As I pressed onward into the heart of Veythral's slave market, the strange sensation deep within my chest refused to subside.
This was no simple curiosity, nor was it a directed impulse.
It was a feeling of yearning I had never before tasted, one that seeped down to my very bones, a longing I couldn't comprehend.
It was as if a piece of my soul, lost long ago, was calling out to me from one of these wretched streets.
The cacophony around me was unbearable. A different clamor arose from each of the shoddy stalls, cobbled together from mud and rotting wood.
Slave traders bellowed at the top of their lungs to attract potential buyers, endlessly listing the virtues of their merchandise.
"Come here, master! I have the strongest warrior! Worth an army!" one shouted.
Another leaned in to whisper in a potential customer's ear, "The most exotic beauties, unique flowers to enliven your nights..."
