Days bled into one another in misery. Heat scorched by day, biting cold by night. Ellie had no sense of time anymore. Her body dragged along the earth tied to a horse, every stone scraping her flesh, every root slicing her skin raw. When the horse lifted its pace, she was pulled across like a discarded sack of grain, her naked body gathering cuts and bruises too numerous to count.
Her hair, once flowing with a healthy sheen, now matted in blood and dirt, trailed like a forgotten banner in the dust. Her lips cracked from thirst, her throat raw from silent screams. The sun burned her fair skin, blistering it, peeling it, turning it red before the night winds froze her bones again.
Yet worse than the weather was the cruelty of men. Whenever one of the other slaves dared to cover Ellie with a torn cloth or tried to sneak a bite of food to her parched lips, punishment was swift and brutal. Sometimes it was a beating so merciless the helper could barely crawl again. Other times it was death; swift, loud, and cold.
One evening, when the air was thick with dust and the march slowed, an older man among the captives, his ribs jutting through paper-thin skin, reached for Ellie. He tore half of his ragged tunic and tried to drape it across her body.
The act of kindness lasted only seconds.
A slaver's whip cracked the silence like thunder.
The slave master himself stepped forward, his fat frame lumbering as if the earth was too small to hold him. His face glistened with sweat and oil, and his breath stank of rot. His eyes, beady and cruel, fixed on the old man.
"You dare waste your filth on her?" he growled.
The old man trembled but didn't back away. "She is dying. Mercy costs nothing."
The master laughed, a thick, guttural sound that made even the guards shrink. "Mercy?" His blade flashed.
The man's head rolled into the dirt before anyone could gasp. His body slumped forward, blood spreading across the ground like spilled wine.
The other captives whimpered, clutching their chains. Ellie didn't scream. She couldn't. Her swollen eyes barely opened.She prayed for death..
The slave master wiped his blade on his filthy trousers. "Let this be clear!" he bellowed. "Touch the whore again, and you share his fate!"
The guards cheered, amused by the display. Some even laughed, nudging one another as if it were theater.
Ellie's eyes closed again. Darkness was safer than light.
The march continued. Hot weather blistered her skin. Cold nights left her shivering, teeth clattering. Each sunrise was a curse, each sunset another reminder she still breathed.
At night, when the campfire's glow spread across the encampment, her torment grew worse. Guards took turns on her, dragging her body across the dirt, using every hole as if she were no more than livestock. Their laughter pierced her ears louder than her own muffled cries. By day, she was dragged stark naked for all to see. By night, she was reduced to an object of release. Humiliation wrapped tighter than her bonds.
Ellie began to hate herself...not just the slavers, not just fate, but her own existence.
Weeks later, the caravan crested a ridge, and beyond it sprawled a kingdom unlike any Ellie had ever seen in her own time.
Valayria.
The sight should have stolen her breath, but Ellie's lungs barely held air anymore.
Tall white walls, so high they seemed to scrape the sky, circled the kingdom. Their edges glimmered with runes of protection, symbols carved into stone by ancient hands. Towers crowned the walls, each flying scarlet banners embroidered with a dragon's head. Beyond the gates stretched avenues wide enough for ten carriages to ride abreast. Domes gleamed in the sun, gold-plated roofs catching the light. Statues of kings and queens rose high, though the current rulers were said to be nothing like their ancestors.
The people bustled at the gates: merchants haggling, soldiers in polished armor marching in formation, beggars sprawled at the feet of nobles. The kingdom reeked of power and wealth, but underneath, rumors whispered of the queen's cruelty and the king's weakness.
As the slave caravan approached, the gate guards halted them. "What filth do you bring?"
The slave master puffed his chest. "The best flesh of Luo Shoi and beyond. Fighters, workers, breeders. A worthy haul."
The gates opened slowly, grinding with the weight of stone.
The caravan moved forward. Chains clinked. Whips cracked.
But when the onlookers caught sight of Ellie, dragged behind the horse like a dead animal, murmurs rose. Men spat on the ground. Women clutched their children.
"What filth," one merchant sneered.
"She reeks of death," muttered another.
The slave master, proud and loud, shouted above the whispers. "This bitch tried to escape! Look at her now! This is what disobedience earns!"
Laughter echoed from some, pity from others, but no buyer stepped forward for her. She was no longer merchandise. She was a spectacle.
Deals began. Buyers circled the captives, examining bodies, asking prices.
An older noblewoman pointed at Mikoko, her eyes sharp. "This one. Strong back, good for my estate."
Another man, dressed in silks, paused at Lucien. "Broad shoulders, young, and not yet broken. He'll serve well in the pits."
Gold exchanged hands. Chains rattled as ownership shifted.
Amidst the bargaining, Mikoko bent close to Ellie. Her voice was low but firm. "Girl, you must become fearful and powerful. Save us. Make these men pay."
Ellie didn't reply. Her blank eyes stared into nothing.
The slave master raised his hand to strike Mikoko for daring to speak, but a buyer blocked him. "She's not yours anymore. Touch her, and you insult me."
The master grinned with crooked, yellow teeth. "Of course, noble sir. Forgive my temper."
As coins clinked, as laughter and business filled the air, Ellie remained tied to the horse at the rim of the kingdom's gate, nothing more than discarded flesh.
And then...a man appeared.
He was covered in a veil, a fine robe draped across his frame, walking swiftly, almost too swiftly, as though shadows themselves pursued him. His gait was anxious, glances cast over his shoulder every few steps. His eyes are sharp, darting, measuring every exit, every guard, every gaze.
When he neared the gate, his eyes met Ellie's.
For a moment, his stride faltered.
She was a ghost in the sun, skin blistered, lips cracked, eyes hollow. Naked, humiliated, beaten to the point of collapse.
His stomach clenched. No one deserves this.
Before his pity could deepen, a guard's voice cut the air. "Who are you?"
The man stiffened. Then bowed slightly. "A slave buyer. Just bought one. I am leaving."
"Where's your slave?"
The man's heart stuttered. His eyes flicked, and without thinking, he pointed. "There. That one."
The guard frowned at him. "You'll leave your filth without it?"
The man cursed himself silently. "I'll take her."
He walked back slowly, every step heavy with the weight of decision. He reached Ellie. Her body slumped, head bowed, breath shallow.
He bent to untie her ropes. His fingers trembled, not from fear of discovery but from the shame of seeing what men had made of her. He didn't let his eyes stay on her naked form.
"I don't know you, and you don't know me," he whispered. "But I'm about to save you. Do me one favor....pretend I'm your master. Don't disrupt my plan. After we're out, find your way. If you're caught, you never knew me."
The knots loosened.
He glanced at her face again...no flicker of life, no words, only hollow silence.
He muttered, almost to himself, "This isn't life. Not like this."
Removing his robe, he wrapped it around her frail frame. "At least this."
He lifted her onto the horse, then climbed after.
"Hyah!"
The horse bolted, hooves striking the ground like thunder.
Behind them, the gates closed, and the slave master still bickered over prices, unaware.
The man grinned under his veil. "Yes… yes! Woohoo!"
The horse thundered down the dusty road, leaving Valayria's gates shrinking behind them. The man tightened his grip on the reins, cloak whipping in the wind. His heart pounded—not from the chase, for no one pursued yet, but from the weight of his decision.
He leaned toward the girl slumped in front of him. "Hey… we're clear now. You hear me? You're safe for the moment."
No reply.
The horse galloped further, the land changing as the sun slid lower. The city's grandeur gave way to scattered farms, then to a stretch of wild terrain where trees bent under the wind. He pulled the reins, slowing the beast, scanning the surroundings.
A meadow opened ahead, quiet except for the rustle of grass. Perfect for a pause.
He tugged the horse to a halt and swung himself down. His boots sank into the earth. Then he turned to lift the girl.
His chest tightened.
Her head lolled, her mouth parted, lips pale. Her eyes were rolled white, unseeing. Breath rattled in her throat like the last embers of a dying fire.
"Shit," he muttered, hands trembling. "Shit, shit, shit."