It was him.

The mysterious man. The Sarki.

And the moment our eyes met, I felt a strange sense of familiarity as though I had been searching for him without even knowing it. Whoever this man was, I knew he could either save me or break me.

What terrified me most was that I didn’t know which he would choose.

Nothing had ever pulled me out of a panic attack before. Nothing.

But his voice had.

Who was this man?

And why did he have such power over me?

I forced myself to look around the room, if only to tear my gaze away from him. The space was plain modern, almost sterile. No warmth, no character, nothing to distract me from the man at its center.

He sat in silence, still as stone, his presence filling the room. His gaze was steady, unrelenting, as if he were weighing something about me.

I gripped the edge of the dress the Oracle had given me, wishing it could shield me from the intensity of his eyes.

Why hadn’t he said anything yet?

What was he seeing when he looked at me, just a broken girl dragged from death’s grip?

Whatever it was, I couldn’t shake the feeling that my fate rested entirely in his hands.

“It’s you,” I whispered, unable to look away.

“It’s me,” he replied with a small chuckle.

Heat rushed to my cheeks, and I quickly lowered my eyes, embarrassed.

Up close, I felt how small I was in comparison. How fragile. The dress I wore hung loosely on my frame, unable to hide the truth— I was skeletal, worn down, as though the life had been drained out of me long before this moment.

Whoever had left me like this had taken so much. Too much.

My legs trembled so badly I thought they might give out beneath me.

“Sit,” he said, his voice firm.

It was as if I had been waiting for permission. My body sank to the floor before I even thought about it.

His frown was immediate. “The floor is not for sitting. That’s why we have chairs.”

I froze, shame burning through me. Slowly, I rose to my feet and chose the chair farthest from him. I couldn’t bring myself any closer. The fear in me wasn’t entirely about him, it was older, deeper, carved into me by someone else long before this moment.

“Come closer,” he said. “Sit next to me. I want to look into your eyes and know you’re telling me the truth. The eyes never lie.”

I hesitated, heart pounding in my chest, but eventually I stood and obeyed. My steps felt heavy, reluctant, until I lowered myself into the seat beside him.

The air shifted between us, and for a moment his nearness made me hyper aware of every inch of myself, of how hollow I must have looked beside him.

And then his eyes met mine.

No one had ever looked at me that way. Not with such intensity, not with such command, as though he could strip every lie and every truth from me without a word. My stomach knotted, and I had to force myself not to look away.

“We’re at the outskirts of a small village near the forest,” he explained. “It took three days to get here, though we were meant to spend five. You were in such bad condition we wanted to reach a healer as quickly as possible. My men are in the village now, gathering supplies. We have about three days left before we reach my kingdom, and we won’t be stopping again until then.”

He leaned forward slightly, still holding my gaze.

“But before that happens, I want to know something. Who are you, and how did you end up in that forest? I need to know everything, because I cannot just take anyone into my kingdom.”

I look straight at him, weighing how much truth he deserves. My mind flashes back to what those monsters did to my mother, and rage swells in me hot, wild, unstoppable. My blood feels like it’s boiling. Then I remember his promise… and I know.

This is my chance. My chance to make them pay.

Right then, I decide exactly what I’ll say.

“I lived on the outskirts of a small village in the south,” I begin, my voice steady but distant. “It was secluded, hidden away by the land itself. Few visitors ever came not only because of how isolated it was, but because of the chief’s ruthlessness. Life there… was survival. Nothing more.”

The words drag me backward, into the shadows of a life I thought I’d buried.

“I grew up with only my mother. We weren’t part of the village by choice and by force. She was hated for having a child outside of marriage. No one knew who my father was. The only reason the chief didn’t have her killed was because she was a herbalist. She healed the sick, delivered babies… saved lives even for those who despised her.”

I glance at him briefly, just enough to confirm that he’s listening, before the memories start spilling faster, heavier.

“The villagers all knew of me, but they never saw me. Mother kept me hidden, safe from their cruelty. Nature was my only friend. When she went into the village, I’d slip into the forest my sanctuary. She said the woods would protect me. I learned how to vanish when people came too close, how to melt into the trees until I was part of them. Sometimes, when the loneliness grew heavy, I’d ask why I couldn’t play with the other children. She’d just smile and say my time would come. She always told me I was special, meant for great things. But what mother doesn’t believe that?”

The memory pulls at my chest like a thorn. I swallow, my breath shaky.

“One night, pounding at our door woke us. Guards demanded my mother come out. She told me to hide under the bed, and I obeyed, holding my breath, straining to hear. She came back minutes later, already dressed, grabbing her leather bag of herbs. She whispered that the chief’s wife was in labour, that she had to go, and told me to stay hidden until she returned. Not a sound, she said. They can’t know where you are.”

I remember nodding in the dark, biting back every urge to speak.

“She returned at dawn. Her footsteps were heavy. I crawled out when she called me, but her eyes… something was wrong. I asked about the chief’s wife. She didn’t answer just hugged me, smiling a smile that didn’t reach her eyes. I told her to rest while I cooked, but she caught my wrist. Her grip was strong, urgent. ‘No matter what happens, Rosa… fight. Fight to stay alive. You were made for greater things.’ She had said it before, but this time… it sounded like a goodbye. She made me promise, and I did, though my stomach twisted with dread.”

The days after were filled with silence. Mother sat staring at the wall, hardly eating, hardly drinking. Sometimes her hands trembled. I didn’t know what had happened in the village, but I knew it was bad.

“On the fourth day… heavy footsteps came. Mother began to cry. She told me to hide, so I did. The guards burst in. They demanded to know where I was. I heard her begging. Then a slap. My blood froze. Another voice snarled, ‘Come out, or your mother dies.’ I couldn’t bear it. I crawled out from under the bed.”

They grabbed me so fast I barely felt my feet touch the ground. A rough sack went over my head, the stench of old grain and dust choking me. I kicked and screamed for my mother. I heard her cries, her pleas… and then another slap.

“‘Another word and I kill her,’ the guard hissed.”

I went silent. For her.

They dragged me out of the only home I’d ever known, out into a world I had only imagined. I had dreamed of seeing the village one day… but not like this. Never like this.

An hour later, we reached the village. Even through the sack, I heard it the distant murmur of voices, laughter in one corner, a child crying somewhere else. The sound might have been ordinary to anyone else, but to me it felt unreal, cruelly normal… until I remembered the way I had arrived.

My feet throbbed with every step, torn open and raw from being dragged barefoot across rough ground. Warm blood clung to my skin, each movement sending sharp jolts of pain up my legs.

We moved deeper into the village, and the voices faded, replaced by a strange, heavy quiet. The guards exchanged low words I couldn’t make out, and then clang! An iron door groaned open. The sound scraped against my nerves like metal on stone.

They led me down a narrow flight of stairs, damp air wrapping around me like a cold hand. Another metallic click, and the sack over my head was yanked away. I barely had time to blink against the dim light before they shoved me forward.

The cell swallowed me whole. Darkness pressed in from every corner, broken only by the weak, flickering glow of a lantern hanging several feet away. The air was thick with the stench of rot, damp earth, and something sour that coated my tongue and made my stomach twist. The floor was wet, sticky in places, and cold enough to seep into my bones.

“Stay here,” one of the guards said, his voice sharp and final. “We’ll come for you when the chief is ready to see you.”

Panic clawed up my throat. “Please,” I tried to beg, my voice trembling. “I can’t stay here, I’ll..."

Smack!

The slap came so fast I didn’t see it only felt the violent sting explode across my cheek. My breath caught. I had never been struck before, not by anyone. For a moment, my mind went blank.

This… this was the cruelty Mother had warned me about.

The guard’s eyes bore into mine, hard and cold. “You don’t seem to understand,” he said, his voice low with contempt. “You are the chief’s prisoner now. From this moment, he decides where you sleep, what you eat… even what you wear.”

His gaze swept over me in a way that made my skin crawl. I flinched, instinctively stepping back.

Without another word, he turned. The heavy door slammed shut with an echo that rattled through me.

I sank to my knees, pressing my forehead against the cold metal. Tears spilled freely, hot against my chilled skin. My life had been torn apart in the space of an hour, and I didn’t even know what horrors were waiting for me.

---

I don’t know how long I remained locked in that cell. Hours? Days? It all bled together into a haze of hunger, thirst, and dread. My throat burned, my stomach ached, but it was the worry for my mother that gnawed at me most. Was she safe? Was she even alive? Each passing moment made that fragile hope smaller.

The heavy scrape of boots on stone jolted me awake. The same guard appeared, his shadow stretching across the damp floor.

“Come with me,” he barked, already turning.

I stumbled after him, terrified that the slightest hesitation might spark his anger. Up the narrow stairs we went, each step pulling me closer to blinding light. Then the door opened, and sunlight struck my face. Warmth spread over my skin, and for a moment, I could have wept from the simple sight of the day.

We walked. Past wooden stalls, mud-caked streets, and the mingling scents of sweat and smoke. The guard’s pace was brisk, almost impatient, and I struggled to keep up on sore, bare feet. When we turned a corner, I saw it the largest house I had ever laid eyes on.

A crowd had gathered outside, murmuring amongst themselves. My stomach dropped as their eyes fell on me.

These were the villagers who had only heard of me, never seen me. And now, here I was dragged before them like a criminal.

Their stares were sharp. Curious. Cold.

The guard pushed me forward and ordered, “Kneel.”

I obeyed, pressing my knees into the hard earth. Footsteps approached, heavy and deliberate. Curiosity tugged at me, and I glanced up.

A sharp slap snapped my head to the side. “You do not look at the chief unless given permission,” the guard hissed.

I lowered my gaze again, my cheek stinging.

The air around me shifted, thick and suffocating. I didn’t need to see him to feel it, his presence was like a dark shadow swallowing the sun. He stopped right in front of me.

“Your mother,” he said slowly, “took something from me.”

At first, I didn’t understand. My mother was no thief she lived simply, honestly. “My mother would never ”

Another slap, harder this time, split across my face. Metallic blood pooled in my mouth.

“Do not speak unless I tell you to,” he growled. Then his voice dropped into something colder. “Your mother killed my wife.”

The words slammed into me. I couldn’t breathe. My mother was a healer she gave life, she never took it. But I knew better than to argue.

“So,” he continued, “in return, I will take you from her. A life for a life. Fair, don’t you think?”

The way he said it made my skin crawl. My mother’s words echoed in my mind: You need to fight, Rosa.

“Speak,” he commanded.

I lowered myself further, my palms pressed into the dirt near his feet. “I beg you to spare my life.”

He chuckled darkly. “And why would I do that?”

Panic clawed at my throat. “Because… I am hardworking.”

He laughed again, low and sinister. “I have enough slaves. What use are you to me?”

“My mother taught me everything she knows,” I blurted out. “Herbal medicine. Healing. I could serve the village, tend to the sick… you would have me close, under your control.”

His eyes lingered on me, searching for deceit. At last, he said, “You will stay here, in this village, as my servant. You will never see your mother again. She is banned from entering, and you are banned from leaving. If you try, I will kill you both. Do you understand me?”

“Yes,” I whispered.

Even in those first moments before him, I knew he meant every word. My protector was gone, my freedom stripped away but if obedience was the only thing keeping her alive, then I would obey.

For now.

The maid led me toward the servants’ quarters, her steps brisk and her eyes avoiding mine. We weaved through narrow, dusty paths lined with clay walled huts, passing villagers who paused their work to stare. Men leaned on worn walking sticks, their brows furrowed in disapproval. Women clutched their baskets tighter, whispering behind their palms. Even the children barefoot, curious looked at me as though I were some strange creature that had wandered into their world by mistake.

It was then I finally understood why Mother had kept me away from this village all my life.

The quarters I was given could hardly be called a room. Barely wider than the narrow bed pushed against the wall, with a single square window set so high I had to stand on tiptoe just to glimpse the sky. The air was stale, carrying the faint scent of damp clay and old straw.

Days blurred into weeks. I worked myself to the bone scrubbing floors until my knees ached, tending to the sick until my hands smelled of herbs and sweat, doing whatever was necessary just to stay alive. I kept my head low, my words few. Yet no matter where I went, eyes followed me. Cold, judging eyes. Disdain clung to me like smoke.

It’s funny, I thought, how people hate what they cannot understand.

The worst part wasn’t their hatred toward me it was hearing how they spoke of my mother. The woman who had spent her entire life keeping them alive, caring for them in sickness and hunger, and yet, in their mouths, her name was nothing more than a curse.

One night, after another exhausting day, I collapsed onto my bed, sleep pulling me under almost instantly. But I was yanked back to wakefulness by a rough shake on my shoulder. My heart pounded as I shot up, my eyes struggling against the dark.

A figure loomed above me. For a moment, fear locked my body still. But then the shadows shifted and I saw her.

“Mother?” My voice cracked.

Without thinking, I threw my arms around her. I had dreamed of this moment every single night since we were torn apart.

“We need to leave,” she whispered urgently.

Still half dazed, I struggled to piece together her rushed words. She told me how she had sold everything she owned to bribe a guard who promised to help us escape. My head spun, struggling to catch up.

“How will we survive? The chief knows where we live he’ll come for us,” I whispered back.

“Traders arrived a week ago and they will be leaving this night,” she said, her eyes darting to the door. “I spoke to one. He agreed to hide us and take us when he leaves. We’ll work for him for a year without pay, but we’ll be free.”

She was ready to leave everything behind her home, her reputation, her whole life just for me.

We slipped into the night with nothing but the clothes on our backs. Outside, the village was alive with drunken laughter and pounding drums the festival of the moons. Mother told me this was our only chance; everyone would be too distracted or too drunk to notice.

We crept through winding alleys, past sleeping dogs and abandoned stalls, until we reached the far edge of the village. Behind a stack of firewood, half hidden by vines, stood a narrow wooden gate. Its hinges groaned as we eased it open.

The forest swallowed us whole. Damp air clung to my skin, and the leaves whispered above us as if urging us forward. My heart raced half in terror of being caught, half in the wild thrill of freedom.

Eventually, we reached a small clearing. Mother told me we had to wait for the trader’s signal. Every minute stretched into eternity. Then, at last, a faint light blinked three times in the darkness.

“That’s him,” she whispered.

We hurried toward the glow until a shadowy figure emerged. Without a word, the trader gestured for us to follow. He led us into his tavern, the air thick with smoke and old ale. There, in a cramped, windowless room, we hid as the night deepened.

When the time finally came, we boarded his covered wagon. “Not a word,” he warned. The wheels began to roll, and hope surged inside me. We were leaving. We were free.

The wagon jolted to a sudden stop after a short while . Darkness pressed around us so tightly I couldn’t even see my mother’s face. We clutched hands, our breaths shallow, as muffled voices drifted from outside. Then came heavy footsteps.

The doors swung open.

Torchlight spilled in, and my blood turned to ice. We weren’t on the road to freedom. We were back in the village back before the chief’s house. Villagers crowded around us, their eyes burning with hatred sharper than any blade.

“You promised to help us!” Mother cried, her voice breaking as she turned to the trader.

His reply was cold as stone. “I cannot risk my life for you. My loyalty is with the chief, he is my greatest client. Did you truly believe I would betray him?”

The ground seemed to tilt beneath me. Freedom had been nothing more than an illusion.

Then I heard his voice, the chief’s voice cutting through the crowd like a blade.

“You think you can leave this village without my blessing?” he said, his words thick with mockery. “No one leaves without my permission.”

At that moment, I realized freedom had only been an illusion.

Mother fell to her knees instantly, forehead pressed to the dust, hands trembling as she clutched at his ankles. “Please, I have served you well,” she cried. “Let me and my daughter go.”

The Chief’s face twisted with contempt. Without warning, he struck her hard across the face. The sharp crack echoed in the air, drawing gasps and cruel laughter from the onlookers. My stomach clenched as I watched her stumble, blood bright against her lip.

“It seems I have made you too comfortable,” he spat. “I should have slit your throat the moment you dragged this bastard into my village. But I had mercy” his lips curled into a cruel smile“and mercy, as of today, is over.”

With a snap of his fingers, guards seized her. My breath caught. “Today,” he roared, “you and your brat will serve as an example. No one defies me.”

They dragged Mother to the center of the square. Her eyes found mine wide with fear, but still she tried to smile, tried to shield me from the horror even now. My chest burned as tears blurred my vision.

The guards stripped her bare while the villagers jeered. My ears rang with their shouts, their laughter, their joy in her suffering.

The first whip cracked. She arched, her jaw clenching tight to hold back the scream. The second lash broke her silence raw, jagged sound tearing through the night. Each strike carved into her back until her skin split open and blood ran down her spine.

I lunged forward, but rough hands caught me, gripping my arms so hard I thought they’d snap. “No!I screamed, thrashing against them. My voice was swallowed by the crowd’s roar. Women hurled rotten fruit at her, their eyes alight with hate. Children pointed and laughed, their giggles mingling with her cries.

When the whips finally fell silent, her head sagged forward. Her body hung limp, her chest unmoving.

My scream tore from my throat, raw and unrelenting. I wrenched free of the guards and stumbled to her side, collapsing beside her broken body. Her flesh was shredded, glistening with blood, her breath gone.

“Mama!” I sobbed, clutching her lifeless hand. “Please, wake up… please…”

But the only answer was the echo of the crowd’s laughter.

A bucket of icy water slammed into us. Mama jerked, gasping, and for a moment I thought hoped it was mercy. But before that relief could take root, the Chief raised his hand again.

Another guard stepped forward, carrying an iron rod glowing red from the fire pit. Its tip sizzled, the heat bending the air around it.

My stomach twisted, but I didn’t understand. Not until they forced Mama onto a wooden platform, spreading her legs for everyone to see.

“Since you are a whore,” the Chief sneered, “let us give you what you crave.”

The words hit me like a slap. But the act oh God, the act was worse than any nightmare. They drove the rod into her.

Her scream was not human. It was the sound of something breaking forever. The stench of burning flesh filled the air, choking me, clinging to my skin. My vision blurred with tears, my own throat tearing as I screamed with her.

She collapsed, her body limp, unconscious. I thought it must be over. Please let it be over.

But the Chief only smirked. He took up a hammer, stepped forward, and with one brutal strike severed her head.

Blood sprayed across the dust, warm, metallic, clinging to my tongue and throat.

“This,” he announced, lifting her head high for all to see, “is the fate of those who defy me.” Then he tossed it into the crowd.

They played with her head. Kicked it. Laughed.

My body shook so violently I thought my bones would splinter. My scream wouldn’t stop, it clawed its way out of me until I couldn’t breathe.

The Chief came to me then. He crouched so close I could smell the sour wine on his breath. His voice slithered like a snake into my ears.

“I have been merciful to you and your mother,” he hissed, “even though she killed my wife and my unborn child. But mercy ends today. Now you will know what hell feels like. From this moment forward… you are my slave.”

Before I could answer, the door creaked open and Zane, his right-hand man, stepped inside.

“The guards are here, Sarki. We’re ready to leave.”

Koa turned back to me. “You’ve done well, little one. We will continue this when we reach my kingdom. I have been away too long it’s time to return to my people.”

I swallowed hard. “You’ve heard my story,” I said quietly, “but I still know nothing of why I’m here.”

He paused at the doorway, his gaze locking on mine. “Know this, little one: I am a man of my word. I will tell you everything, and I will keep every promise I make to you. Life has not been fair to you… you may not believe me now, but with time you will.”

Without another word, he turned and left with Zane at his side.

I had never trusted a man. But for the first time in my life, I wanted to.