“Yes, Dame Karzi,” I muttered, bracing myself for another day of misery.

  Despite spending the entire night wide awake on Earth, I felt strangely refreshed, unnaturally energized, like I’d chugged a gallon of espresso minus the inevitable crash. Did this mean no more sleep, no more dreaming? A weird trade-off.

  The morning air was crisp, tinged with smoke and the greasy smell of sizzling fat.

  Around the flickering flames, we gathered for breakfast, though calling it a ‘meal’ was a bit generous. The bowl in my hands held something gray and vaguely lumpy.

  I prodded at it cautiously with my fingers, pretending they were makeshift spoons.

  Edible? Probably. Enjoyable? Doubtful.

  But soon, my appetite became the least of my problems. The camp’s energy had shifted; tension hummed through the air, thicker than the smoke. Conversations hushed to whispers as Dame Karzi paced like a predator circling fresh prey.

  Her grin was feral, eyes glinting with a savage delight that had nothing to do with breakfast. “They tried!” Her voice rang out, rough and gleeful. “They failed! They will be eaten!”

  I froze mid-scoop, the gritty texture forgotten on my tongue. Oh. Today’s menu had suddenly gotten much worse.

  It didn’t take long for the wolves to drag their victims forward, ten bloodied elves with bodies twisted and limbs hanging at unnatural angles. My stomach churned, breakfast threatening to make a second, unwanted appearance.

  “You see?” Karzi crowed, spreading her arms wide like she was presenting trophies rather than broken, terrified beings. “Slaves must learn their place. And those who don’t—”

  She paused dramatically, her eyes gleaming, and tilted her head back to unleash a long, guttural howl.

  Her pack instantly joined, a chaotic chorus erupting around the camp. The wolves yipped and snarled excitedly, their dark fur bristling, teeth bared in hungry anticipation.

  I stared helplessly as the injured elves shrank back, whimpers barely audible beneath the predatory cacophony. Every instinct screamed at me to intervene, to fight, to do something, anything, but logic held me chained tighter than Karzi ever could.

  No weapons, no magic, no backup. Just me, my shitty porridge, and a horde of enthusiastic wolf-cultists.

  “Yes,” Karzi said, her gaze sweeping over the silent crowd of slaves and guards alike. Her voice rang clear with brutal certainty. “I am a slaver. I know damaging the goods is wasteful. This is a very expensive meal, yes. But if it sends a message to the rest of you? Then I will feed every wolf in this camp if I have to.”

  Her tone carried an almost religious fervor, as if this act of cruelty was not just punishment, but a performance. A declaration.

  Then she turned to the circling wolves. They waited like coiled springs, their bodies tense, their eyes glinting with animalistic hunger.

  Karzi tilted her head to the sky. “Aoooooooow!” Her howl split the morning air, raw and wild.

  The wolves didn’t hesitate.

  They descended upon the broken elves like a tidal wave of fur and fangs, snarling and tearing with ruthless precision. Flesh gave way. Screams erupted and were quickly silenced.

  I swallowed thickly, bile threatening at the back of my throat. My hand trembled as I set down the half-finished bowl of gruel.

  Nope. Not doing this.

  Instead, I pulled open my Rimelion menu like it was the world’s most distracting coping mechanism. Anything to get my mind off the show unfolding in front of me.

  After the morning feeding frenzy, Karzi once again insisted I ride with her.

  If there had been any ember of defiance left smoldering in my chest, the hideous spectacle she’d orchestrated had extinguished it with ruthless finality.

  Internally, though, I quietly swore an oath to myself, and to the coldhearted crow god watching from afar, that one day I’d personally annihilate her and every wolf I ever had the misfortune to encounter.

  When the sun clawed its merciless path to the peak of the sky, Karzi called another halt for a meal. This time, my hunger burned fiercely, the horrors of the morning having hollowed me out until my stomach growled louder than Karzi’s wolves.

  The scent of sizzling fat and smoky spices filled the dry air, teasing my senses despite my loathing for the company.

  Karzi crashed to the ground beside me, her heavy armor rattling as she sprawled with careless dominance, immediately attacking her bowl of stew. Her gauntlets gleamed with grease, and broth dribbled down her chin, clinging to her in a mess she wore like a badge of honor.

  “Oh, girly,” she suddenly said, fixing me with a calculating stare, “what magic do you have?”

  Icy dread crawled up my spine, sweat prickling instantly across my forehead and the back of my neck. How did she know? My heart thundered, but I forced my voice steady. “I… what?”

  She leaned closer, eyes narrowing like a predator sensing weakness. “Your magic. What kind is it?”

  I swallowed, throat dry as sand. “Ice,” I replied quickly, forcing the word out before hesitation could betray me.

  Karzi tilted her head thoughtfully, appraising me with the same detached, critical attention I might have once given a particularly interesting glass of whiskey. “Hmm,” she mused, her voice dropping to a calculating murmur, “you’ll fetch an acceptable price. Mages always sell well.” Her eyes glinted with greedy anticipation, and for a brief moment, she looked disturbingly human, before she exploded into laughter so violent that her bowl nearly toppled from her grasp.

  “But I’m always in the market for good mages myself!” she bellowed between laughs, half-choking on her stew as she slapped her thigh. “Tell you what, girly…”

  She glanced disdainfully down at her nearly empty bowl and suddenly hollered toward the campfire, “Hey! Another! And hurry!”

  An elven cook, face drawn and visibly anxious, rushed over and thrust another steaming bowl into her hand. Karzi carelessly threw the previous one aside, the wooden dish skittering through the dust.

  “Girly,” she continued, leaning close, her breath heavy with garlic and meat, “after we bind you properly, I’ll let you join us. I’ve got a special elixir that’ll stir real wolf's blood into your veins. Imagine that! A slave catching other slaves, howling at the moon every damn night!”

  “Exciting,” I murmured, barely managing to suppress the edge of sarcasm that wanted to seep into my voice.

  She threw back her head, letting out another explosive laugh that echoed eerily over the wide, barren steppe. “Right?! I’ll think about it,” she chuckled, eyes glittering maliciously as she jabbed a finger in my direction. “But damn, you’d fetch a high price at Altandai… And we need the gold.”

  By late afternoon, we reached what passed for a village.

  Clustered domed huts with curved, weather-worn roofs and colorful fabrics hanging from their entrances. The structures circled around central hearths and smoke holes, and their layout spiraled organically like wind-carved valleys.

  The houses themselves were from pale timber, beaten leather, and sun-bleached stone. Thin banners fluttered from twisted iron poles, creaking softly in the dry wind.

  But before we could enter, Karzi brought the procession to a halt. She rode to the front, towering in her saddle like a self-proclaimed warlord, and raised a hand for silence. “Slaves!” she roared, voice echoing across the hushed plain.

  “We’re getting you bound. Do not resist. Resist the bounding, and you are the evening meal!”

  Her voice was gleeful, practically vibrating with cruelty. Then she threw her head back and howled. The wolves responded in perfect chorus, their snarls and yips vibrating through the soil.

  Around us, the wolf-kin grinned with anticipation. “Wolfies! Spend your gold however you want tonight!” Karzi bellowed, her signature belly laugh rolling over the village like thunder.

  We entered the village to wary glances and stiff backs. People walked the winding dirt paths with practiced indifference, stepping over old bloodstains and ignoring the shrieks of a few desperate elves who cried out for help.

  No one turned.

  Their silence was trained, honed by repetition and fear. One elf shouted too loudly and was smashed by a wolf-kin, slammed to the ground.

  I couldn’t help the smirk that twitched at the edge of my lips. Now was definitely not the time for rebellion, we were watched and they expected it.

  Besides, I knew how the bounding worked. Once that cursed mark was burned into your skin, it could only be removed by overlaying a higher-tier one. Like pushing out a nail with a bigger nail; except this nail was carved in fire and bound to your soul.

  Karzi jerked her reins, and her beast came to a halt in front of a squat, broad building at the edge of the village. She glanced down at me and grinned. “Hey, girly,” she said, voice syrupy and mocking. Then she gave me a not-so-gentle shove off the steed.

  I hit the ground with a grunt and quickly scrambled to my feet.

  “You’re first,” she announced proudly. “Be a good, obedient little girl, and I’ll take care of you real nice.” Her grin stretched wider, showing too many teeth. “You’re worth a lot. I smelled your worth from afar.”

  “Uhm, Dame Karzi… You did what now?” I said, the words slipping out before I could stop myself. “You… sensed my worth?”

  I half-expected a slap. Or worse. Instead, she cackled.

  “Smelled!” she barked, tapping the side of her nose proudly. “Like fresh meat sizzling on a spit. Now come on, you’re first.”

  We stepped into the building and were instantly swallowed by dim, amber light and a cloying wave of heat. The interior stank of scorched metal, sweat, and something vaguely organic, rotting leather masked poorly with incense, creating a nauseating swirl of musk and smoke that clung to my throat.

  The air was thick and unmoving.

  Outside, at least, a breeze had tempered the sun. In here, the heat pressed in from all sides, suffocating and unrelenting. My vision blurred for a second, a faint dizziness threatening to topple me, but I pushed forward. Bravery had nothing to do with it, I just didn’t want Karzi to grab me by the hair again.

  “Hey, Urbeth!” Karzi hollered into the building like she owned the place. The silence that answered her was as if she shouted into empty bottle.

  With a growl, she shoved me forward and into a room.

  The space was cramped and stuffy, lit by a small, crackling furnace that barely passed as a proper forge. A long wooden table monopolized the room, surrounded by stools and a dented bench, its surface scarred from years of heavy use.

  The walls were lined with strange tools, all hanging from rusted hooks, some looked like surgical implements, others like torture devices.

  I wasn’t sure which made me more uncomfortable.

  “Urbeth! Need you!” Karzi shouted again, her voice carrying easily through the thin walls.

  Somewhere in the distance, a muffled curse responded. “Shut your yapping, woman, I’m trying to sleep!” a harsh male voice fired back.

  “Out of bed! Got business for you!”

  Her yelling echoed like a war horn. Through the thin wall, I could hear him muttering a string of curses, something about not being paid enough and always being disturbed at the worst possible time.

  Then, with a loud wooden clank, a side door slammed open and a short man stormed in. A dwarf, though maybe with some human blood in the mix, his features weren’t as exaggerated as those I’d seen before, probably thanks to his mother. Maybe he was created that way, my knowledge of Rimelion’s mating rules was a little fuzzy on that.

  “Oh, hi!” he said cheerily, revealing a row of crooked yellow teeth.

  He waddled forward with surprising grace and gave a theatrical bow, his stained tunic swinging with the motion. “Name’s Urbeth!”

  I blinked, then quickly scrambled off the bench and dropped to my knees, bowing deeply. No one had told me the etiquette for binding rooms, but safer was better. “Nice to meet you. My name is Charlie.”

  “Hah!” Urbeth giggled, a high-pitched, slightly unhinged sound. “Finally, someone with manners! Unlike that brute animal over there.”

  He shot a thumb over his shoulder toward Karzi just as she stomped into the room. Without hesitation, she bonked him on the head with the flat of her hand.

  He didn’t flinch, just grinned wider. “Making my point! Okay, let’s get you bound!”