Leona's eyes, sharp as etched obsidian, swept across the auction floor. Each movement suggested an underlying current of magical potential, like static electricity waiting to discharge.
The auctioneer's voice carried through the chamber, a practised instrument of commerce and control. "First lot! Prime Blaeruak male, approximately thirty harvest-cycles. Tested strength ratings place him in the top percentile for mining and construction labour."
The slave in question was a mountain of graphite muscle. Scars told stories of previous owners, of mines carved into impossible terrains, of construction projects that would have broken lesser beings. His eyes—surprisingly intelligent—held a detached resignation. He was merchandise, nothing more.
