Sylus lounged on his grand obsidian throne, draped in an air of casual dominance. His crown, a heavy and ornate symbol of authority, lay discarded beside him—an unnecessary burden for the moment. A goblet of wine dangled loosely from his fingers, the dark red liquid swirling idly with each lazy tilt of his hand. His crimson eyes, sharp and unyielding as a predator's, swept over the merchant and his wares with an expression of detached boredom.

Before him, the famed collector of rarities shifted uncomfortably, his composure unraveling under the weight of the king's indifference. He had arrived with grand ambitions, bearing treasures from distant lands, hoping to win favor with the Tyrant King. Yet jewel-encrusted artifacts, shimmering relics, and priceless curiosities spilled across the polished marble floor without eliciting so much as a flicker of interest from Sylus.

The merchant's desperation grew palpable as he gestured for his attendants to unveil yet another cache of riches. Crates were opened, their dazzling contents displayed with painstaking care. Still, Sylus's gaze remained cool and disinterested, his lips curving faintly in what could only be described as disdain.

In the far corner of the caravan, nearly hidden behind the splendor of the other offerings, sat a small, unassuming cage. Unlike the opulent displays, this object was plain and unadorned, an afterthought in the merchant's presentation. Yet Sylus's sharp eyes caught the subtle movement within, the faintest shadow shifting behind its iron bars.

"What's in that cage?" His voice cut through the air with razor precision, silencing the merchant mid-sentence. The idle swirl of wine in his goblet ceased as his attention locked onto the corner.

The merchant froze, his face paling. "Ah! That, Your Majesty? It's… nothing of value. A mistake to have brought it here." He offered a nervous chuckle, his hands waving dismissively. "She's useless."

Sylus tilted his head slightly, his expression unchanging but his gaze narrowing. "Useless?" His tone dropped, a quiet menace threading through his words. "Bring it out."

The merchant's laugh faltered. "Your Majesty, truly, it's not worth—"

"Bring it out," Sylus interrupted, his voice an icy command. The temperature in the room seemed to plummet, and an oppressive silence followed, heavy with unspoken threat.

Two attendants scrambled to obey, their movements hurried and clumsy as they dragged the cage forward. It scraped against the marble, the harsh sound grating against the stillness. Inside the cage was a girl, her frail body curled into itself like a wounded animal. She looked barely out of her teens, her frame hunched awkwardly within the cramped space. A tattered rag hung limply from her shoulders, doing little to conceal her emaciated figure. Her long, unkempt black hair fell like a curtain over her face, and her entire body trembled with fear.

Sylus's eyes sharpened, his attention honing in on the pitiful figure. "What is this?" he demanded, his tone low but cutting.

The merchant's words tumbled over themselves in his haste to explain. "She's… the last of her kind, Your Majesty. A relic, if you will. Her clan perished in a volcanic eruption. I thought she might fetch a price in the southern markets, but no buyer would take her. They called her cursed."

He hesitated, glancing at Sylus for a reaction before continuing. "No man can touch her. Anyone who tries is repelled as though struck by an invisible force. Some even suffered burns. I planned to… dispose of her."

The merchant's voice faltered as Sylus rose from his throne with sudden, fluid grace. The goblet slipped from his fingers, clattering to the floor and spilling its dark contents like blood across the marble. The sound echoed ominously in the vast chamber, and the merchant flinched, his words dying on his lips.

Sylus descended the steps of his throne with measured precision, the hem of his black coat sweeping behind him. His presence filled the room, every step amplifying the tension. Reaching a nearby table, he seized a velvet pouch resting atop it. The weight of the bag was unmistakable, bulging with enough gold to purchase an entire estate. Without hesitation, Sylus hurled it at the merchant's feet. The silk cord unraveled, scattering coins in a gleaming cascade that chimed against the marble floor.

"Take this," Sylus said coldly. "And leave."

The merchant's mouth opened and closed soundlessly before he stammered, "Y-Your Majesty, I—"

"Shut up and leave," Sylus snapped, his voice a whip crack of finality. The merchant's protests died instantly, and he scrambled to gather the bag, his attendants hastening to follow suit. With hurried bows and mumbled apologies, they retreated from the chamber, leaving the cage—and its occupant—behind.

Sylus's gaze returned to the girl. She had not moved, her small frame pressed tightly into the corner of the cage. Her trembling was faint but constant, her fear so palpable it seemed to thicken the air around her.

"Get her out," Sylus commanded, his voice quieter now but no less absolute.

One of his maids stepped forward hesitantly, her hands shaking as she unlocked the cage. She knelt to coax the girl out, her movements gentle but unsure. Slowly, the girl unfolded herself, her stiff limbs moving awkwardly as she emerged. When her face was revealed from behind the veil of tangled hair, Sylus studied her closely. Her features were plain, her pallid complexion marred by grime. She radiated fear, her wide eyes darting around the room like a trapped animal.

"Clean her up," Sylus ordered, his voice cutting through the silence. "And bring her to my chamber."

The maid nodded quickly, guiding the girl away with a steadying hand. The girl's steps were slow, hesitant, as though each one might lead her to further torment. Sylus watched them leave, his expression unreadable.

He stood there in front of his throne, his mind turning over the peculiar situation. The merchant's words echoed in his thoughts. A force that repelled all who dared to touch her? If true, it was a power unlike any he had encountered. And Sylus, a king who bent the world to his will, was not one to ignore such intrigue.

For the first time in years, a flicker of curiosity stirred within him—a curiosity that burned faintly but insistently, demanding to be satisfied.