---
The sky was overcast again, as if the sun itself didn't want to look at her life.
Elena kept her head down as she poured tea, avoiding Lilith's mocking eyes and her stepmother's silence. No one mentioned Liam. No one asked where she'd been.
No one cared.
But her mind screamed for answers.
By afternoon, when her father left with a satchel of coins and her stepmother dozed by the fire, Elena made her move. She slipped on her cloak and crept out the back door, avoiding the creaky steps like second nature.
She didn't know what she expected.
Hope, maybe. A simple explanation. Anything but the fear curling in her stomach like smoke.
---
The forge was quiet again.
Colder.
She stepped inside.
Ashes filled the hearth, untouched since yesterday. The tools were scattered, half-finished blades forgotten on the workbench.
Something was wrong.
"Liam?" she called softly. "Are you here?"
No answer.
She pushed open the back room door, where the blacksmith usually stored metals and furs.
Her breath caught.
His satchel was still there. His coat. The leather-bound journal he always carried. Everything.
No one leaves without their things.
Elena's pulse quickened. Her eyes scanned the room and landed on something that didn't belong: a small bundle of red fabric shoved behind the barrel.
Lilith's ribbon.
Still damp. Still clinging to soot and iron.
Her fingers trembled as she picked it up.
Why would Lilith be here?
She took a step back—and kicked something.
A chain.
Blood crusted on the end.
No.
Her chest tightened. Her vision blurred.
She didn't know what had happened. But Liam was gone. And Lilith had been here.
She ran.
---
Back at the cottage, no one spoke.
Her father was back. Drunk. Laughing with coin in his hand.
Lilith hummed again. That same haunting melody.
Her stepmother stirred the stew like nothing had changed.
Elena watched them from the stairs.
Watched the lie of her life unravel with every second.
Something was happening. Something awful. And she was at the center of it.
She didn't sleep that night.
Because deep down, she already knew:
Tomorrow, she wouldn't be free.
---
Elena woke to the sound of footsteps.
Heavy. Deliberate. Coming for her.
She sat up, heart pounding. The room was still dark, but shadows moved outside her door.
Click.
The lock turned.
"Father?" she whispered.
The door slammed open.
Her stepmother stood there, candle in hand, face cold as stone. Behind her, two unfamiliar men in hooded cloaks waited.
"Get up," her stepmother said.
"Why?" Elena asked, voice trembling. "What's happening?"
"Don't make this harder than it needs to be."
Elena shook her head. "Where's Liam? What did you do to him?"
Her stepmother's eyes narrowed. "Still asking about that boy? He's gone. He was never good enough for you anyway."
The words stabbed deeper than any blade. She stepped back, but the men grabbed her.
"Stop! Let me go!" she screamed, kicking wildly.
But they overpowered her easily.
One of them yanked her hands behind her back. Cold iron closed around her wrists. Chains. Real chains.
"Please!" she cried. "Father—Lilith—someone!"
But no one came.
Lilith stood in the hallway, arms folded, watching like it was a performance.
"You were always in the way," she said coolly. "Now you'll finally be useful."
Elena stared at her, eyes wide with betrayal.
"You're selling me?"
Lilith's smile was ice. "You'll fetch a high price. Pretty little virgin girls always do."
---
They threw her into the back of a wagon, chained beside others.
Young women. Bruised. Dirty. Eyes hollow. One was sobbing. Another stared blankly at the floor.
The wagon moved. Through the woods. Away from everything she knew.
No one told her where she was going. They didn't have to.
She knew.
---
Hours passed. Days, maybe. She lost track.
They were kept in a cellar beneath the auction house. Cramped, filthy, cold.
Men came to "inspect" the girls.
Sometimes they touched. Sometimes worse.
One tried to drag Elena into the corner.
She fought. Bit him.
He punched her. Called her a whore.
But one of the guards intervened. "Not this one," he said. "She's being saved. Untouched goods sell highest."
That night, she curled into herself, sore, broken, afraid.
She thought of Liam.
Of the kiss. Of the willow tree.
Of what her life could have been.
---
The auction came.
They washed her. Stripped her down. Gave her a sheer white dress—thin as breath, clinging to every curve. No undergarments. Just shame.
Her hair was brushed. Her bruises lightly covered.
"She's the special one," someone said. "Young. Clean. Pure. She'll go for more than the others combined."
Elena stared at the floor, refusing to cry. She would not give them that.
---
One by one, girls were dragged on stage. The crowd roared, hungry and full of coins.
Men gawked. Commented on their hips, their breasts, their "usefulness."
Elena kept her head down, until it was her turn.
---
Silence fell when she stepped out.
She didn't dare look up.
Her bare feet touched the marble platform. The air was cold. Her body trembled.
"She's a rare offering," the auctioneer announced. "Eighteen. Untouched. Look at her—so docile. So innocent."
She clutched the fabric of her dress tighter, wishing it could hide her.
"Twenty gold," someone called.
"Forty," another.
"Eighty."
Her breath hitched.
Then—
"One million."
Silence. The entire hall froze.
Elena's eyes shot up instinctively.
A man stood near the back. Tall. Dressed in black. A silver mask covered half his face—but his eyes…
Red.
Deep, ancient, burning.
They locked on hers like he already owned her.
Elena couldn't breathe.
Why would anyone spend that much on her?
Who was he?
Why did it feel like she had just been claimed?
---