Karzi rode straight into the building on her monstrous beast, its heavy paws clicking sharply against an insanely polished marble floor that reflected everything in perfect clarity.

  Unfortunately, including Karzi’s smug grin.

  Around us, gold-threaded tapestries shimmered obnoxiously, depicting scenes of conquests and wealth that reeked of “look how rich we are”.

  Massive marble pillars rose like proud sentinels to a ridiculously high ceiling painted with dramatic frescoes of gods lounging lazily above scenes of subjugation and grandeur.

  It was the kind of place that whispered wealth.

  Rich-looking humans occupied booths lining both sides of the hall, each surrounded by a swarm of anxious people clutching paperwork and pouches of gold, murmuring quietly like afraid mice hoping to avoid notice.

  Karzi, of course, ignored any etiquette of patiently waiting one’s turn. She guided her beast forward without hesitation, making it clear she owned this place… or at least acted like she did.

  People scrambled hastily aside, expensive robes fluttering dramatically as they jumped to safety.

  I bit down hard on my tongue to keep from apologizing. The startled victims’ indignant faces shifted instantly upon recognizing Karzi, wide-eyed fear swallowing whatever outraged protest they’d nearly uttered.

  Sorry, but not sorry. You were probably buying slaves.

  Karzi stopped abruptly beside an enormous staircase, carved from the same ostentatious reddish marble with gold accents covering every conceivable place. The staircase swept upwards dramatically, clearly designed for grand entrances.

  Or, in Karzi’s case, flaunting her oversized ego.

  “Dame Karzi, welcome back,” a man in a purple robe gushed, bowing so deeply he nearly kissed the gleaming marble floor. I blinked, wondering if his spine naturally curved that way or if years of professional groveling had permanently warped him. “As one of our best suppliers, may we interest you in a royal meeting room?”

  Karzi jumped down from her beast with an obnoxious flourish, snorting disdainfully. “No need. Just the usual quiet meeting spot,” she boomed in her typical Karzi way, and turned to me. “Girly, you come with me.” Without another glance, she tossed the reins carelessly to the robed man and strode confidently up the stairs, humming an annoyingly cheerful tune.

  “Yes, Dame Karzi,” I replied automatically, trailing behind her like the obedient little mage-slave she insisted I was.

  Karzi, evidently a veteran of this gilded marketplace, navigated the sprawling corridors with ease. Her steps were brisk, almost eager, her humming echoing occasionally against the polished stone walls.

  Am I really that valuable?

  I shook my head sharply, immediately regretting that thought. No, Charlie, don’t start putting price tags on people. That path only ends badly.

  In the middle of yet another overly spacious hallway, wide enough to parade ten Karzis side by side, she abruptly turned and strode through an unmarked doorway, leaving me to quickly scurry after her.

  Stepping inside, I blinked. This wasn’t exactly what I’d envisioned from Karzi’s “quiet meeting spot.”

  The room looked as though someone had thrown a tantrum with red velvet. Heavy curtains hung thickly around the room, muffling sound and casting everything into a dim, smoky haze.

  Countless candles flickered softly, filling the air with a scent like stale perfume desperately masking something darker. An enormous chandelier hung pretentiously from the ceiling, glittering with crystals that were probably fake, pretending to still matter.

  Yeah, real quiet spot, Karzi.

  She sank comfortably into a large, elaborately shaped chair at the head of the arrangement, its heavy frame draped in lush velvet that matched the curtains far too perfectly.

  With a sigh that sounded obnoxiously pleased, she stretched out, propping her feet rudely on the low ornate table and snatching a goblet of pre-poured wine as though it were owed to her.

  I took my designated place beside her… on the cold, polished floor.

  Sure, there were chairs around, inviting in their own plush, arrogant way, but I wasn’t quite ready to test what consequences awaited if I dared elevate myself. Not now, when freedom, at least from Karzi, was so tantalizingly close I could almost taste it. The marble beneath me felt smooth and slightly cold, just uncomfortable enough to remind me of my current role without causing outright pain.

  Deep breaths, Charlie.

  Time to set things in motion. “Dame Karzi?” My voice was soft, deliberately meek. I didn’t even have to fake the tremble.

  “Hmm? Yes, girly?” She raised an eyebrow, wine halfway to her mouth, eyes fierce despite her seemingly casual demeanor.

  I swallowed hard, forcing my nerves back into their cage. “What will you do after you sell me?”

  Karzi laughed heartily, the deep, booming sound reverberating through the velvet-soaked room. She punched my shoulder playfully, though the force of it nearly toppled me sideways.

  Thankfully, I had a death grip on the chair leg. “Curious, aren’t you? Sorry, girly, you’re far too valuable for me to keep! But who knows? Maybe we’ll cross paths again. I’ll celebrate this lovely catch with a grand feast, then head back to the plains to hunt down some other girlies.”

  “Thank you, Dame Karzi,” I whispered, ducking my head respectfully just as the heavy door creaked open, interrupting further conversation.

  Another man swept in, his purple robe even more absurdly ornate than the last I’d seen.

  Honestly, it was so burdened by gold embroidery along every edge that it practically jingled with his every step. Rimelion’s physics clearly had a few things to answer for.

  “I hope you haven’t waited too long, Dame?” His voice was smooth like whiskey poured generously over arrogance.

  Karzi glanced up from her wine, recognition sparking immediate interest. “Mister of the sky himself, hmm? Fancy that.”

  The robed man eased himself gracefully into a chair opposite Karzi, smoothing his heavy sleeves as he did so, managing to look refined even as he settled into the ridiculously gaudy seat. His eyes, deceptively gentle, swept across me briefly. A chill crawled up my spine.

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  Friendly-looking or not, those eyes evaluated me like merchandise.

  “I’ve heard a great deal about you, Dame,” he began, leaning back slightly. “Today, you’re climbing the ladder of contributions straight to the highest rung.”

  Karzi cackled proudly, the laugh edged with a dangerous note of triumph. She grabbed my shoulder and shoved me forward so abruptly I stumbled, nearly sprawling face-first into his lap. “Indeed I am! And this girly here? She’s exceptionally special.”

  “Special?” He raised a skeptical brow, looking down at me with a carefully neutral expression. “She must be quite extraordinary indeed, if you brought her directly here instead of depositing her in our barn.”

  Oh, a barn, really? Perfect. I filed that away neatly for future bonfire planning.

  “Oh, I’ll show you just how extraordinary,” Karzi smirked, setting her goblet down with a loud click. “This girly single-handedly took down a termite queen. Level five now, and climbing.”

  “Impressive,” the robed man conceded with polite, detached interest, though clearly not yet convinced. “But hardly unique enough to warrant—”

  “Quiet, old man! Let me finish!” Karzi laughed again, though her tone shifted dangerously, daring him to interrupt again. “She took it down with magic.”

  “Magic?” Now genuine curiosity flickered in his eyes, briefly overtaking the carefully maintained boredom. “Interesting indeed. Very interesting. Show me.”

  “Right here?” Karzi asked, though her grin made it clear she didn’t care for his answer. Before he’d even fully nodded, she barked at me, “Attack him, girly!”

  Thankfully my body reacted before my mind caught up.

  Instinctively, I sprang upward, icy mana already swirling in my palm. A spear crystallized instantly, glistening under candlelight as I launched myself toward him, thrusting the spear forward with precision.

  It shattered harmlessly against his overly ornate robes, leaving no trace of damage whatsoever.

  My pride stung at the utter lack of impact.

  Without pause, I rebounded off the wall, drawing mana deeper, forming a blade of frost mid-flight. It shimmered beautifully, deadly and graceful as I executed a textbook imperial piercing strike, aimed directly at his chest.

  The blade shattered again, completely ineffective.

  I somehow managed to create a skill, but I filed that for later. Meditation time. Ignore it for now, please, Charlie.

  Before I could adjust or retreat, he casually lifted a hand. A bright green beam flashed, striking me squarely. My muscles froze instantly, limbs going numb as I crashed ungracefully to the floor, skidding slightly across the polished marble, humiliation hot on my cheeks.

  “Impressive,” the man remarked mildly, sounding barely more enthused than if I’d shown him a particularly interesting trick with a spoon. “Level five, spirited, and talented with magic. But does she possess a class yet?”

  “No,” Karzi gloated, leaning back with supreme satisfaction. “Found her fresh at level one. Completely wild slave, no prior bindings, no class. Already combat capable at level five. So tell me, Mister Sky, what’s your offer?”

  It took them half an hour to agree on a price.

  Half an hour of haggling, false laughter, back-slaps, and exaggerated sighs. Apparently, selling or buying slaves directly was illegal.

  Well, directly anyway.

  Instead, the whole unpleasant business had to be funneled through “certified brokers.” Which, in this case, meant men in purple robes with too much gold trim and not enough decency.

  When they finally settled on a price, it was… Nope. Not going there. It didn’t matter how absurdly expensive I was; still bad. Very bad. And yet, the part of me that liked shiny things was grudgingly impressed.

  Still, BAD CHARLIE!

  After Karzi pocketed her gold, there was the awkwardly named “handover procedure.” Being a slave came with mandatory humiliation: the dreaded “slave outfit.” They forced me into a rough, itchy, horribly brown garment that screamed “I have zero rights,” so everyone in this city could instantly recognize who, and what, I was. Thankfully my clothes absorbed it, so I could always change on a thought.

  Stepping out of that horrific gilded hall into daylight felt like emerging from a fever dream into an entirely new nightmare.

  Karzi led the way, swaggering like she’d just won a battle, while I followed obediently behind, flanked by the other slaves. Guilt gnawed at me as I noticed their bitter glances at my oddly privileged position; close to Karzi, ahead of them.

  My worth was—

  Stop it, Charlie.

  My inner voice snapped sharply, mental slap included. Was this some stupid elven trait? Hormones warping my brain, making me feel superior? More tests needed, but later, when my life wasn’t actively spiraling into worse disaster.

  The streets eventually spilled us out into a vast, sprawling square dominated by a towering obelisk that stabbed defiantly into the sky.

  It was enormous, ten stories tall and carved from that same rosy marble I’d grown to loathe. Its base was incredibly wide. All over its polished surface were deeply inscribed runes that pulsed rhythmically with a pure, menacing red glow.

  Something about it made my skin crawl.

  Karzi approached this sinister binding stone confidently, Mister of wonderful Skies or something, his name I refused to learn, trailing slightly behind, followed closely by their purple-robed entourage, each member bearing gold trims of varying extravagance, probably indicating their ranks.

  Our wolf retinue surrounded us, heads raised, proudly announcing our presence with howls that bounced annoyingly off every polished surface, echoing endlessly through the square.

  As Karzi placed her palm flat against the obelisk, she reached out to shake hands ceremoniously with Mister cloudy Sky. The moment their hands met, a visible pulse rippled outward from the stone.

  Around me, the other slaves instantly flinched, eyes watering, knees buckling under some unseen pressure.

  I blinked, confused, and dropped awkwardly to my knees, feigning the same discomfort, though nothing had actually happened to me. My heart jumped when several suspicious eyes immediately turned my way.

  “Ha! Told you the girly’s bind’s special!” Karzi’s cackle grated against my nerves. “Try her out!”

  Mister Sky’s eyebrows arched with curiosity as he motioned me over with a curt command, “Come here, slave.”

  So… he was officially my new master now? I felt no magical compulsion to obey, but caution was the better part of not getting killed on the spot, so I meekly shuffled toward him.

  He thrust a dagger into my hand, his face disturbingly calm. “Kill yourself.”

  Instant crisis mode activated!

  My mind screamed in panic.

  Thoughts racing at a thousand miles an hour.

  They wouldn’t actually let me die… right?

  This had to be a test.

  My grip tightened around the cold hilt of the dagger, knuckles whitening painfully.

  I could heal myself.

  Or fight my way out.

  I had options.

  Summoning every shred of courage, I plunged the dagger downward, squeezing my eyes shut against the expected pain.

  But the pain never came.

  Instead, the moment the blade grazed the coarse fabric of my humiliating brown slave outfit, it vanished instantly.

  Poof, gone.

  Not even a trace of glittering dust remained.

  My eyes snapped open. Mister Sky didn’t reassure me, didn’t even spare me a glance. Instead, he nodded approvingly toward Karzi, his voice dismissive yet satisfied. “Good. Pleasure doing business with you.”

  My heart thudded in my chest, each frantic beat reminding me I was still very much alive, yet utterly shaken.

  Okay.

  Okay, Charlie.

  Calm.

  Down.

  I forced my breathing to slow, willing my pounding pulse back to a manageable rhythm. I need to get to Earth today. Closing my eyes, I gathered myself, and one thing crystallized clearly in my mind:

  The rebellion I’d start in this city would claim at least three heads. Minimum.