As he went backstage to meet the slave he had just purchased, he stood in front of her, studying her expressions, which carried the same eerie aura as before. The collector, noticing the defiance displayed by the slave, tried to correct her behavior, before it would get him in trouble with her new master.
"You insolent being! Don't you know you shouldn't stare your master in the fac-"
He faltered as the slave slowly turned her head toward him, a smirk playing on her lips. Her eyes held no good intentions, ready to strike if he uttered another word. The intensity of her stare was unexplainable.
Dorian, witnessing this, couldn't look away. He urged the collector to continue, a light smile tugging at his lips as he watched the scene unfold.
"N...no sir, I...I wasn't saying anything," the collector stammered, sweat forming on his forehead.
Dorian smiled mischievously, He wondered how one look from his new slave was enough to render the collector speechless.
"No, I'm sure you were saying something, Go ahead, don't be scared," Dorian encouraged.
"I...I was just saying she is a perfect choice for you," the collector replied, faltering under Dorian's gaze.
Dorian stared at him for a long moment, weighing whether to let him go or not. Finally, he let out a soft chuckle before exiting the Crimson Dais, with his new slave following behind with her head held high.
They entered the gilded Antechamber, its decor shimmering with quiet excess, Velvet curtains framed the gilded walls, and low chandeliers casted a golden glow across the polished white marble floors. The room buzzed with nobles sealing deals with the collectors and making connections, while their slaves stared at the ground, stripped of freedom.
They walked quietly through the crowd, everyone creating space for the both of them , as no one dared meet Dorian's line of sight. As they exited the Antechamber, the subtle clanking of chains echoed behind him. He slowed his steps and turned.
He followed her line of sight to see that she was staring at an antique vase.
Her steps faltered, hands trembling. As her feet moved back and forth, wanting to go to the vase and at the same time, wanting to stay with Dorian her. He stepped forward to stand beside her, shielding the vase. She looked up, eyes rimmed red, breathing heavy, cheeks quivering. Then a small smile broke across her face, a smile that carried sadness, feral pain, joy, and the promise of something dark.
******
They approached a barouche. The coachman quickly opened the door, noticing his master from a distance, his eyes narrowed at the figure following. From her clothing and the shackles adorning her, it was clear she was a slave. Arabella, noticing his stare, met it with darkened eyes,but unlike the collector from the crimson Dais, the Coachman was unflinching, he's gaze didn't falter for a moment.
Duran reclined within the velvet interior, the soft cushions muffling the sound of shoes on cobblestones. Golden lantern light spilled through the windows, casting warmth across his closed eyes. She sat across from him, unblinking, emotions flickering across her face.
After a long ride, they stopped in front of a large, dark mansion, surrounded by endless forests. Tall windows gleamed faintly beneath the moonlight. Dark balconies jutted from the walls, and an oppressive darkness seemed to linger both inside and out. The most striking feature was the four dragon-sculpted gargoyles at the front two flanking the entrance, two perched atop the mansion like secret guardians.
At the mansion's entrance, a woman in her late thirties awaited them, though the bright red of her eyes made her age difficult to judge.
"Welcome home, Master Dorian," she said with a formal smile. From her attire, she was clearly a maid.
"Marguerite led her to the servants' quarters", Dorian said, walking inside. Then he paused, turned back, and approached her. He gripped the iron shackles around her neck, hands, and feet, breaking them off.
The instant the shackles fell, the desert in her eyes seemed to vanish, carried away like dust in the wind. Her sharp gaze softened into confusion, as though awakening from a long dream and Dorian's eyes caught every fleeting emotion.