Katharina felt the sandy ground against her sore cheek.

  Her tears were pooling on the side of her nose.

  Slowly, the coarse feeling of her body lying on the dry courtyard pavement brought her back to her senses, and with it came the throbbing sensation in her shoulder with each pulse of her heartbeat.

  Before her was a pair of gold-beaded sandals, dust-dulled but finely made, Katharina blinked, eyes tracing upward along the hem of dark embroidered fabric, until her gaze met a stranger’s.

  He was staring at her.

  A man, beautiful in a way that didn’t seem fair. His blond hair caught the sunlight like silk, and his blue eyes were so unnaturally clear they seemed carved from the tears of a god. They had a piercing quality to them, like they were boring into her soul.

  Why is he staring?

  Why isn't he helping?

  Their eyes lingered on each other, just for a breath, just long enough to make it feel like it meant something, and then he looked away, his expression unreadable.

  Before Katharina could wonder what the man wanted, she saw the gold-beaded sandals walking away, and then something inside her shifted.

  An incessant urge welled up in her. An urge she could not explain the origin of. She wanted to return to the damp cells she had just been released from. She wanted it so badly, like a thirsting animal in search of water.

  Paralyzed by this overwhelming feeling, Katharina lay helpless as the well-dressed man from earlier, whom she was now sure was a human trafficker of some kind, had come over and was unschackling her wrists.

  Almost like clockwork, as soon as the shackles hit the ground beside her, her body moved stiffly, weakly, but without hesitation. She staggered to her feet. No one was holding her back, the brutes far enough away that she could probably outrun them, if she bolted for the gate. And she realized she could run. She should run. But her legs weren't responding.

  Run, dammit.

  Go.

  Instead, her feet turned the wrong way, back toward the door she had come from. Her head screamed no, but her body walked calmly, step by step, like this was the only thing to do.

  What am I doing?

  Why am I not running away?

  Before she knew it, she was back on the cold cell bench, sitting upright, her hands folded in her lap like a well-trained doll. She steadied her breathing; it was the only thing left she still seemed to control. Her face just stared forward, unfocused, as if her eyes might forget how to blink.

  Time passed, not in moments, but in the shifting of light.

  At first, the cell glowed with the soft gray haze of morning. Then, as the sun climbed, the sliver of light that had crept across the floor retreated, leaving the space dim and still. Later, it returned, golden now, brushing the opposite wall with the warmth of afternoon.

  She had not moved. Not once. Not even to shift her legs or lean her head against the wall. A full day had passed, and her body remained frozen in place, not because she didn't want to move, but because something else inside her had overwhelmed any want she might feel for herself, a quiet, invisible command pulsing beneath the skin, emanating from her burning shoulder.

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  She wanted to get up. To stretch. To lie down and cry or scream or curl into herself.

  But she didn't.

  It was as if she no longer had a will of her own.

  She didn’t even turn her head when the hinges squeaked and the cell door creaked open.

  Has it been unlocked the entire time I've sat here?

  She rose and followed, her steps steady, her breath shallow, trailing close behind the man she had bitten earlier. A fresh bandage wrapped his forearm now. She eyed it with the cold, dull instinct of an animal waiting to strike.

  She would bite him again if it would help her escape. This time, she would bite even harder; she would rip out a piece of him if that was what it took.

  But the more she thought of biting him, the more a painful burning flared up in her shoulder. So she let her thoughts return to an empty numbness.

  She followed the man back to the examination room. The room was still dim and uninviting. But now a woman stood waiting, sharp-eyed, dressed in a crisp uniform that spoke of status without rank. Next to her was the man, who had examined her and talked with customers in the courtyard, the boss of this place. The trafficker.

  The woman held a piece of parchment in one hand, which she scanned with quick, deliberate glances as she looked Katharina up and down. She spoke, short, clipped questions, none of which Katharina understood. But her tone was unmistakably clinical.

  “???’? ? ??? ???????,”

  The woman remarked, tilting Katharina’s chin with her knuckles, looking intently at the small gash on Katharina's cheek.

  “∞? ??λ?? ?ナ????”

  The woman's gaze zoomed out, taking the entirety of Katharina's bare torso in.

  “∞????,”

  The trafficker said, voice coated in sugar.

  “??? ?Φ?∞ ?? ∞???χ° 木χ??χ???.”

  He let his fingers brush against Katharina's arm, like a hand model presenting a jewel. The gesture made Katharina flinch, surprising not only herself but also the two onlookers. I moved.

  “°?? ????? ??? ? ?????. ??? °?? ナ?????∞ ???’χχ ???° ??????∞??”

  The woman's voice now had a hint of concern, but something else was mixed in, intrigue, or perhaps the greed of someone evaluating a promising investment.

  “??χχ,”

  He chuckled nervously as he rubbed his hands together in a circular motion.

  “??? ????∞Ω? ???∞’? ?χ??°? ψ??木?ナ?. ??? ??? ???∞? ?? ????∞Ω. °?? ??∞’? ???? ?∞° ψ???χ??? ?????.”

  Every question was met with an answer before it finished leaving the woman’s mouth. He spoke quickly, warmly, like they were discussing cuts of meat or antique vases. Nothing that would care. Nothing human.

  At last, the woman lowered the parchment. And a final question was asked.

  “°?? ??° ??? ????∞’? ?ψ??Φ?”

  “??? ????,”

  The man replied smoothly. His grubby fingers moved as if trying to wave the question away, like a politician dodging the point by presenting a different one.

  “λ??? ∞?? ?∞°???∞Ω ?? ?∞??????∞?. ??’? 木????Ω∞.”

  The woman gave a small, satisfied hum and reached into the pouch at her waist. From it, she pulled six flat, circular stones, glowing faintly with a shimmer that echoed the burst of light Katharina had seen when she was branded. Only now it was dimmer, like the light was contained.

  “χ??? ???∞??∞? ??χχ ψ?° O Φ??∞?.”

  She tossed the six stones onto the desk. They landed with a metallic klink, spinning once before settling. Each bore a mark, not quite a rune, not quite a seal, something unique and impossibly intricate, like it had been etched by magic itself.

  The man bowed slightly, the smile blooming only after the woman had turned away. It was a private smile, curved and silent, meant only for himself and the weight of those coins.

  That’s it.

  I’ve been sold.

  I’ve been fucking sold.