The city rose before them like an island in a sea of desert. Along the left side of the outer wall ran a river, its cold waters carrying life through the dry wasteland. Around it, lush vegetation thrived — clusters of reeds, dark green bushes, and low trees clung tightly to the damp soil, standing in stark contrast to the dry, golden sand of the desert. The high, dark grey walls stretched in both directions, disappearing into the horizon, forming a sharp line against the barren landscape. On their surface shimmered runes — precise, carefully carved symbols that protected the inhabitants from something whose shadow Alex had seen the night before.
Alex looked at the walls, feeling his stomach twist. Only hours had passed since he had watched a boy die for breaking one simple rule. Now, those same ancient, silent, foreign symbols stared back at him, a reminder that every mistake in this world cost lives.
The column of slaves moved in silence, escorted by guards riding massive, double-humped lizards. The people around Alex were exhausted from the long march under the heat. No one tried to escape. After what they had seen, the idea of running seemed ridiculous.
The city swallowed them with its noise — the shouts of merchants, the clanging of iron, the calls of people rushing about their business. Alex felt a lump form in his throat. It was the first place he had seen in this new world where life seemed to go on as normal. As they moved deeper into the city, the stench grew stronger — a mix of sweat, animals, spices, and something else he couldn't identify, nor wanted to.
The buildings were packed tightly together, made of clay and stone, with narrow alleys full of people. No one paid them any attention. Slaves didn't attract interest. They were part of the scenery, like dust or sand.
Alex walked forward, not knowing what the future held. His eyes met Lyra's for a brief moment. They didn't have to say anything.
At last, they arrived at the slave market — a large square surrounded by stone walls, crowded with merchants and curious onlookers. The guards stopped them and lined them up like animals for sale.
Lyra stood beside him, straight and still, her eyes fixed on a single point somewhere above the crowd. Her face was cold and unmoving, but Alex could feel tension in every inch of her body. Her hair, though dirty and covered in dust, shimmered slightly in the sunlight, and her skin — despite the sweat and grime — held a sensual grace that drew the gaze of both merchants and guards. Even here, in a place full of filth, stench, and humiliation, she was strikingly beautiful. Alex looked at her in silent awe.
A moment later, a merchant stepped out of the crowd. He was older, clearly overweight, dressed in a bright, expensive tunic that practically screamed wealth and status. Gold rings glittered on his fat fingers, and his gaze was bored, filled with indifference and contempt — but also greed, mixed with something harder to name. Lust, perhaps. Or disgust.
A smile curled his lips. Twisted and smug, like he had just spotted something that would bring him perverse pleasure.
– Exotic pair – he said with a lecherous grin, letting his eyes rest far too long on Lyra's figure. – Especially the elf... Quite the beauty. People like new things, don't they?
The seller, a skinny man with nervous movements, smiled eagerly, rubbing his hands with impatience.
– You won't find better anywhere on the market, my lord. A strong young man and a beautiful elf. The price is more than fair.
The older merchant scoffed, shaking his head.
– Fair? Have you seen their condition? They can barely stand. I'll give you half of what you're asking, and only because the elf will look good in my collection.
– Half?! – the seller feigned outrage, though his eyes still gleamed with greed. – My lord, she's a rarity. Just capturing her cost me more than you offer. You insult me!
The older man waved his hand dismissively, though there was a spark of interest in his eyes.
– Don't play games with me. I can throw in a few silver coins, but that's all. I'm already overpaying. I'm no fool to fall for your stories.
The seller hesitated, then sighed dramatically.
– Very well, my lord, so be it. But remember my loss next time you visit the market. The elf alone is worth twice as much.
The merchant snorted and, without another word, tossed a pouch of gold at him. The seller counted the coins quickly, a sly, satisfied smile spreading across his face. The deal was done.
Alex clenched his fists, feeling his nails dig into his palms. He said nothing. He couldn't. They now belonged to this man.
– Move – the guard barked, pointing the way. – You belong to Master Velas now. You better be worth your price.
Alex looked at Lyra one last time before the guards pushed them toward their new prison. She didn't look back, but he saw the tension in her neck, the tightness in her jaw, and the fire in her eyes — a fire of rage and fury.
As they walked through the crowd, Alex felt eyes on him — cold, curious, sometimes mocking. But those stares weren't the worst part. The worst part was the helplessness — the knowledge that he had become a thing, a toy in the hands of those who had everything.
His hands trembled slightly as he crossed the gate of the nobleman's estate. He was a prisoner, but he was still alive.
He looked at Lyra again. Her face was calm, cold — but something in her had changed. As if she realized that from now on, their fates were tied even more tightly than before.
Alex clenched his fists.
This was supposed to be his new life — but he refused to be a nobody.He wouldn't be just a shadow people walked past without notice.He wanted to be seen. To be known for who he really was.
He would find a way out of this.Even if he was only a slave now — he knew one thing:
Only the strong survive in this world.And he would do whatever it took...to become one of them.
/
/
/
The guards led them to their new owner's estate.It was a large villa on the far edge of the city, surrounded by walls made of baked brick.
After passing through the gate, they stepped into a wide construction site.Amid the dust and the clatter of tools, slaves were building a new structure — probably another wing of the residence.
Without stopping, the guards led Alex and Lyra deeper into the grounds.Behind the main courtyard stood a plain building with several low doors and an adjoining guard house.These were the slaves' "quarters."
The building was bare, with no decoration — just a row of small, locked rooms.Each one looked more like a cell than a room.
The guards opened one of the small rooms and shoved them inside.The metal gate slammed shut behind them with a loud clang.
They were alone.
The cell was tiny. So small that two people with beds barely fit inside.
Alex barely had time to look around the cramped space when he heard the guard's footsteps returning.