, a voice snarling orders in a crowded square, the crack of the gavel splitting the sunlit air. She remembered what came after.
Heads turned. Whispers hushed. Even the gulls circling above fell quiet, as if sensing the shift.
A man in a top hat near the front muttered, "Finally!" while a rough-looking merchant grinned to his companion. "Perfect. Mine broke days ago."
On a raised wooden platform stood a man dressed in silver-trimmed black—his coat immaculate despite the dust, his boots polished, his gloved hand resting on the gavel like a king holding court.
Karthis Vane.
He didn't need to introduce himself. Everyone in Alta's slaver circle knew the name—and the weight it carried.
Rin's breath trembled. The name crashed against her like cold water.
Karthis wore power like a second skin, his smile a blade sheathed in velvet.
His hawk-like gaze swept the gathered crowd, lingering on the wealthy, the bored, the cruel. He fed off their hunger, their gold, their need to own what was never theirs.
He raised the gavel with a flourish and grinned.
"Next lot!"
Rin's fists clenched around the cart handle, knuckles white. Her skin prickled with the memory of rough fingers under her chin, lifting her face for the crowd, of iron biting her wrists.
Chains rattled.
Behind iron bars, the first captives were dragged onto the stage.
A massive wolfkin male, fur matted with dirt, bared his fangs in defiance. A thick iron collar locked around his neck glowed faintly—a suppression enchantment. Karthis yanked the chain himself, forcing him to his knees.
Rin's shoulders stiffened. She felt the phantom pull of a collar at her own throat.
"Feisty one," Karthis sneered, voice polished smooth for the crowd. "But don't let the teeth fool you—he'll break like the rest."
Then came a trembling young foxkin woman, her amber tail bristling as she was shoved forward.
"Delicate, isn't she?" Karthis seized her chin, forcing her face toward the audience. "Trained for housework—or anything else your heart desires."
The crowd responded like wolves to blood.
"Forty silvers!" "Fifty!" "Seventy-five for the fox girl!"
Rin's breath hitched. Her chest tightened as old memories pressed in—the hunger, the cold, the months in a dark cellar with other children, sickness sweeping through like wildfire. She remembered the first time one of them didn't wake up.
She remembered thinking she wouldn't wake up either.
Karthis chuckled, tapping his ring against the gavel's handle. "Ah, now we're talking."
BANG! Another soul sold. Another chain snapped shut.
Rin's vision blurred. Her fingers twitched, aching for something solid, something real. She bit the inside of her cheek, the sharp sting anchoring her in the present.
More captives were dragged forward—dark-skinned natives from the northern plains. Among them, a boy no older than ten stumbled onto the stage.
Karthis didn't hesitate. He gave the child a kick. "Stand up. Or I'll sell you for parts."
Some bidders laughed.
Laya tightened her grip on Archus. Lyndis moved closer, silent and watchful.
Rin still stood locked in place.
The stench of sweat and fear.
The scrape of chains on wood.
The jeers, the muttered bids.
She didn't need to lift her gaze—the sounds alone were enough. Her body remembered what her mind wanted to bury.
A voice in her ear.
"Smile, girl. It raises the price."
Her heart pounded, each beat shaking her stillness.
"Rin."
Laya's voice, low and steady, pierced through the haze.
Rin flinched, dragged back to the present. Lyndis was at her side, her gaze sharp, unreadable.
"Don't give them a reason to notice us," Lyndis murmured.
Rin clenched her hands into fists, fingernails biting into her palms. She wanted to run. To tear down the stage. To break every chain she saw.
But she couldn't. Not here.
Not yet.
Her breath shuddered as she forced her feet to move, forced her mind to stay in the now.
Behind her, the gavel cracked again.
BANG!
Another life sold. Another chain closed.
The world surged on—the crowd jostled, laughed, argued, spent their gold.
And Rin kept walking, every step a silent war against the past still wrapped around her like a shadow.