Page 3

Three

L eonie awoke to movement.

The walls of her cage vibrated softly, the rhythm of motion humming beneath her like a massive engine thudding somewhere below. A new light filtered in—pale and sterile, far brighter than the eerie glow of her prison cell. When she sat up, her heart caught in her throat.

She was no longer in the cage she knew.

Now, she was in a clear container—glass or something like it—with bars running vertically along its sides. A crowd bustled beyond, strange figures moving in and out of her blurred field of vision. A platform. A stage. Her prison had become a display case.

A market .

Leonie pressed her hands against the transparent wall, her breath fogging the surface. The air outside buzzed with alien voices—clicks, hums, and garbled tones—none of which made any sense to her. It was like standing in the middle of a language she couldn’t even begin to decipher.

A slender figure stepped forward. The first “buyer,” she realized grimly.

It was tall and grey, with a narrow body and elongated limbs. Its skin looked soft and rubbery, and its three-fingered hands moved with curious precision. Large black eyes blinked at her—too slowly. Its mouth opened to emit a series of high-pitched tones, melodic and almost childlike.

It tilted its head. Studied her like one might inspect fruit in a market stall. A hand reached up, tapping at a data tablet on the other side of the glass. Then it walked away.

The next made her blood run cold.

Red-skinned. Broad-shouldered. Humanoid, but clearly not human. Its skin gleamed like lacquered stone, and it wore a heavy suit of dark, metallic armor fitted with glowing strips and whirring servos. Across its back, weaponry bristled—some kind of bladed staff, and something else shaped like a cannon.

It stared directly at her, unblinking. The breathing holes along its jaw flared, and it said something in a guttural, grinding language. The sound alone made her flinch. It bared its teeth in what might have been a smile—or a threat.

She backed away from the glass.

Then, silence.

The next figure stepped forward, and the crowd seemed to still.

He was tall. Easily a head taller than any other being on the floor. A long, black cloak trailed behind him like living shadow. His form was obscured by robes layered with intricate symbols that glowed faintly, their meaning lost on her. His face was hidden behind a smooth mask of dark metal etched with swirling patterns. No eyes. No mouth. Just the mask.

He moved like liquid—elegant, silent. Even the air around him seemed to hum in a different frequency.

Leonie held her breath as he approached.

He stood before her for a long moment. Said nothing. Then, slowly, he reached out with a gloved hand and ran his fingers through her hair. A shiver crawled down her spine—not of fear, exactly, but something colder. Something older.

He spoke.

The words were like music made from a language she could not hope to understand. Deep and rhythmic, layered with strange tones that seemed to resonate inside her chest more than her ears.

Whatever he said, the crowd behind him parted. Some even bowed.

Then came the bidding.

Lights flared across the room, flashing red and green. Symbols raced across digital panels suspended in the air. Voices called out in a dozen alien tongues, each announcing a number, a price, a claim.

Leonie pressed her hands to her ears. Her cage vibrated with the noise. Panic welled in her chest.

And still, the cloaked figure stood silently, unmoving.

Waiting.