As Nox moved closer to the balcony railing, his eyes swept across the crowd below, rows of chained men and women, faces hollow with exhaustion and fear. He searched for one face, one trace of his brother. He looked closely to see if there was one person with curly blonde hair, but it wasn't an easy task as slaves' faces and hair were covered in soot.
All of a sudden, something else caught his attention. Torven, beside him, had gone rigid.
Nox turned his head towards him. Torven stood frozen, his eyes were opened wide and glassy, and his breath seemed caught in his throat. Torven's fists were clenched so tightly that his knuckles whitened, and his whole body shook like a string pulled too taut.
"Torven?" Nox murmured. "Hey, are you okay?"
There was no response. Torven's gaze was locked on one of the elevated seats near the auction platform.
"Nox," he finally whispered, his voice brittle. "That man. Over there. Sitting with the traders. It's him."
Nox followed the direction of his stare.
At first glance, the man didn't seem threatening. He was overweight, his greying beard was trimmed neatly and he was dressed in a wine-red coat embroidered with golden thread. He reclined in his chair like some kind of royalty, had a silver goblet in one hand, and his other hand was tapping the carved armrest as if he were bored. But his eyes... they seemed pale and calculating, roaming the slave pens with some casual cruelty, like those of a butcher sizing up his next carcass.
"That's the one who bought me," Torven continued, voice growing sharper. "Years ago. I never forgot his face, I just couldn't do it, no matter how hard I tried."
Nox's stomach turned. Now, looking closer, he could almost see that man's true nature, how his gestures, at first seeming lazy, were brimming with power. He wasn't just a naive merchant. You could tell he thoroughly enjoyed this. The kind of man who bought people like Torven and broke them in some kind of twisted amusement, not just in body, but also in spirit.
And around him sat others, buyers in similar private booths, sipping wine and chatting softly. Some seemed more serious, others more relaxed, but every single one of them came here with the same purpose. A masquerade of civility draped over something monstrous. There were dozens of them. Perhaps forty. Nobles, traders, perhaps some officials too. All gathered together to purchase flesh.
Nox exhaled slowly. "Torven, we can't do anything at the moment. Not like this."
"We need to leave," Torven said, as if he'd read Nox's thoughts. "Let's regroup. Bring others. We need a bigger team to take care of this. Let's then come back and burn this place to the ground."
Nox nodded, already moving toward the exit. But when he grabbed the handle, it didn't budge.
"What...?" he whispered. He immediately realised it was locked from the outside.
Before he could say anything more, a voice echoed across the hall, amplified.
"Esteemed guests, we thank you for your patience," the auctioneer began, stepping onto the platform with theatrical flair and a large smile, "We now offer you a rare delight. An unlisted, very unexpected prize..."
Nox's heart dropped.
Their booth lit up like a stage, harsh and unforgiving, every shadow was stripped away. And both warriors stood in the spotlight. In an instant, the low murmur of the crowd died as the entire crowd turned toward them, eyes wide with curiosity and hunger.
"Oh shit," Nox breathed.
The door behind them exploded open. Armed guards poured in, there were four, maybe six of them, moving with brutal efficiency. Nox started turning towards them, ready to pull out his sword, but something slammed into the back of his skull. The world spun. For a split second, he saw Torven yelling and a grin on the auctioneer's face, expressing his satisfaction. Then darkness swallowed everything.
.....
When Nox awoke, he was in a completely different place.
Gone were the gold booths and velvet chairs. The lounge and the open air of the viewing chamber disappeared as well. He was in a cell of stone and silence and on his own. 'Torven must've been taken to another cell.' He thought to himself, praying that was the case, hoping Torven was still ok.
He was underground now, that much was clear. The air was thick and stale; it felt dirty and smelled of mildew. The walls were close, blackened by soot. A single iron shackle held his ankle, chained tightly to the base of the wall. The floor was damp, and there was no window. No daylight, the only light filtered in faintly beneath the single wooden door. That was also the only access to his cell.
Nox had no idea how long he'd been unconscious. Hours? Or perhaps days?
His gaze dropped to the floor. There, near the corner, were faint carvings, scratched into it with fingernails or scraps of metal. Crude images. Names. Symbols. Childish stick figures and tally marks. Who had drawn it? A child? A man losing his mind? Maybe someone was trying to leave proof that they existed? Perhaps one of these had been Torven's...
Was this what Torven had endured as a child? For years?
He didn't know.
His mind clung to two things.
Abram and Torven. He had to survive for them.
He dragged himself upright, leaning on the wall for balance. His knees trembled as his body was weak from hunger and thirst, but he didn't care. He filled his lungs with stagnant air and then...
"ABRAM!" he screamed, the sound tearing through him, echoing off the stone like a war cry.
His voice broke, but he didn't stop.
"TORVEN!"
It rang out again.
"CAN YOU HEAR ME? I'M HERE!" His voice cracked, raw with desperation. "I'M STILL HERE!"
His words bounced back to him, twisted and hollow, as if the cell itself was mocking him. He sagged against the wall, breathless, chest heaving.
Days passed, or what felt like days. Time very slowly slipped away in the dark. Nox ate nothing. Drank nothing. Hunger coiled in his gut like a beast gnawing at his insides. The silence became deafening. He did wonder if he was just going to rot inside of this cell like that.
But not long after that, iron hinges shrieked, and two guards entered his cell. They didn't speak. The first guard kneeled and unhooked the chain from the wall. The second grabbed Nox by the arm and hauled him up. Nox stumbled a little bit but did not fall. It was clear they were about to take him somewhere now. He stared at the passage ahead.
Whatever awaited him ahead, punishment, interrogation, or worse, he had no power to stop it. But his teeth clenched with quiet resolve. They would not break him. Not while Abram and Torven were still out there.