Rain hammered down like a drumroll from the heavens, each drop biting cold as it smashed against jagged rocks. Zera's breath came fast, shallow—her soaked white hair clinging to her skin like wet silk. The mountain around her was harsh and unforgiving, a storm's fury unleashed in full force.
This isn't my world. The thought hit her like a punch to the gut. But where else could she be?
Her feet slipped against slick stone, heart pounding louder than the thunder overhead. The sky cracked open, a lightning bolt splitting the darkness, illuminating a vision burned deep inside her mind.
A peaceful valley. Bluebells stretching like an ocean of violet beneath towering ancient trees. Sunlight filtered gently through leaves, painting dappled gold on soft moss and fresh earth.
That was home.
No war cries, no bloodshed. Just quiet magic humming in the breeze.
She closed her eyes, trying to hold onto that moment—desperate to remember everything.
The sharp scent of wet earth and blooming flowers flooded her senses, as if she could reach out and touch that long-lost place again.
A soft wind stirred, carrying the faint sound of laughter—children chasing each other through wildflowers, their voices like music.
Zera's lips twitched in a bittersweet smile.
I wasn't a warrior then. Just a girl living in a hidden world of peace and light.
But peace was a fragile thing, easy to shatter.
A sudden crack of thunder yanked her back to reality. The boundary between her world and this one was tearing, flickering like a dying flame.
Her violet eyes snapped open, sharp and fierce.
Why was I ripped from that valley?
Why here, in this storm?
She didn't have answers. Only questions.
Lightning forked again, tracing jagged scars across the sky. The storm wasn't natural—it was a sign, a summons.
Zera inhaled, the cold air filling her lungs. Her fists clenched, nails digging into damp palms.
I'll survive this.
I have to.
The night swallowed her silhouette as she vanished into the darkness, a lone fox spirit lost between worlds.
The rain had slowed to a steady drizzle, turning the jagged mountain rocks into slippery traps. Zera moved cautiously, each step measured, her bare feet searching for solid ground. The storm still grumbled overhead, clouds churning in angry swirls as if the sky itself resented her presence.
Around her, the world felt different—colder, harsher. The soft moss and warm earth of her valley had been replaced by rough stones and brittle pines. The air smelled of wet stone and distant smoke, a scent foreign and unsettling.
Her heterochromatic eyes—one icy blue, one burning red—scanned the shadows. Something was watching. Always watching.
A sudden rustle in the bushes made her freeze. A pair of glowing eyes blinked at her from the darkness. Not a human, but not quite animal either. A creature with fur like midnight and eyes that shimmered like stars.
Zera's heart fluttered—a mixture of caution and curiosity.
Wildlife? Or something else? She wondered.
The creature let out a low, melodic howl that resonated deep in her chest. Without thinking, Zera answered with a breathy, almost musical sound, a language older than words.
The creature stepped forward, its form becoming clearer—a sleek wolf-like being with subtle, ethereal markings glowing faintly along its fur.
Zera reached out, her hand trembling, and the creature nuzzled her palm. A warmth spread from the touch, filling the cold emptiness around her.
Maybe this world isn't as empty as I thought.
But the feeling was fleeting.
The ground beneath her trembled suddenly—a warning. The storm's energy wasn't done yet.
Lightning cracked again, and for a split second, Zera saw flashes of the auction house nestled in the valley below—a towering structure of glass and steel, crowded with people whose faces were full of greed and fear.
That's where I have to go.
Her voice was a whisper in the wind.
She bent low, picking up a smooth stone, feeling its cool weight in her hand. The world around her was dangerous, strange, and unforgiving—but she was alive.
And she was coming for answers.
The auction hall buzzed with the kind of tension only money and power could brew. Crystal chandeliers dripped light onto rows of black chairs, each adorned with pristine white bows, and every seat was filled with elites dressed sharper than blades.
Kael Ardent lounged near the back, a smirk tugging at his lips as he watched the pomp and circumstance unfold. To him, it was all just a game of shadows and whispers—power plays disguised as polite conversation.
"Lot 37, the silver fox relic," the auctioneer announced, voice smooth like silk but sharp as a knife. "Expected to fetch millions."
Kael's amber eyes flicked over the crowd—greedy eyes, nervous eyes, desperate eyes.
Then, a sudden tremor shook the hall, subtle at first but growing into a pulse felt deep in the bones.
Whispers turned to murmurs.
Suddenly, the massive glass panels behind the stage shattered inward, sending shards flying like deadly rain.
The crowd screamed.
And through the chaos, drenched and wild-eyed, a figure stumbled in.
Her hair was a flowing storm of silk-white strands, wild and tangled, drenched by the storm but somehow still luminous under the chandeliers' glow. Large, pointed white fox ears poked through her hair, twitching with alertness.
Her eyes—striking and terrifying—were mismatched: one an icy sapphire blue, the other a blazing ember red. The fierce heterochromatic gaze burned with raw, untamed power and defiance.
Her attire was a striking mix of elegance and battle-ready style. A revealing black-and-white corset-like bustier clung to her form, decorated with delicate teal knots and swirling cloud motifs. Her shoulders were bare, framed by a white, short-sleeved robe trimmed with turquoise Chinese knots that fluttered softly as she moved. Below, a high-cut white skirt with teal accents allowed freedom of motion, held in place by an ornate black belt with turquoise jewels. Teal ribbons trailed from her sleeves, lending an ethereal grace to her movements.
Despite her beauty and grace, there was a wild ferocity in her stance—a warrior's aura, even without a weapon in hand.
Kael's smirk vanished.
"Who the hell is that?" a nearby noble hissed.
Security surged forward, but Zera was faster—too fast.
She darted between stunned bodies, her movements fluid, almost otherworldly. The room's air seemed to bend around her, shadows stretching and twisting like living things.
One of the guards lunged, aiming to grab her arm, but she slipped free with a mocking laugh, eyes flashing dangerously.
Then, the inevitable happened.
A shimmering band of dark magic erupted from the hands of the head mage among the guards—a tightly woven seal of glowing runes and chains of light. It wrapped around her wrists and shot upward in a blinding arc, binding her eyes.
The magical band settled over her heterochromatic gaze like a cage of radiant threads, dulling their blazing intensity. The sapphire and ember flames dimmed beneath the spell's weight, shrouding her sight in a veil of enforced blindness.
Zera's lips parted in a silent growl of frustration and rage. Even trapped, the raw energy in her posture throbbed with restrained fury.
Kael watched, fascinated.
"Not just some runaway," he murmured, standing as the guards hauled her to the center stage.
Zera's breath came hard, but her gaze, though obscured, still seemed to pierce with unyielding will.
"You don't belong here," she spat, voice low and fierce. "I'm not your prize."
The auctioneer's grin was thin and cold. "Oh, but everyone here has their price."
Kael's eyes locked onto hers—an unspoken challenge, a spark of something dangerous and irresistible.
This was no ordinary auction.
And Zera? She was about to turn their world upside down.The grand hall was a cathedral of opulence — towering pillars wrapped in gold leaf, chandeliers casting fractured light like liquid stars, and rows upon rows of black chairs decked in white bows. The air hummed with a restless energy as the city's elite gathered for the event of the century.
The auctioneer's voice cut through the murmurs, sharp and commanding.
"Lot number thirty-seven: A rare specimen from the Eastern Convergence—a fox spirit of unparalleled power. Bound and restrained, but rumored to possess abilities lost to legend."
The heavy velvet curtains parted, revealing the stage. There, illuminated by a cold spotlight, stood Zera. Her long, wild white hair seemed to float despite the still air, and her large, fox-like ears twitched beneath the ornate headpiece. But it was her eyes that drew every gaze—a mesmerizing clash of blue and red, veiled behind a magical binding band that pulsed with an eerie glow.
Chains of enchanted silver wrapped around her limbs, shimmering faintly with runes. The crowd's excitement rippled like electricity.
A noble with jade rings raised his paddle. "One million!"
The bidding erupted into a frenzy. The numbers climbed, tens of millions tossed like coins.
Kael stood in the back, calm and unmoved—until the price reached a staggering nine million. Then, as if drawn by fate itself, he stepped forward.
"Ten million," he declared, voice steady and clear.
The room stilled. All eyes turned to him—the dark figure who dared interrupt the dance of wealth and power.
The auctioneer's gaze flickered, then a slow smile crept across his lips. "Sold. To the gentleman in black."
Whispers erupted like wildfire. Some admired Kael's audacity; others cursed his recklessness.
Zera's head snapped toward him, her eyes burning behind the magical band. The bindings rattled softly as attendants moved to free her from the heavier shackles, but the eye-band remained—a silent sentinel.
Kael's pulse quickened, not from greed or pride, but from awe. This was no mere prize. This was a living legend, a force that could shift the balance of their world.
The crowd's chatter faded into the background as Kael met her gaze, behind the veil of magic.
"Curious," he whispered. "Very curious indeed."
The crowd's whispers and murmurs swirled like a storm as Zera was carefully escorted off the stage. Her long white hair whipped gently as she moved, eyes hidden behind the shimmering magical band — the eerie blue membrane overlaying her glowing red pupils pulsing softly with restrained power.
Kael's breath caught. He wasn't used to feeling awe — but this was different. She wasn't just a rare prize or a trophy. She was something ancient, something alive with mystery and raw force.
This fox spirit… he thought, she's a legend, chained and caged, and now she's mine.
The attendants brought her closer, but Kael held up a hand. "Wait." His voice was calm but carried weight.
Zera's gaze flicked in his direction. The magical binding didn't conceal the fire in her eyes. She growled low, a warning.
Kael took a step forward, meeting her gaze without fear. "I'm not here to break you. I want to understand."
A flicker of something like respect — or maybe surprise — passed through her eyes behind the band.
Around them, nobles watched, some amused, some wary. But Kael tuned out the crowd. This moment was between him and Zera.
The auction was over. The real story was just beginning.