The city rose before them like an island in a sea of desert. Along the left wall, a river flowed, its cool waters carrying life. Around it, vegetation grew in abundance—clumps of reeds, shrubs with dark green leaves, and low trees that seemed to cling desperately to the moist earth, in stark contrast to the barren, golden sand. Tall, dark-grey walls stretched in both directions toward the horizon, a sharp contrast to the surrounding landscape. Upon their surface shimmered runes—precise, meticulously carved symbols that protected the inhabitants from something whose shadow Alex had seen the night before. The slave with the burned hand had told him, "Only the runes protect against what comes from the dark. You must never step beyond them after nightfall."
Alex stared at the walls, feeling something twist in his stomach. It had only been hours since he'd witnessed the death of the boy who dared to break that one simple rule. Now, those same markings—ancient, alien, and silent—watched him like a warning: in this world, every mistake cost a life.
The column of slaves moved in silence, escorted by guards riding massive, two-humped lizards. The people around Alex had blank, lifeless eyes. They were worn out by the march, the heat, the fear. Though their hands were unchained, none tried to flee. After what they had seen, even the thought of escape seemed absurd.
The city swallowed them in its noise—shouts of merchants, clanking iron, the calls of people rushing about their business. Alex felt a knot form in his throat. This was the first place he had seen in this new world where life seemed to carry on normally. And yet, he knew it was an illusion—false security sealed within walls etched with runes.
As they entered deeper into the city, the stench became intense—a mix of sweat, animals, spices, and something else he couldn't identify, nor wanted to. The buildings were tightly packed, made of clay and stone, with narrow alleyways filled with people. Everyone seemed to ignore the passing slaves—they were just part of the scenery, like dust or sand.
Alex kept walking, unsure of what the future held. His eyes met elf woman for a brief moment. No words were needed.
Eventually, they reached the slave market—a large square surrounded by stone walls, full of merchants and spectators. The guards stopped them, lining them up like livestock for sale. Suddenly, Alex felt exposed. He was nothing now but a product to be evaluated, touched, purchased.
She stood beside him, upright, her gaze fixed on a point beyond the crowd. Her face was calm and still, but Alex sensed tension in every movement. Her hair, though dusty and tangled, glinted faintly in the sun, and her skin—despite the grime—radiated a sensuality that drew the eyes of both merchants and guards. Even here, in this place of filth, stench, and humiliation, she was mesmerizingly beautiful. Alex looked at her in silent awe.
A merchant stepped out of the crowd. He was older, noticeably overweight, clad in a bright, expensive tunic that emphasized his wealth and status. Numerous golden rings adorned his pudgy fingers, and his gaze was one of tired contempt mixed with greed and something far worse. He stopped before them, examining Them with a cold, calculating look—as if assessing goods on display. He grimaced slightly, then turned to the slave trader.
"An exotic pair," he said with a lewd smile, letting his gaze linger on her's body far longer than necessary. "Especially the elf... Unusual beauty. People like novelty, don't they?"
The trader, a thin man with twitchy hands, smiled eagerly, rubbing his palms together with anticipation.
"You won't find better on the entire market, my lord. A strong, young man and a beautiful elf. The price is exceptionally fair."
The older merchant snorted in disdain, shaking his head.
"Fair? Have you seen their condition? They're barely standing. I'll give you half of what you're asking—only because the elf will look good in my collection."
"Half?!" the trader feigned offense, though his eyes still gleamed with greed. "My lord, she's a rarity. Just capturing an elf cost me more than what you're offering. You insult me!"
The older man waved him off dismissively, but there was a spark of interest in his eyes.
"Don't play me for a fool. I can toss in a few silver coins, that's all. And I'm still overpaying. I'm not some wide-eyed fool you can trick with your stories."
The trader hesitated for a moment, then sighed theatrically.
"Fine, my lord, so be it—but remember my loss when you return to the market next time. The elf alone is worth twice the price."
The merchant just snorted and wordlessly tossed a pouch of gold to the trader. The man quickly counted the coins, a pleased, cunning grin appearing on his face. The deal was made. Alex clenched his fists, feeling his nails dig into his skin. He said nothing. He couldn't. They now belonged to that man.
"Move," the guard ordered, pointing the way. "You now belong to Lord Velas. Better be worth the price."
Alex glanced at her one more time before the guards pushed them toward yet another prison. The girl didn't look at him, but he saw the tension in her neck, the clenched jaw, and eyes burning with fury and defiance.
As they walked through the crowd, Alex felt the stares—indifferent, curious, sometimes filled with scorn. But the worst part wasn't the looks. The worst part was the helplessness—the realization that he had become a thing, a toy in the hands of those who had everything.
He looked once more at the runes on the wall, now fading behind them. They were the only signs that gave him hope. He knew that at night, they protected from something far worse than humans—from the nameless, eternal threat lurking in the desert.
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 elf again. Her face remained still, cold, but something had changed in it. As if she understood that from now on, their fates were bound more tightly than ever.
Alex clenched his fists. This was to be his new life, and he would no longer be a nobody. He didn't want to be a shadow that people passed without a second glance. He wanted to be seen—for who he truly was. He would find a way to escape. Even if now he was just a slave, he knew that only the strongest would survive in this world.
And he intended to become one of them.