The children were exhausted after another day of drills. Sweat clung to their faces, sparks of mana still flickering across their fingers. When they returned, the mistress was waiting outside the hall with a smile that felt too wide, too sweet.
"You've all grown so well," she said, her voice dripping warmth. "Tonight, you feast. To mark the year's passing… and your bright futures."
The children, hungry and unsuspecting, cheered at the sight of roasted meat, steaming bread, and fruit piled high on the tables. Kairo glanced at Igron, suspicion flickering in his crimson eyes, but Igron only shrugged. Food was food.
They sat, laughing, arguing over sparring matches, devouring the meal laid before them. Even Kairo allowed himself a small smile when Selaih pushed half her portion toward him.
But soon, the laughter dimmed. One by one, heads drooped against the table. Fingers loosened on cups and spoons. The warmth of the food was replaced with a heavy drowsiness that weighed down their limbs like chains.
Kairo blinked hard, his vision doubling. The room tilted. He tried to push himself up, but his body betrayed him, sinking into the wood of the bench. Igron's voice slurred somewhere beside him, a muttered curse drowned in sleep.
The last thing Kairo saw before darkness swallowed him was the mistress's smile sharpening into something cold and victorious.
"Sleep well, little treasures," she whispered. "Tomorrow, you belong to the highest bidder."