The journey dragged on for days that bled into one another. The sun blazed like fire by day, and at night the cold winds cut through their thin rags. Hunger gnawed at their bellies, thirst dried their tongues, and the whips tore at their backs when their feet slowed. Ellie could hardly tell how much time had passed since Zoya's body was left behind on the road, but the ache of loss burned like a wound that refused to heal.
At last, after what felt like an eternity, the horizon revealed walls. High, wooden palisades loomed over the weary captives. Towers stood at the corners, where guards with spears and bows watched like vultures. The slavers shouted triumphantly as they drove their prisoners forward.
"Heiyen," one of the guards spat the name as though it carried weight.
The village gates creaked open, and Ellie's heart thudded painfully as she was herded inside. Heiyen was not just a village—it was a marketplace of misery.
Stalls lined the streets, some filled with spices and fabrics, others with cages holding animals. But the largest stalls of all were the pens, packed with human beings. Men, women, even children—chained and waiting to be sold like cattle. Voices rose around them: merchants haggling, guards barking orders, spectators laughing at the misery on display. The air stank of sweat, blood, and smoke.
The captives were shoved into a large hall that reeked of damp wood and fear. The room was dim, lit only by lanterns. In the center, a platform stood where slaves were examined before being sent to their fates.
The first to step forward were the men. They were stripped of what little rags they wore and shoved into a pit at the far end of the hall. There, behind wooden bars, beasts waited—wolves with glowing eyes, a bull with sharpened horns, even men twice their size who looked bred for nothing but killing.
"Fight!" the guards barked. "Prove your worth, or die!"
Ellie's stomach lurched as she watched one of the captives; a young man no older than Joren, thrown into the pit with a wolf. The boy screamed, raising a broken spear they had handed him, but the wolf lunged faster than his arm could move. Blood sprayed across the dirt. The spectators cheered, throwing coins into the air.
Joren stood near Ellie, his face pale, lips trembling. He had once sworn to kill a slaver, but now his wide eyes betrayed the terror in his heart. Ellie wanted to whisper comfort, but she had none to give.
Then came the women's turn.
"Strip them!" a guard commanded.
The captives whimpered as they were forced onto the platform. Ellie's chest tightened as she realized what was coming. She tried to shrink back, but the rope pulled her forward with the others.
An old man shuffled into the room. His robe was crimson, embroidered with golden threads, and his beard flowed long and white. But his eyes were not the kind eyes of a grandfather; they were cold, sharp, calculating. He carried himself like a judge, but his touch was that of a predator.
"Elder Xiao," one of the guards announced, bowing.
Elder Xiao did not speak at first. He simply raised a hand, and the examinations began.
One by one, the women were stripped bare. Elder Xiao's hands wandered across their bodies, squeezing, prodding, as though testing livestock. He pinched their breasts, tugged their nipples, inserted fingers inside their vagina, played with the clitoris to make sure of what his master wanted. Sometimes he sniffed their skin, sometimes he murmured words only the guards could hear. The women sobbed silently, their shame drowned out by the cheers of the spectators who peeked from behind the wooden rails.
When Ellie's turn came, her pulse thundered in her ears. They pushed her onto the platform, and Elder Xiao's gaze swept over her like a blade.
"Remove her rags," he ordered.
"No!" Ellie shouted, thrashing. The guards seized her arms, forcing her down. Panic surged, hot and wild. She headbutted the nearest guard, who yelped and staggered back, blood spurting from his nose.
The room gasped.
"You dare?" Elder Xiao's voice was low, venomous.
A fist slammed into Ellie's stomach, stealing her breath. Another hand cracked across her cheek, making stars burst before her eyes. She refused to cry. She refused to give them the satisfaction.
Her rags were torn from her body, leaving her exposed. Elder Xiao's guard held her down while the examiner reached out, his fingers rough and merciless. He groped her breasts, pinched her nipples until she winced. He stroked the small hair on her vagina then—without hesitation—slid two fingers inside her.
Ellie bit her lip until blood filled her mouth, refusing to scream. She could taste iron, feel humiliation crawl across her skin, but she would not give him her voice.
Elder Xiao withdrew his fingers, sniffed them with a grotesque smirk, and then licked them. A murmur of approval rippled through the room.
"Too skinny," he said flatly, wiping his hand on his robe. "Not fit for my master."
The guards dragged Ellie off the platform and shoved her aside. She stumbled to the ground, her body shaking, shame and fury boiling in equal measure.
From where she lay, she caught a glimpse of the pit again. Men were still fighting beasts, blood staining the dirt. Some fell and never rose again, their bodies dragged out like broken dolls. Others staggered on, their eyes hollow, their spirits shattered.
Ellie's fists clenched in the dust. The humiliation, the cruelty, the endless suffering—she could not let it consume her.
"I will not end like this" , she told herself fiercely. " I will not remain a slave. I will escape. I will fight, even if it kills me."