The village was dead.
The air hung heavy and thick, like smoke.
Underfoot—ash, blood, splinters.
Around her—bodies.
Ripped apart. Burned. Mostly—faceless.
Mostly—her own.
The slaver paced among the dead like an owner come to appraise his new stock.
—"Right... the earrings. Take them."
—"That's bronze, not worth it."
—"That one's sword—good, a trophy."
—"Hairpin—gold, goes in the bag."
—"Search them all. Every pocket. Every hide."
His voice was indifferent, as if he were speaking about stones.
Bodies meant nothing to him. Only the contents.
And in that moment Lianisa's gaze fell on it.
The amulet.
On the neck of the dead elder lying right at the slaver's feet.
She had seen it before. She remembered every detail.
That red-black pulse. Those living threads that held the stone like the webbing of a dream.
But now, amid the hush and the corpses, she felt more.
The artifact was ancient. Extraordinary.
It belonged to a being beyond myth.
A symbol of an entire people. Its heart. Its fury.
And she knew one thing:
It must not fall into these wretches' hands.
It must not serve them.
She would not allow it.
Everything happened in a heartbeat.
She lunged forward, dropping to her knees before the slaver.
—"Master... please... don't punish me... I can be useful... I can serve... please..."
—"Don't hand me over... I... I'm not a slave..."
The slaver snorted.
—"Aha... found your tongue.
Well then, show yourself, little doll."
He stepped forward, hand settling on his sword's scabbard.
And in that moment Lianisa bowed to his feet, carefully—as if in submission, but her fingers caught the amulet from the dead elder's neck and in a blink, almost unseen, pressed it deep into the earth.
Beneath the skin of blood and ash.
Into silence. Into oblivion.
So no one would find it. So no evil would touch it.
—"She did something!" — one of the guards shouted.
—"By the body!"
—"What were you hiding there, girl?!" — he grabbed her by the wrist.
—"Search her! She hid something!"
The slaver wasn't angry—he smiled like a cardsharp who'd just found a trump.
—"Well now... so pretty—and so sly.
Show me you 'have nothing,' princess.
Undress."
Lianisa held her breath.
Her eyes fell. Her hands trembled.
But the amulet was already hidden.
Deep. Safe.
And no one saw.
She clenched her teeth...
And began to unfasten her clothes.
Not to seduce.
But to survive.
They all turned away.
The order was clear: "No one looks. Only me."
The slaver stood like a predator who had waited
for the prey to crawl into his jaws on its own.
Lianisa lowered her gaze.
Her hands—cold, as if dead.
Her heart pounded so hard it seemed everyone could hear it.
"Hold on. Just hold on. You're already in hell—it won't get worse."
She slowly began to undo the fabric.
Her fingers slipped, shook, refused to obey.
But she had to.
First—the shoulders, pale, delicate, like silk.
Then—the breasts, as if they breathed apart from her.
Large. Perfectly rounded.
Smooth, as though carved from white stone, but warm, alive...
and now—defenseless.
The slaver froze.
His eyes widened, and his lips stretched into a mad little smile.
—"Ohhh... goddess," he whispered. —"You were made for slavery..."
He took a step.
Another.
And reached out his hand.
His coarse fingers touched her breasts.
Slowly, almost gently—but with a butcher's relish.
His fingers slid across her skin
and stopped at the nipple.
And it was... hard.
The slaver held his breath.
—"You're afraid... This isn't arousal. This is your body screaming.
But I like it."
Cold sweat ran down Lianisa's back.
Her body clenched inward.
But she stood like a statue cracking under pressure.
"Don't tremble. Don't make a sound.
This isn't me. It's just a body. He isn't touching me. This isn't me."
His hand moved lower.
The stomach.
He slid his fingers slowly, as if studying, savoring every centimeter.
And then—lower still.
His eyes met hers.
They burned. Not with desire—with obsession.
—"A little more... and I'll take you right here," he whispered.
And in that instant...
A rumble.
Dull. The ground shuddered.
—"What was that?!" the slaver roared, furious,
but he had no time for an answer.
From behind the bodies,
slowly, as if surfacing from a nightmare, a giant bear emerged.
Its muzzle was slick with blood.
It moved, tasting the air.
Claws like axes. Eyes—cold, hungry.
The slaver went rigid.
—"We're leaving! Now!"
—"He's not alone. There'll be more!" he shouted.
His body already shook with fear, though moments ago it had trembled with lust.
Lianisa snatched up her clothes, wrapped herself as best she could.
Her hands still trembled.
From fear. From filth. From shame.
But she was alive.
The amulet was hidden.
And he—was too late.
They shoved her toward the wagon.
The slaver cast one more look at her.
Not like a woman. Like an obsession he would never shake.
—"Who the hell are you..."
—"And why is my hand still shaking?.."
The wagon wheels creaked like corpses underfoot.
The road—bone, ash, and cinders.
And the cage—narrow, tight, iron bars that stank of old slavery and an evil that never ages.
Lianisa sat with her knees drawn to her chest, covered by a scrap of cloth that barely veiled her body.
She did not cry.
She did not even tremble.
She was simply a silent desert, lava still boiling somewhere under the sand.
Her hands—scraped, her skin—dust-caked, her eyes—dry.
"They didn't break me.
They only tore off the wrapping.
The real thing—lies deeper."
Across from her, on horseback, rode him.
The slaver.
His face had changed.
The swagger was gone, even the smile had left him.
He stared at her, possessed, but there was something strange in that stare.
Not just desire. Not just anger.
But... confusion.
As if he couldn't fathom why she still remained majestic,
even after he had taken everything.
—"Who the hell are you..." he whispered to himself.
—"I've seen hundreds. You're like none of them. You make me..." He left it unfinished.
She didn't even look at him.
She only sat there like a shadow that hadn't spoken its last word.
Behind— a village turned graveyard.
Ahead—some unknown place where they would sell her, or force her to her knees again.
But somewhere underground...
the hidden amulet still pulsed.
And someone... was already coming for it.