Darla stood motionless, ignoring the dirt crusted on her skin and the chill of the rain seeping through her tattered rags. The tall man called out bids, his voice grating and sharp as he appraised the girls beside her, shouting out numbers that felt almost laughable. Years ago, before the cancer, she'd known numbers larger than these would ever be. She'd sat in sleek boardrooms, traded with the powerful and the cunning, sealing deals that ranged from legitimate to shady, wielding wealth and influence like a weapon. Standing on this crude auction block, the place reeking of sweat and fear, she realized that this was just another deal—another transaction of flesh, not ideas. The cold brutality was nothing new to her, and so she forced herself to feel nothing, keeping her gaze downcast and her expression as blank as the other girls around her.
She kept her back hunched, feigning weakness, letting herself be jostled by the other bodies with an air of meekness she'd never before allowed herself to portray. After all, if she were to survive this ordeal, she would need to keep her true nature hidden—no one would expect strength from a dirty, frail slave. She could feel her sharp mind reawakening, gears turning as she sized up the crowd, observing the cloaked figures with a practiced eye.
She watched silently as girls were sold off one by one. They were taken by different men, cloaked figures with dark intentions hidden beneath calm faces. Some of these men bore crests—symbols of houses she did not recognize—while others dressed in simple, nondescript robes that suggested hidden purpose. Darla gritted her teeth as she watched their hands linger over wrists and waists, men appraising the girls as property. She wanted to turn away, disgust rising like bile, but she forced herself to stay still. The girls who were claimed were ushered off quickly, glancing back with expressions of resignation or terror as they disappeared into the arms of nobles or officials.
She heard whispers among the bidders as they discussed the girls like livestock. "Good for housework," one man muttered, leering as he made his choice. "I'll make her my servant… or something more," another murmured, chuckling darkly. Darla bristled inwardly, but outwardly kept her expression docile, learning what she could from every voice and movement.
When the bidding turned to her, she sensed eyes sweeping over her, assessing the muddy mess of her hair, the grime obscuring her face and hiding her features. The rain had not spared her from looking any less pitiful, and the men's glances barely lingered before shifting to the next girl.
"Frail one. Won't last," a voice muttered in disappointment, dismissing her with a click of his tongue. A relieved shiver slipped through her. She allowed herself a slight sag of her shoulders, casting her gaze downward, ensuring she blended in with the unchosen girls as much as possible. When the final bids had been placed, fourteen of them were left—those deemed unfit or unsuitable for the tasks that others had in mind.
After the auction concluded, the man who'd been barking out bids strode up to them, his eyes narrowed with an assessing look. He muttered something to the other guard, his voice low but not low enough to escape Darla's sharp ears.
"The rest… they're all headed to *Elige Desiderium.* Have them ready for transport by dawn."
A chill ran through her spine, but she forced herself to remain outwardly composed. *Elige Desiderium.* The words sounded foreign, menacing. From his tone and the way he sneered, she could guess it was far from a place of refuge. *Chosen Desire.* The words replayed in her mind, raising questions she had no answers to. There was no context, no frame of reference, and her thoughts raced. Whatever fate waited there, she knew it wouldn't be gentle.
They were herded away from the square, the iron collars digging into their necks as they were led to a smaller, cramped building off to the side. Once inside, they were met by the harsh, musty smell of mold and decay. The fourteen girls huddled close together, each one clinging to whatever remnants of strength they had left.
Night fell quickly, and Darla strained to overhear any conversations between the guards. She picked up fragments here and there, but nothing substantial. The name *Elige Desiderium* hung in the air like a dark omen, and though none of the girls spoke openly, their fearful glances told her that they, too, had some inkling of what was to come.
Hours passed in silence. The guards threw them some scraps of bread and a tin of water, enough to keep them alive but far from enough to satisfy their gnawing hunger. Darla sat cross-legged on the hard floor, nibbling slowly at her piece of bread, her mind working on how best to proceed. She knew the importance of patience, of waiting for the right moment.
She was still wrestling with her own mind when she noticed a faint whisper behind her. She turned, locking eyes with a girl around her own age. Her name was Mara, Darla recalled, her eyes wide with terror but full of a raw, desperate hope.
"Do you… do you know what they'll do to us?" Mara asked, her voice trembling as she spoke.
Darla hesitated. Part of her wanted to reassure Mara, to tell her that things would be fine, but a different part of her knew better. "I don't know," she answered quietly, but there was a steely edge to her voice that caught the attention of several other girls.
Another girl, younger and with a face streaked in grime, spoke up. "I heard them say *Elige Desiderium.* I think… I think it's a place where they sell us to the highest bidder… for entertainment."
"Entertainment?" Mara's voice quivered, and Darla could sense the panic spreading.
Darla wanted to reach out, to comfort them, but knew that anything she said would be hollow. She remembered how she had once clawed her way up from nothing in her old life, the orphan child who had fought her way to a seat of power. And though this place was worlds away from where she'd come from, the skills of survival were ones she knew well. She had faced odds that had nearly broken her, and now, she felt that same determination welling up within her.
Before dawn, the guards returned, kicking the door open with a rough clang that echoed through the room. They moved with practiced efficiency, grabbing each girl by the arm and dragging them outside into the cool, gray light of early morning. Darla clenched her jaw, forcing her face to stay blank and calm even as her mind raced.
They were led to a wagon, covered with heavy curtains, as if to shield them from prying eyes—or, perhaps, to shield the world from seeing them. Darla climbed in with the others, her body aching from the chill and hunger, but her mind sharper than ever.
As they settled onto the rough wooden benches, a strange feeling pulsed in the air, something unsettling and almost… electric. She couldn't place it, but something felt off, a presence she couldn't identify. She could have sworn she saw shadows flitting past them in the early morning mist, strange movements just beyond the reach of her vision. But she had no time to question it. The wagon lurched forward, heading toward the unknown.
Darla swallowed, steadying herself. She might not know what waited for them at *Elige Desiderium*, nor did she fully understand the strange undercurrents of this world, but she was certain of one thing: whatever fate awaited her, she would not go quietly.