Mira fell hard onto the ground, rolling twice before coming to a stop, gasping for breath. Her lungs, which a minute ago had been filled with smoke, were now shocked by the thin, freezing air. Every breath felt like inhaling shards of glass, sharp and piercing her throat and chest.

  “Sister?” Mira croaked, her voice barely more than a breath, instantly devoured by the hungry night wind. She pushed herself up on shaking elbows, eyes darting across the endless, shadowy grasslands. No familiar faces, only emptiness. The grass was slick, blade-like, and cold enough to burn.

  There was only her, alone under a foreign sky whose stars were arranged in a pattern never taught by the royal astronomers.

  The autumn wind blew fiercely from the north, carrying the unfamiliar scent of wet earth and rotten leaves. Mira's body reacted instantly. Her skin prickled violently, and her teeth began to chatter uncontrollably.

  Mira glanced down and saw, with a sinking heart, how out of place her attire was in this new world.

  She was wearing a kemben and a long piece of the finest navy blue silk from the south. The fabric was woven very thinly to allow her skin to breathe in the humid tropical air. The gold threads embroidered with wave patterns on the edges of the fabric glimmered faintly under the pale moonlight, looking beautiful but completely useless. Her bare shoulders shivered in the merciless wind, while her sheer scarf whipped around her arms, stinging her skin as it blanched with cold.

  ?There was no warmth there. The silk, which in her home was a symbol of status and luxury, was here nothing more than a useless piece of wrapping cloth.

  Mira hugged herself tightly, rubbing her upper arms with her numb palms. Her shoulder-length brown hair, usually neatly combed with coconut oil and jasmine flowers, was now tangled, the dew-wet strands sticking to her cheeks and neck, adding to the increasingly biting cold.

  Her bare feet now stepped on the ground covered with a thin layer of ice crystals.

  Mira's dull survival instinct forced her to move. She couldn't stay in this open space. Ahead of her, a giant black shadow loomed—a forest. It wasn't the rainforest with hanging roots and wide canopies that she knew. This was a forest of tall, thin trees with sharp, needle-like leaves. A taiga forest.

  Mira stumbled forward. Her legs felt as though they were being dragged down by lead weights.

  She was getting closer, walking into the thicket of unfamiliar trees. Thirst began to choke her. Her throat was parched, a remnant of the heat of the battle earlier. Mira saw dew on the tips of tall grass leaves. Without regard for her pride as a princess, she bent down and licked the droplets with her dry tongue. It was cold, a little muddy, but enough to moisten her sticky tongue.

  Inside the forest, the wind was slightly calmer, but the darkness grew thicker. The pine trees towered like giant spears piercing the sky. The ground beneath her feet was no longer grass, but a pile of dry pine needles that pricked her soft soles.

  Mira tripped over a protruding tree root and fell to her knees. The pain from her skin being scraped by the rough road was nothing compared to the cold of the night that penetrated her bones.

  Mira leaned against a large, moss-covered tree trunk. Her breath formed thick clouds in the air, the only proof that she was still alive and had body heat.

  “What... is really happening?” Mira whispered. Her chest rose and fell at an increasingly rapid pace. She felt very tired.

  Mira tried to remember what had happened. A black portal appeared around her, taking her away from there. Did she create it? She didn't know. She was just trying to stretch out her arms to pull Muro away from Sirra. Then suddenly the portal appeared.

  She hugged her sister's body, then was sucked in. She ended up here, separated from Sirra. Was her sister okay? Did she get transported, too? Just thinking about it made Mira's head hurt even more.

  Please, let my sister be safe, Mira pleaded silently. Weariness dragged at her, heavier than any chain. Her strength was gone. She surrendered to the pull of sleep, letting exhaustion claim her.

  ?

  ***

  ?

  It felt like swallowing hot glass shards, not in her throat, but in her blood vessels. Her bones felt like they were being forged by an iron smith using a giant hammer. Her nerves felt like they were being pulled apart, like a tailor cutting loose stitches. As the pain faded, Mira realized that she was moving.

  Mira's head was pounding when she opened her eyes. The sight that met her was a giant gate, a figure resembling a guard closing it again. Torches greeted her on either side, and dark wooden houses appeared one by one as she moved further away from the gate.

  Someone carried Mira, and she was now on a cart. She could even confirm that this was true because she could hear the sound of horse hooves after all her senses returned to normal.

  Mira felt the cold piercing her even more than before. She realized that she was no longer wearing her kemben, only her silk cloth covering her body, and even her scarf was gone without a trace. Mira panicked, trying to move, jump, run, or do anything she could. But her body refused, the pain returning; the more she moved, the more pain she felt.

  Mira heard voices, but she didn't recognize the language they were speaking.

  Soon, she heard a loud thud from the right side. Then the horse-drawn carriage came to an abrupt stop. The back door opened, and someone pulled on a chain around Mira's neck.

  You might be reading a pirated copy. Look for the official release to support the author.

  Mira struggled, but resistance was useless. Powerless, she obeyed, climbing down from the cart as commanded.?

  It turned out that the figure pulling her was a Sisilkka. A race that inhabits caves and other damp, enclosed places.?

  How could she not know immediately? The creature had scaly skin covering its entire body, like a snake. Perhaps when seen at night, like now, it was black, but its true color was dark blue. Their eyes were also shaped like a ‘plus’ sign, golden yellow, some even as yellow as the rising sun. The rest of them still looked like humans.

  He pulled Mira very hard, forcing her to follow him from behind. Mira, unable to resist, was forced to follow in the Sisilkka's footsteps.

  “28 Kruppe.” Mira didn’t understand their language, but she realized that Sisilkka had said the word Kruppe. It was the currency used by the inhabitants of the northern continent. “3 Kruppe for taxes, 25 for my payment,” continued Sisilkka.

  The people around them were chattering. Mira immediately realized that she was going to be sold as a slave.

  She could piece together everything that had happened to her from the moment she fell asleep until she arrived here. Surely, this scaly creature had found her, taken her away, and claimed her as a slave.

  Mira's mind raced as she looked at her current condition, her clothes in disarray. She grimaced, she shook her head, she didn't want to think about the unthinkable. That couldn't be possible. That person was Sisilkka; they should have different reproductive systems, so that couldn't be possible.

  Another figure spoke the loudest. Judging by their appearance, they belonged to the Glaray race, a race almost as unique. Their skin was shiny silver, capable of reflecting the surrounding light. Others might think it was clothing, but it was actually part of their body.

  A blue line traced each side of their body, unbroken from head to toe. They seemed eyeless, yet Mira sensed they saw through those glowing lines. No nose, ears, or mouth—perhaps hidden, perhaps simply absent. She could not tell.

  They didn’t even wear clothes.

  "50 Kruppe." The voice sounded masculine, vibrating across the entire area. As he spoke, the lines on his body flickered, following the rhythm of his words.

  "Any more?" Sisilkka spoke again, her right hand open and sweeping over the people in front of her, waiting for them to raise their bids.

  "I'll take 60 Kruppe now." A pot-bellied man appeared out of nowhere, joining the impromptu auction. His brown mustache was so thick it almost covered his entire mouth, and his beard grew down to his chest. He was completely bald, and the wrinkles on his face were still visible in the dim light.

  Judging from his pale white skin, he was from the Norr people.

  No one spoke, no one replied. Sisilkka suddenly clapped her hands; she shook the distended man's hand. After that, the transaction is complete. Now, Mira has changed hands, but she still can't understand what they are saying. But the smile of the distended man already made Mira shudder with horror.

  "Her skin is good," said the distended man while sweeping the skin of Mira's left arm. He tried to dodge, but immediately the distended man gripped his arm very strongly.

  "Still fresh." Sisilkka nodded in agreement as she counted every grain of Kruppe coins given to the disfigured man.

  The man jerked the chain, rough and unyielding. If she resisted, her neck might snap. Mira could do nothing but follow, biding her time, waiting for a chance to escape.

  The streets in this city were so muddy and cold. Walking barefoot, it felt like a stabbing sensation from below. Mira's body had not yet adapted to this new world, with a different time as well.

  Every building was adorned with dim lanterns, and the walls looked dirty and muddy. Brownish leaves decorated the courtyards, piled up in every corner of the streets.

  Before long, they arrived at a building that looked old, shabby, and decayed. At the top front of the building, there was some kind of deer head with one antler broken off. As soon as the wooden door was pushed open, the cold night wind was immediately overpowered, driven back by a blast of hot air that smelled of yeast, roasted meat, and human sweat.

  The sounds inside were a chaotic mix, very loud, as if ready to smash through any barrier like a breached dam. Laughter echoed from various corners, overlapping order shouts, and the clinking of wooden cups colliding endlessly.

  A thick haze of tobacco smoke hung from the ceiling, swirling slowly like artificial storm clouds, trapping the yellow light of dozens of hanging oil lamps. Beneath that smoky canopy, a sea of people jostled shoulder to shoulder. Not a single chair was empty.

  At a table near the fireplace, a group of mercenaries still in their armor was banging on the wood. Brown liquid splashed from their glasses every time a fist hit the table. One of them, a man with a scar across his forehead, stood on a bench and downed the contents of his glass in one gulp, greeted by the wild cheers of his companions who tossed silver coins into the air.

  In another corner, the atmosphere was tenser. The round table was packed with spectators holding their breath. In the center of the table, two pairs of sleep-deprived red eyes stared sharply at each other. Dice rattled inside a leather cup before being slammed into the middle of the table.

  A plump waitress pushed her way through the crowd with a gigantic tray balanced on her head. She didn’t walk, but danced skillfully, avoiding errant feet and hands that tried to poke her waist.

  On a small stage at the end of the room, an old poet with his guitar played fast-paced tunes, his feet stomping on the wooden floor to match the tempo of the vulgar local song. No one really paid attention to the lyrics, yet everyone hummed along to the off-key melody.

  Mira's head spun even more from taking it all in; this was a scene she had never encountered. Maybe the bar in the south wasn’t much different from this, but how would she know if she had never been there?

  ?The chubby man led Mira to the long table that connected directly to the bartender. The bartender, an adult woman who looked to be in her forties, approached them.

  “A customer?” said the chubby man.

  ?“A landlord, from Andlesser.” The bartender placed a large wooden cup in front of the chubby man, then poured a thick red liquid from a freshly shaken glass.

  “What does he want?” The chubby man took the cup, drinking it in one gulp. He glanced at Mira, snorting as the girl met his gaze.

  "A woman." The bartender looked at Mira and handed her a small glass of water. Mira, without hesitation, took it and drank it until it was gone. "He needs a servant who can give him many children."

  "His wife can't have children?" The man said, wiping the remaining liquid from his thick mustache.?

  The bartender nodded. "He offered 120 Kruppe."?

  The chubby man grinned widely. "I profit more than twice that."

  Mira couldn't understand their conversation; the only familiar word was Kruppe. That meant they were still discussing some kind of transaction. She glanced to the left, then to the right, looking for any way to escape. She was not a piece of property to be traded; she was a living being, a princess.?

  Mira remembered the portal. If she had summoned it once, perhaps she could do it again. She closed her eyes, reached out, and wished for a miracle.