(Celeste)
It had been only a day since her capture when Celeste was herded off the shuttle and down the ramp. Her head throbbed where a bruise bloomed from the last fight, but worse than the ache was the humiliation—she was marched into daylight naked, not even given a scrap of cloth.
Heat flushed her skin, but she refused to let them see her break. Chin high, shoulders stiff, she walked like she still had a choice. She had been trampled on enough in her short life. She would not give them her tears.
They led her to a looming building. Up close, its grandeur was a lie—the paint peeling, the steps creaking underfoot, wallpaper torn and water-stained. Inside, it reeked of rot and resignation.
But when the doors opened, Celeste's breath caught. A dozen women turned to stare at her, every one as bare as she was. They were dazzling—skin in jewel-tones, scales, extra limbs, alien grace. Even the human women were porcelain perfection with dark, glossy hair and fragile frames. Next to them, Celeste felt clumsy, ordinary. A sunburnt farm girl.
"This is where you'll remain until the auction begins," Sisisky announced. "Romana!"
An older woman bustled forward, eyes sharp as knives. "I'll see to her."
Celeste was tugged down a hall and into a bathing room, so lavish it jarred against the decay outside. A massive tub gleamed, already filling with shimmering blue water that sparkled like liquid gems.
"This will heal the marks on your body," Romana explained, adding a vial of purple liquid. "The bruises will fade."
Celeste nearly scoffed—until warmth spread through her limbs, the ache in her head eased, and her muscles loosened. Her sigh betrayed her.
Romana worked in silence, scrubbing away years of dirt, plucking every stray hair, smoothing Celeste into something she hardly recognized. When the makeup was done and the curls dried to shining gold, Romana turned the chair.
The reflection in the mirror was a stranger—eyes rimmed in kohl, lips gleaming, hair like spun sunlight.
Celeste reached up, tugged out a color lens, and revealed the truth. One eye, pale sky-blue. The other, an unnatural emerald green, flat and lifeless.
Romana gasped. Celeste smiled bitterly at her reflection. Let them see the cursed girl now.
But the old woman only tisked. "Oh, child. That will not repel them. It will only make them fight harder for you."
Celeste's stomach knotted. The curse she had thought would protect her was now another mark of rarity.
When Romana rubbed a final oil across her skin, Celeste's body flushed, unbidden, under its strange warmth. She clenched her teeth against the reaction.
"You are ready," Romana said simply.
Celeste was led back into the holding chamber. Every woman's eyes turned on her again, but this time the dismissive glances had sharpened into venom. Envy. Hostility.
Before Celeste could puzzle it out, Sisisky returned, clapping his hands. "It is time, ladies. Line up."