The chamber stank of sulphur and dark magic. Black candles burned along the walls, their
flames shaking even though no wind blew.
The room was silent.
Then the bronze doors groaned open.
Bootsteps echoed across the stone floor. Slow. Certain.
A tall man entered, shadows curling around him like smoke. His long coat dragged behind him,
dark gloves covering his hands.
His face was calm. Handsome, even.
But his eyes held nothing.
Cold. Empty. Dangerous.
He stopped at the center of the chamber, staring down at the ritual circle carved into the floor.
"Begin the scrying," he said.
An old mage stepped forward, hands shaking as he tossed enchanted stones into the circle.
They clattered across the symbols, glowing faintly.
Everyone waited.
The light flickered… then died.
The old mage swallowed. "M-my lord… there is no response."
The chamber seemed to grow colder.
The tall man's expression darkened.
"Dimitri," he said quietly, "bring the Xexas water."
A guard hurried away and returned with a small black flask. Thick, dark liquid sloshed inside,
like moving shadow.
The mage hesitated. "My lord… using that could be dangerous—"
"Do it."
Fearfully, the mage poured the liquid over the stones.
The circle exploded with light.
Candles burst apart. A wave of force swept the chamber, throwing men to the ground. Some
screamed as the symbols burned bright red.
Then, inside the glowing circle, an image appeared.
A silver-haired girl.
Soldiers marched around her as she stumbled forward, fear clear on her face.
The tall man's lips curved into a slow smile.
"Found you."
The image flickered, nearly fading.
His smile widened.
"Dimitri."
The guard dropped to one knee. "Yes, my lord."
"Gather the best night trackers."
His eyes never left the image.
"Send them now."
The vision weakened, but his voice cut through the chamber.
"And make sure that girl is brought to me."
Silence followed.
Dimitri hesitated. "Alive, my lord?"
The man slowly turned his gaze toward him.
A thin, dangerous smile appeared.
"Alive," he said softly. "Untouched."
The remaining candles flickered violently.
He looked back at the fading image of the girl.
"Because," he added, voice low, "she carries something this world lost long ago."
The soldiers shoved Alice into the wooden cart, chains clinking as the wheels lurched forward.
Her face was pale with fear, her eyes swollen and red from crying. Tears still clung to her lashes,
though she tried desperately to hold them back.
Around her, villagers watched in silence. Some pitied her. Others simply looked away.
No one spoke for her.
No one stopped them.
The cart began to roll, its wheels creaking as it left the only home she had ever known behind.
Alice gripped Lisa's shawl tightly in her trembling hands, her heart pounding.
What waited for her now?
Would she be sold to some distant farm, forced to work until her body gave out?
Or something worse?
Stories whispered in the village came rushing back—girls taken away and never seen again.
Sold to cruel masters. Sent to places no one dared speak about.
Her chest tightened as panic rose with every turn of the wheels.
The village slowly disappeared behind her.
And with it, the last piece of her old life.
A sudden jolt woke her.
Alice blinked, confused, her head heavy. For a moment, she didn't remember where she was.
Then the cold metal around her ankles reminded her.
Chains.
She looked around.
Night had fallen. The cart had stopped in a small clearing, soldiers resting nearby. A fire burned
in the center as they laughed, drank liquor, and tore pieces of meat with greasy hands.
No one paid her attention.
Some glanced at her and whispered.
"That girl… she looks strange."
"Look at her hair."
"Silver… I've never seen anything like it."
"And those blue eyes… where is she even from?"
Alice lowered her gaze, shrinking into herself.
A young soldier finally walked toward the cart. He looked uncomfortable, avoiding her eyes.
He held out a small piece of bread and a bottle of water, placing them beside her.
"The commander told me to give you this," he muttered.
For a moment, Alice just stared, unsure.
The soldier hesitated, then added quietly, "Eat. It's a long journey."
Before she could answer, he turned and walked back to the others.
Alice looked down at the bread in her shaking hands.
Long journey?
Fear crept back into her chest.
How far were they taking her?
And why did it feel like this was only the beginning of something much worse?