“Move it, princess. Your grand debut awaits.”

The guard’s boot connected with my ribs as he shoved me down a stone corridor that reeked of mold and something far worse.

My knees scraped against rough granite, the magical shackles making every movement agony.

Three days in that cage had left me hollow, but nothing could have prepared me for this.

The underground amphitheater stretched before us like something from a nightmare.

Tiered stone benches surrounded a circular platform, packed with creatures that made my skin crawl just looking at them.

Pale beings with too-sharp teeth.

Others wreathed in shadow that seemed to move independently.

A woman whose skin shifted colors like oil on water.

And the smell. Fear hung thick as smoke, mixed with something metallic that made my stomach lurch.

“Welcome to the Obsidian Market.” The guard’s grin showed yellowed teeth. “Premier destination for discerning buyers with particular tastes.”

They herded me toward a row of iron cages along the amphitheater’s edge.

Inside the first, a girl who couldn’t be older than fifteen pressed herself against the bars, silver tears streaming down dirt-stained cheeks.

The next held an elderly man whose hands shook with palsy, his healer’s mark still glowing faintly despite obvious exhaustion.

“Please.” The girl’s voice cracked as I was shoved into the cage beside hers. “Please tell me someone’s coming for us.”

I wanted to lie, to offer comfort I didn’t possess. Instead, I gripped the bars until my knuckles went white. “What’s your name?”

“Lila.” She wiped her nose with the back of her hand. “I was just helping my grandmother with her arthritis. That’s not illegal, is it? That’s not worth… this?”

“No.” The word came out fiercer than I intended. “It’s not.”

A bell chimed somewhere in the darkness above us. The crowd’s murmur shifted to hungry anticipation as a figure strode onto the platform—tall, elegant, with skin like polished obsidian and eyes that burned like coals.

“Ladies, gentlemen, and esteemed beings of discerning taste,” his voice carried without effort across the stone chamber, “welcome to tonight’s exceptional offerings.”

My blood turned to ice water.

“First up, we have a lovely hedge witch. Seventeen years old, specializes in fertility magic.” Guards dragged a struggling girl from the far cage onto the platform. “Bidding starts at five hundred gold.”

“Six hundred!” called a creature whose face was hidden beneath a hooded cloak.

“Seven!” This from something that looked human until it smiled, revealing rows of needle-sharp teeth.

The numbers climbed while the girl sobbed. When the hammer finally fell at two thousand gold, her new owner—a gaunt man whose fingers ended in claws—licked his lips with obvious anticipation.

“No,” Lila whispered beside me. “No, no, no…”

Five more healers followed. Each sale felt like watching an execution in slow motion. The elderly man went to a necromancer who spoke fondly of “extracting every drop of useful essence.” A middle-aged woman was claimed by representatives of a demon court who discussed her breeding potential in clinical detail.

Then they came for me.

“And now,” the auctioneer’s voice rose with theatrical excitement as rough hands hauled me toward the platform, “our crown jewel. Pure-blood healer, trained in the old ways, with power that could restore the dead themselves.”

The spotlight hit me like a physical blow. I squinted against the glare, seeing only shapes and shadows in the audience, but feeling their hunger like heat against my skin.

“Note the silver threading in her magic,” the auctioneer continued, forcing my shackled hands up for display. “Rare bloodline markers. This one could heal mortal wounds, break curses, perhaps even grant immortality to the right buyer.”

“Lies.” My voice cracked, but I forced it louder. “I heal sick children. That’s all.”

“Modest too.” The auctioneer chuckled. “Bidding starts at five thousand gold.”

“Six thousand!” The call came from a section draped in black silk.

“Seven!” This from a creature made of living shadow.

“Ten thousand!” A woman’s voice, honeyed and dangerous.

The numbers exploded upward. Fifteen thousand. Twenty. Twenty-five. I stopped listening, focusing instead on the desperate plan forming in my mind. If I could somehow break these shackles, channel enough power to—

The amphitheater doors exploded inward.

Stone dust rained from the ceiling as smoke billowed through the ruined entrance. Something strode through the haze—tall, broad-shouldered, moving with predatory grace that made even the supernatural crowd pull back in their seats.

He stepped into the light, and my breath caught.

Silver eyes blazed in a face carved from shadow and starlight. Black hair fell across sharp cheekbones that belonged on ancient statues. Power radiated from him in waves that made my healer’s senses scream warnings.

“Fifty thousand gold crowns.” His voice cut through the shocked silence like a blade through silk.

The auctioneer’s mouth fell open. “I—excuse me, my lord, but the current bid is only—”

“Fifty. Thousand.” Each word carried the weight of absolute authority. “For the healer.”

A demon lord in the front row rose, his red eyes flashing. “Now see here, stranger. I was bidding on that merchandise—”

The silver-eyed man turned toward him slowly. Something in that movement made my primitive brain scream danger. “Were you?”

The demon lord took one look at whatever he saw in those impossible eyes and sat down hard, pressing himself back into his seat.

“Anyone else?” The stranger’s gaze swept the amphitheater. When no one spoke, he nodded once. “Excellent.”

“S-sold!” The auctioneer’s voice pitched high with nervous relief. “To the gentleman for fifty thousand gold crowns!”

The stranger vaulted onto the platform with fluid ease, producing a set of silver shackles from beneath his black coat. These weren’t like the crude iron restraints I wore—they gleamed with intricate engravings that seemed to shift and move in the torchlight.

“Please.” The word escaped before I could stop it. “Please don’t hurt me. I’ll do whatever you want, serve however you command. Just don’t—”

“Hurt you?” He knelt before me, those silver eyes studying my face with an intensity that made my cheeks burn. Up close, I could see the sharp angles of his jaw, the way shadows clung to him like living things. “Little healer, hurting you is the last thing on my mind.”

His fingers were surprisingly gentle as he unlocked my iron shackles. The relief was immediate—feeling rushed back into my hands as the burning pain faded. But before I could savor it, he closed the silver restraints around my wrists.

Warmth flooded through me, different from the iron’s burning cold. This felt like sunlight, like coming home after a long journey. My magic stirred, not suppressed but somehow… contained. Focused.

“What are you going to do with me?” I whispered.

He rose, towering over me, and for a moment something almost soft flickered across his features. Then his expression hardened into unreadable marble.

The corner of his mouth curved upward in something that wasn’t quite a smile.

“Do with you?” He reached out to cup my chin, tilting my face up to meet his impossible gaze. “Sweet, innocent little healer. I’m going to make you my mate.”