Page 4

CHAPTER 4

I t began with a tone: shrill, metallic, echoing through the market.

Then came the glyphs.

They flared to life above her transparent cell: glowing shapes, alien numerals she couldn’t decipher. They pulsed in midair, shifting with every new bid.

It took Sylvia a moment to understand.

They were bidding.

On her .

Her stomach turned. “No,” she whispered. “ No, no, no. ”

But it didn’t stop.

Figures pressed toward the platform—dozens of them. Creatures of every shape and size, waving devices, issuing commands to floating consoles. Voices overlapped in a frenzied mess of languages: clicks, snarls, trills, and mechanical tones.

She staggered back, hitting the rear wall of the display cell.

The tall, gray-skinned alien with the glassy black eyes and razor-thin limbs started the bidding. Then came the red brute—the same one who had touched her earlier—shouting in some gravelly language, his claws flashing as he barked his bid.

A thick, slug-like being chimed in next, its voice a wet slop of vowels that made her gag. Then another, a being made entirely of overlapping scales and chitin, its mouth constantly moving as it spoke through what looked like translator tech fused to its jaw.

All of them. Staring at her. Competing.

Competing to own her.

Sylvia's pulse thundered in her ears. She could hardly process the horror. Every motion, every raised device, every flickering glyph above her cell chipped away at what was left of her reality.

She backed into the corner, trembling.

And then, her mind… slipped. Just a little.

She felt distant. Detached. Like she was floating above herself, watching someone else go through this nightmare.

Maybe she was breaking. Maybe that was the only way her brain could cope.

She watched the red brute bark a final bid, his body tense, victorious.

And then it came.

A voice.

One word.

Spoken in a language that carried no translation, but reverberated through her bones like the crack of a mountain splitting in half.

Low. Deep. Measured.

The market silenced in a single breath.

The glyphs froze in the air. The lights dimmed.

And the crowd moved.

Not because they were pushed.

Because they knew.

They parted like prey sensing a predator. A ripple of unease passed through the gathered aliens: hushed murmurs, clicks of disbelief, warbled warnings. Even the red brute took a step back, his snarl cut short, confusion contorting his features into something like fear.

Sylvia didn’t understand… until she saw him.

He walked through the opening crowd without haste, without comment.

And the moment she laid eyes on him, the air seemed to vanish from the room.

He was enormous. Tall and broad, every inch encased in armor so black it drank the light around it. There were no glowing sigils, no adornments, no rank markings. Only pure, endless black, like a void given form. The armor moved like liquid metal, seamless, flexible, and somehow wrong, as if it weren’t made for this universe.

A helmet covered his head: sleek, sharp, angular. No eyes. No mouth. Just a single, brutal visor that gave away nothing.

Weapons lined his body. Thick, high-caliber cannons on his back. A jagged blade on one hip. Strange alien tech along the other. Devices Sylvia couldn’t even begin to comprehend. All of it silent. All of it deadly.

And from his back, tightly folded…

Wings.

Not feathered. Not delicate.

But massive. Armored. Segmented. Built of the same void-black material as the rest of him. They shifted slightly with each step, an ominous whisper of movement that felt more biological than mechanical.

He didn’t speak again.

He didn’t have to.

The auctioneer—a floating orb with mechanical limbs—issued a low, pulsing tone. The bid was final. Accepted.

The other bidders turned away, some muttering in disbelief, others simply vanishing into the shadows. Even the red brute seemed to shrink, his victory stolen. Fear hung in the air like smoke. Not one dared protest.

Sylvia couldn’t breathe.

Her cell began to lower slowly from the stage, the translucent panels folding back with a whisper.

She stood, frozen.

The black-armored being moved to meet her descent. His posture unshifting. His intent unknowable.

She stared at him—her new owner—and felt every drop of blood drain from her face.

This… thing. This force in the shape of a man.

No.

Not a man.

An alien.

It hadn’t needed to shout. It hadn’t raised a weapon.

It had spoken.

And won.

She didn’t know if she should scream or faint.

When the cell touched the ground, she stumbled forward on trembling legs.

The being waited. Still. Silent.

He made no move to approach her.

But Sylvia knew.

There would be no resistance. No escape.

He had claimed her with a word.

There was no way she could fight this… thing.

And now she was his.