Another scream echoed through the halls, weaker this time but no less desperate. My pulse quickened as I descended the stairs, two at a time, Kiaran's heavy footsteps close behind me.
The air in the lower halls was stifling—thick with the stench of ale and sweat. Lantern light flickered weakly, jagged shadows stretching across grime-streaked walls. The darkness shifted and stretched everywhere I looked, alive with unseen threats.
Ahead of me, Kiaran slowed his pace. His broad shoulders were rigid, and his hand hovered near the hilt of his dagger, the slight twitch in his fingers betraying his tension. 19Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡaF4SG0Ful3
My gaze drifted to his neck, where veins pulsed visibly beneath his skin. He was holding it together, but barely. The sight sent a chill through me. If Kiaran was this on edge, I had every reason to be terrified.
As the muffled voices leaked through the warped wooden door at the end of the hall, my unease deepened. The laughter wasn't light or careless—it was sharp, cruel, laced with venom. I swallowed hard, my hands curling into fists at my sides.
"She thinks she's better than us, huh? Sitting there all high and mighty."
A low chuckle followed. "Bet she's regretting that now. No sister to protect her anymore."
"Maybe we should teach her how to be useful," another voice sneered, sending a wave of nausea rolling through me.
The sight of Estella reminded me of Nyxara, dull......and lifeless.....if only I had not been so focused on that map........
Her silver eyes, once so full of life, haunted me—accusing me of being too late, too blind to save her. And now, Estella... No. I wouldn't let it happen again. Not this time.
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Kiaran's shoulders tensed further, his jaw clenching so tightly I thought his teeth might crack. He didn't look at me, but I didn't need him to. The storm brewing inside him was palpable, radiating off him in waves. I reached out instinctively, my fingers brushing against his arm.
"Kiaran," I whispered. "Please..."
He didn't respond. With one fluid motion, he slammed the door open, the force of it sending a sharp crack echoing through the room.
The scene inside hit me like a punch to the chest.
Estella sat slumped in a chair in the center of the room, her dark curls tangled and damp with sweat. Her hands were clenched tightly in her lap, her knuckles white as she tried to make herself small. Her golden eyes, usually so warm and bright, were dull and glassy, fixed on the floor as though willing it to swallow her whole.
Behind her stood a slaver, his dirty fingers twisted cruelly in her hair. He yanked her head back just enough to make her wince, his grin wide and predatory. Two others lounged nearby—one leaning against the wall with a bottle in hand, the other perched on a table, lazily twirling a knife.
"Look at her," the man holding Estella sneered. "So quiet now. Where's all that fire, huh? Guess you're not so brave without your sister around."
Estella flinched, her lips trembling. "Please . . ." she whispered. "Just stop."
The man with the knife tilted his head, his grin widening. "Stop? Oh, sweetheart, we're just getting started."
That was all it took.
Kiaran moved faster than I could process. He grabbed the slaver by the back of his neck and slammed him into the wall. 19Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡZRDtI4VxFe
The wood splintered under the force, shards scattering across the floor. The air in the room shifted, the oppressive weight of Kiaran's fury filling every corner.
The slaver clawed at Kiaran's wrist, his face turning red as he gasped for air. The knife clattered to the floor, forgotten. The other two froze, their drunken bravado evaporating as they stared at Kiaran with wide, terrified eyes.
"Touch her again," Kiaran growled, his voice low and dangerous, "and I'll make sure you leave here in pieces."
One of the slavers stammered, his voice shaking. "H-he's . . . a demi-god . . . Look at the size of him!"
The air in the room turned sharp, electric. My stomach twisted as I glanced at Kiaran, whose ruby-red eyes burned with fury. He didn't flinch. He didn't speak. He moved.
"Kiaran, stop!" Estella's voice cracked, trembling with panic. "Please!"
She reached forward, her hands shaking as she fumbled with the hem of her dress. Slowly, she pulled it up just enough to reveal her legs. "Look at me!" she pleaded.
Kiaran froze, his grip slackening slightly as his gaze shifted to Estella. Her skin, though trembling, was unmarked. No bruises. No cuts. Not a single scratch.
"They didn't . . . They didn't hurt me," Estella said softly, her voice thick with emotion. "Not like that."
Kiaran's chest heaved, his breath coming in sharp, uneven gasps. Slowly, he let the slaver go, and the man crumpled to the floor, coughing and clutching his throat. Kiaran's hand twitched at his side, reluctant to release the anger still coursing through him.
"I thought . . ." Kiaran's voice trailed off, the words heavy with guilt. His eyes flicked back to Estella, his fury replaced by something quieter. Something almost vulnerable.
I darted forward, dropping to my knees beside Estella. Her hands were ice-cold, trembling as I took them in mine. "Estella," I whispered, my voice shaking. "Are you hurt? What happened?"
Tears welled in her golden eyes as she shook her head. "They didn't . . . They didn't hurt me," she stammered, her voice cracking. "Not like that. They were just being cruel. Because of Mirelle."
Her words hit me like a blow. My stomach twisted as I gripped her hands tighter. "Where is she?" I demanded, my voice rising. "Where's Mirelle?"
Estella's breath hitched, her shoulders shaking as the tears spilled over. "She's gone," she whispered, the words barely audible. "They sold her."
The room swayed around me, the air suddenly too thick to breathe. "Sold her?" I echoed, my voice hollow. "To them?"
She nodded her head towards the slavers as they stood smug.
Estella's hands tightened around mine, her nails digging into my skin. "To the humans," she choked out. "They've been watching her for years . . . waiting for the chance."
Celestial Muse. That's what they called it. A gift—or a curse—that made her irresistible. But to Mirelle, it had always been a burden. "It's not a gift," she told me once, her voice flat. "It's a trap."
I still remembered the way her voice filled the room that night, silencing even the most jaded courtiers. It wasn't just beautiful—it was spellbinding, a force that made you forget to breathe. Mirelle hated it. She hated the way it drew people to her, the way it made her a target.
"Of course," I murmured, my voice barely above a whisper. "Girls like us go missing all the time for the simple fact of having powers the humans desire.
The system has rules: desirable demi-gods stay in the brothels, the powerful are sent to Mors Gravis, and the discarded are sold to nobles or kings. But humans rarely follow their own rules—greed always wins."
But Mirelle wasn't just another girl. The Celestial Muse wasn't just a power—it was a prize. And the humans, with their insatiable greed, had been circling her like vultures for years."
Estella's grip on my hands tightened further, her nails drawing blood. "She didn't want this," she said, her voice breaking. "She didn't ask for any of it. And now they've taken her."
Kiaran's voice cut through the moment like a blade, sharp and unyielding.
"Duenios (slave traders)," he spat, his voice dripping with disdain. "Scum of the earth."
The word hung in the air, heavy and venomous, like a curse. My stomach churned as the weight of it settled over us. Kiaran's hand hovered near his blade, his knuckles white with tension. The slavers exchanged glances, their smug expressions flickering with unease.
"What the hell are you rats doing here if you aren't paying customers?" Kiaran snarled, his words cutting like a whip. His ruby-red eyes burned as he leaned forward, slamming his fist against the table with a force that made it groan under the impact. "And if you have Mirelle, why are you bothering Estella?"
The slavers flinched at the sound, their bravado faltering. One of them opened his mouth to speak, but no words came out. Kiaran's glare pinned them like insects under glass, daring them to answer.
Kiaran's fury was an inferno, barely contained. His jaw tightened, and his hand hovered over the hilt of his blade while his ruby-red eyes burned with unspoken threats.
One of the slavers, the one slouched against the wall with a knife lazily twirling between his fingers, straightened slightly. His lips curled into a mocking sneer as he looked Kiaran over.
"I'd recognize that armor anywhere," he said, his voice dripping with disdain. "An Aranbiyan royal guard, huh? Hmph. What's a dog like you doing here?"
The slaver's gaze swept across the room with a smirk. "Odd the Madam allows monsters in her brothels. You belong on the front lines, serving your king like the monkey you are."
The air in the room shifted. Sharp. Electric. Dangerous.
Kiaran didn't flinch. He didn't speak. He moved.
"Instead of insulting me . . . Get. To. Talking . . . or else!" He snapped, slamming his hands against the table. The sound thundered through the room, cutting through the slaver's smirk like a blade.
The slaver smirked again, his confidence flickering back just enough to make me want to throttle him where he stood. "We're here for payment," he said simply. "Madam Odette owes us."
Kiaran's eyes darkened, his shoulders tensing like a coiled spring. "What payment?" he asked, his voice low and dangerous.
The slaver gestured lazily toward Estella. "We took Mirelle, like she asked us to. We're just here to collect."
I froze. The room seemed to tilt, the words echoing in my ears. Estella's breath hitched, her golden eyes wide with shock and disbelief.
"You're lying," I whispered, my voice trembling. The Madam of the Brothel was a business woman, she organized performances and oversaw the girls, but even I didn't believe she would stoop so low
The Duenios.......must have come here to collect their payment, and visited..... Estella just to taunt her.....how cruel
The slaver laughed, sharp and cruel. "Oh, sweetheart, you think we'd come all this way for fun? Your precious Madam Odette sold your sister. We're just here to make sure the deal's settled."
Kiaran moved before I could process what was happening.
He grabbed the slaver by the collar and threw him toward the door. "Get out," he snarled, his voice low and menacing. "Now."
The slaver coughed, his bravado crumbling under Kiaran's glare. "We're just doing business," he stammered. "She—she made the deal."
"Out," Kiaran said again, his voice colder than I'd ever heard it. He dropped the man to the ground, and the slavers scrambled to their feet, backing toward the door.
They didn't run until Kiaran stepped forward, his ruby-red eyes burning like embers. The door slammed shut behind them, the sound echoing in the now-silent room.
Estella collapsed into my arms, her body trembling as sobs wracked her frame. "She sold her," she choked out between gasps for air. "Madam Odette . . . she sold her."
I used to envy her strength—the way she carried herself with quiet grace while Mirelle dazzled the room. But now, she felt so fragile in my arms, like she might shatter under the weight of the world.
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Nyxara's ghost followed me everywhere—a constant reminder of my failure. I couldn't save her, but I wouldn't fail Estella............
And Mirelle? Her laughter, her songs—they were all I could hear, colliding with the cold, brutal truth of her fate. I had failed them both. But this time... this time, I would make it right.
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I clenched my teeth, my hands shaking as I held her. My mind spun, flashes of Mirelle's laugh and warm smile colliding with the cold, bitter reality of her fate. Madam Odette had betrayed us. Betrayed her.
Kiaran turned on his heel, his movements sharp and deliberate. The tension in his body was palpable, his fury barely contained.
"Stay here," he said, his voice clipped.
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