Page 6

Six

T he ship sealed around her like a dream, soundless and seamless.

Leonie crossed the threshold, and it felt as if she’d stepped not into a vessel, but into the heart of something alive. The air was subtly perfumed, not with anything familiar, but something sweet and mineral, like ozone after lightning. The walls were curved and smooth, absorbing light more than reflecting it. Pale veins of silvery-blue pulsed gently beneath the surface, like blood through an alien skin.

With every step, her unease deepened.

Her bare feet touched the warm floor: smooth, unmarred, almost glass-like. It was clean, meticulously so, but the sensation of her skin against it unsettled her. Each step reminded her she didn’t belong here. That she wasn’t prepared. Not for this place. Not for any of it.

She glanced ahead at the two figures leading her.

Tall, silent, unnervingly graceful.

They were humanoid—more so than any of the creatures she’d seen in the auction hall—but there was something off about them. They moved like dancers, each gesture purposeful, fluid, as though their very bodies had been trained to obey an aesthetic law she couldn’t perceive. Their pale skin shimmered faintly under the lights, and the subtle rise and fall of narrow gills along their necks told her what their perfectly still faces did not:

They weren’t human.

Not even close.

Their hair was obsidian-black, impossibly smooth, and their eyes—featureless, liquid black—reflected nothing. They didn’t look at her. Didn’t speak to her. When they spoke to one another, it was in that same language the masked one had used: low and melodic, like water over stone, threaded with something sharp and ancient.

Leonie followed in silence, her heart thudding, her mind a riot of fear and speculation.

Why was she here?

What did he want?

Her imagination grasped for answers, wild and scattered. Medical experimentation? Breeding? Labour? Entertainment? Some kind of trophy? A pet?

Her stomach clenched.

Pleasure?

The thought came unbidden, and she nearly stumbled.

Her cheeks flushed with shame. Not just at the idea—but at the uncertainty. He hadn't touched her. Hadn’t said a single word she understood. But his presence had spoken volumes. He hadn’t bought her out of mercy. That much was certain.

Her pulse ticked louder in her ears. She could still hear the single word he’d used to end the auction. Still see the way the others had shrunk from him. He hadn’t needed to threaten. His authority was intrinsic—like gravity. He was power.

And now she belonged to him.

No escape. No rescue.

Even if she found a way out of this ship, where would she go? She didn’t know what planet she was on. Didn’t know the language. Couldn’t even identify a door without help.

I’m trapped.

That thought hit like a blow to the chest.

No escape. No help. Not anymore.

The corridors narrowed slightly, and the lighting dimmed to a soft gold as they arrived at another chamber. The door dissolved open, mist spilling outward like exhaled breath.

A cleansing room.

She hesitated, but the attendants waited patiently, wordlessly. They didn’t push her. They simply bowed, elegant and remote, then stepped back, leaving her to enter alone.

Inside, warm vapor rose around her. Water—soft and scented—fell in smooth arcs from the ceiling, surrounding her in a gentle, perfect rainfall. The mist swirled with some perfumed cleansing agent that smelled of crushed leaves and electric minerals. She expected surveillance. Prodding. More humiliation.

But it never came.

This ritual, unlike the brutal sterilization back at the station, was oddly gentle. She was cleansed, and when she stepped from the mist, new garments awaited her—laid neatly on a curved bench of pale stone.

A gown. Deep green. Silken, heavier than it looked, with sleeves that slid across her arms like breath. The skirt fell around her legs in flowing layers, split to allow movement. Modest, compared to what she’d worn before. More… dignified.

A gift?

No. Not a gift.

A presentation.

They dressed her with reverent silence, then placed soft slippers on her feet. When she looked down, the soles shimmered faintly—like something made from spun light.

It would have been beautiful—if it weren’t so unreal .

There was a click. A swirl of a hand. And then, to her surprise, the collar fell away. The servant took it, along with the strange glowing wristband.

At least she was free of those things now.

But what did it all mean?

She was led onward, up a curving staircase of translucent crystal that pulsed beneath her feet. Every step felt like ascending into some impossible dream—or a velvet-lined prison.

Her quarters were waiting.

The room was large, domed, softly lit from above by unseen sources. The floor was smooth and iridescent, the walls dotted with glowing script that shifted when she looked at it too long. At the center stood a bed—grand, circular, surrounded by gossamer netting suspended from a point so high she couldn’t see where it was anchored. The net shimmered with violet and silver, like moonlight trapped in silk.

Everything was seamless. Curved. Organic. Luxurious.

And utterly alien .

A soft chime.

She turned.

One of the attendants entered silently, bearing a tray. He didn’t look at her. He bowed—low, his long fingers brushing the floor—then placed the tray on a low, gleaming table before retreating without a word.

Leonie stared after him, chest tight. Even they won’t look at me. Why? What am I to them?

She approached the food warily.

It was art.

Sliced meats that glistened like precious stones. Spiral-cut vegetables in vivid colors she couldn’t name. Floating orbs of golden liquid suspended in crystal glasses. Tiny, trembling squares of some gelled delicacy that glowed faintly when touched.

She hesitated.

Then hunger won.

Each bite was strange: delicate, unfamiliar, but divine. The raw meat melted like butter. The blue-green root was cold and sweet. One sliver of pale fruit left a trail of cold sparks along her tongue.

“I really hope none of this kills me,” she muttered, voice dry and thin.

When she finished, she curled onto the bed, legs pulled to her chest. The fabric was soft as breath, but the ache inside her would not ease.

Her thoughts wandered.

To Alfie. To the flat. To the sound of her phone’s ringtone. To the friends who might still be calling. Searching. Hoping.

To Earth.

To everything she’d lost.

And inevitably… to him .

The masked one. The lord. The shadow that now owned her. Who walked with reverence and made entire rooms fall silent. Who’d looked at her once and brushed her hair aside with a gloved hand like she was something precious. Something claimed .

What do you want from me?

What are you?

And, most terrifying of all…

What will you do to me?

She closed her eyes, but there was no peace.

Only the soft, glowing silence of the alien chamber that held her.

And the certainty that her life would never be her own again.