After a moment, he heard the cell door open again. He looked up—one of the guards was standing in the doorway. Without a word, the man tossed two small bundles wrapped in gray cloth onto the floor, then pointed at the elf.
"Your new clothes," he said flatly, then looked at Alex. "And yours."
Without waiting for any reaction, he turned on his heel and left, slamming the heavy door shut behind him.
Lyra stood up slowly, walked over to the bundles with slight hesitation, and carefully picked one up. She unwrapped the cloth and examined it closely, a look of disgust appearing on her face.
"What even is this?" she muttered in irritation. "Gray rags that barely cover half my body. What an insult to my race..."
"My name's Lyra, by the way. And you?""Alex. Nice to meet you." He smiled, but she didn't answer.
She looked at Alex, as if briefly pondering something, then turned her eyes back to the clothing.
"Turn around," she said, her tone leaving no room for discussion.
Alex blinked, momentarily thrown off.
"What?"
"I need to change into this." A flicker of barely contained fury flashed in her eyes, quickly hidden behind a stone-cold expression. "And don't even think about peeking."
"Oh—of course," Alex mumbled, quickly turning to face the opposite wall. His cheeks flushed with heat, his heart started to race, and his thoughts spiraled in chaotic directions he couldn't control.
Behind him, he heard the rustle of fabric, followed by the soft sound of rags falling to the stone floor. He clenched his fists involuntarily, trying to push away the images invading his mind. The cell suddenly felt smaller, the silence more suffocating. All he could hear was Lyra's soft breathing, as if no other sound existed.
The elf sighed quietly. Driven by irresistible curiosity, Alex stole a quick, cautious glance over his shoulder.
Lyra stood in profile, allowing him a brief glimpse of her bare form. In the cell's dim light, her skin glimmered faintly. The subtle curves of her hips and lean muscles caught the light in a way that seemed almost magical. Alex's heartbeat quickened, blood pounding in his temples. He had never seen a woman like this before—so close, so real, with nothing to hide behind.
She turned her head and caught his gaze. For a moment, she looked amused—but there was something more in her eyes. A challenge, perhaps. Or a dare.
"I said turn around," she snapped, raising one eyebrow. "Do I have to repeat myself?"
"Sorry," Alex muttered, his face burning red all the way to his ears. He immediately looked away, this time firmly, without the slightest hesitation.
He heard her scoff—a brief, almost imperceptible sound, but enough to make him feel both embarrassed and oddly pleased.
"You can turn back now," she said after a moment, her voice cold and indifferent again, as if nothing had happened.
He turned slowly. Lyra was already dressed in the gray, plain tunic and fitted pants the guard had left behind. The outfit looked deliberately chosen—not to cover her, but to expose her.
The tunic clung to her chest and waist, ending too high, revealing a sliver of her stomach with each movement. The pants were tight to the point of excess, hugging her hips and thighs so closely the fabric seemed to press into her skin.
That wasn't an accident. Someone had chosen that set specifically to highlight every part of her body that could be sold with a glance.
Lyra returned to her spot in the corner of the cell and sat down, pulling her knees to her chest. Her indifferent gaze locked onto Alex—without shame, without hesitation.
"Your turn now," she said coolly, raising one brow.
Alex swallowed hard, the familiar tension rising inside him. Still, he clenched his jaw, took a deep breath, and quickly stripped off his filthy, torn clothes, leaving only the thin cloth wrapped around his hips.
He turned slightly to the side, trying to hide the erection he couldn't suppress. Out of the corner of his eye, he noticed Lyra's lips twitch—an involuntary, fleeting smile. But within seconds, her face returned to its usual sternness. As if nothing had happened.
Blushing, Alex quickly reached for the gray clothes. The outfit he received was simple, bland—nothing like the one given to the elf.
For a while, they sat next to each other in silence, until Alex finally couldn't take it anymore. He forced himself to speak, though his voice felt dry as the sand under his feet.
"Lyra..." he began softly. "Do you know anything about this place? The city? The desert... what's really going on here?"
The elf didn't respond immediately. Her gaze was fixed somewhere ahead, as if weighing whether it was worth telling him the truth. Finally, she looked at him.
"This desert isn't just sand and hunger," she said. "It's a place where people vanish—and never return. The ones brought here are sold. Moved elsewhere. Taken to mines, to forts, arenas. To the homes of the rich."
She paused, then added:
"If someone disappears into these sands, few go looking for them. Sometimes, even their families stop asking. They know—if someone's taken, they don't come back."
"They say there used to be cities here. Old roads, stone towers, even temples. But now it's all buried. The desert swallows everything. Sometimes, if you know where to look, you can still find traces... ruins, foundations. But you'd better stay away."
"If you want to survive, don't try to understand the desert. Just make it through. If you can."
Alex nodded.
He leaned back against the cool, damp wall, closed his eyes, and tried to rest for just a moment. His thoughts were still a tangled mess, colliding chaotically in his mind.
They talked a little more—grateful for the chance to finally exchange a few words with someone who understood. Someone who wasn't just another slave trudging through the sands. Alex quickly noticed that Lyra spoke briefly, distantly. She didn't trust him. She was cold.
But she spoke. She opened up—just a little.
And even though she didn't say it aloud, he could feel it. Just like him, she was thankful for the moment. For the presence of someone who hadn't gone numb inside.
Both Alex and Lyra—though neither admitted it—were quietly relieved to know they weren't entirely alone in this harsh, unfamiliar world.
Eventually, they lay down on the hard cell floor and fell asleep almost at the same time. Exhausted, worn out... but with a flicker of hope that maybe, just maybe, tomorrow would be a little less merciless.