The wagon rattled and groaned beneath them, pulled steadily along a narrow dirt road that wound through fields and forests. Inside, the wooden slats let in only thin blades of evening light, just enough to illuminate the quiet passengers.

  It had already been a long ride. Embarking right after Katharina had been sold. They had stuffed her in a scratchy linen shirt and stowed her into a closed wagon where six other slaves were already waiting. Now, seven people sat shoulder-to-shoulder on the bench-lined walls of the wagon.

  Katharina had been quietly digesting everything that had happened to her over the last two days, and now her mind had finally caught up with what seemed to be her reality.

  Katharina observed the people around her. Most sat in silence, faces downturned, postures slumped. Their clothes were plain, similar to the shirt she was wearing now, their skin smudged with dust and grime, and all of them had similar dull shades of brown hair. There were both boys and girls, a few looking barely older than children, and one man, broad-shouldered, brooding, and somewhere in his forties, sat in the opposite corner furthest from Katharina, staring blankly ahead.

  As Katharina had been the last to board, she sat nearest the back of the wagon and the shut and shackled door. None of the slaves were chained, yet none, Katharina included, seemed to want or be able to rise from their seats, so why did the door need to be shackled, to keep them in or to keep others out?

  Her legs twitched with the urge to try something, anything, even if it meant throwing herself into the forest beyond. Just to see if she could.

  But as the thought flickered, a heat pulsed under her brand. A warning, silent and absolute, that snuffed out the spark of rebellion before it could catch. Her jaw clenched, eyes burning with tears she refused to let fall. She hated how easily this force could silence her.

  A number of things were puzzling her. Here sat seven slaves, all seemingly headed for the same destination, so either slaves were a dime a dozen, or whoever had the means to own this many people had to be very wealthy.

  Then there was this unknown destination they were going to, where some unknown master was undoubtedly waiting for them, the only ones who had gotten a look at Katharina was the two men who were in the courtyard when Katharina had recived this bizarre brand -- then the woman who bought her later, but she had seemed like someone with a master of her own.

  But whatever destination and master was waiting for them, it didn't seem to worry the girl who sat across from Kathatina. She was younger than Katharina by the looks of it, and sat humming a light, chipper melody under her breath. Her fingers tapped the rhythm against her knee like she was on her way to a summer camp. Katharina watched her with a mixture of disbelief and quiet sympathy. Maybe the girl didn’t understand what was happening. Maybe she did and had simply decided to dissociate. And as Katharina's thoughts drifted toward anger and resentment of whoever was doing this to them, she felt the pain in her shoulder as it flared up with her growing wrath.

  There was no way this world did not have some sort of technology, magic even, that weren't a thing back on Earth, how else could you explain these seething impulses that emanated from Katharina's shoulder, seemingly controlling her down to even the thoughts she was allowed to think.

  Everything is so freaking strange. I'm probably not even on Earth anymore.

  They had been riding for hours now, and the day was nearing its end. The city had long disappeared behind them, swallowed by the trees and rolling hills. Katharina had taken to watching the sunlight dim through the cracks, trying to determine the time. Judging by the sky and the length of the shadows, it was summer. The days were long here, or at least they seemed to be. If this world had an axial tilt like Earth, they had to be riding deep down or up one of the hemispheres, depending on how they turn their maps, though the thought was absurd. She didn’t even know if this world was a planet, or if the sun she saw was anything more than a feverish fantasy.

  Maybe I hit my head, she thought. Maybe I’m lying in a hospital somewhere. Maybe this is the fever dream of a dying brain, flailing against the end. She didn’t feel dead, but she didn’t feel alive either. The way her body obeyed without input… it made her question everything.

  Katharina realized that she must have dozed off in the wagon as the sky had gone dark, when she awoke abruptly as the wagon finally came to a halt. Unsure of how long she had been out for, her grogginess told her that it was at least another hour, if not more.

  After holding for a minute, Katharina finally heard the shackles on the door being removed, and she decided to fight the incessant urge to stay seated and got to her feet. Realizing she was the only one in the wagon who had stood up, she immediately regretted it, but it was already too late; the door swung open, and a surprised young man looked up at her and said something in an equally surprised voice.

  "??Ω?? ?? Ω?? ?木, ??? ???"

  A chuckle came from behind Katharina; it was the man at the other end of the wagon.

  "ナ???木?χ ???? ???? ?∞?, ??? ?? ∞?? χ?Φ? ??? ???? ?木 ??."

  He said something that made the young man furrow his brows, but nevertheless, he stepped aside, and the other slaves started to rise as well. They filed out of the wagon in a line, with Kathrina at the front.

  She didn’t like it. She didn’t know what was expected, and there was no one to ask. And even if there were, there would be no way for her to understand their answer.

  But she didn’t need to.

  The moment her feet touched the gravel, a quiet pull guided her forward. She didn’t hear a voice, but the command was unmistakable, planted deep in her body like a thought she hadn’t chosen. It settled in her shoulder, just below the skin where the brand still tingled, and told her where to go, when to stop, how fast to walk. The others followed behind her in silence, their footsteps crunching in unison.

  They approached a set of wide stone steps leading up to an enormous front door. But it wasn’t the building that held Katharina’s attention; it was the sky.

  She tilted her head back and gazed up at the most magnificent night sky she had ever witnessed. The stars above them blazed in quiet brilliance, more vivid than she had ever seen. Out here, there was no smog. No flicker of artificial light. No light pollution. Just the clean, sharp canvas of the endless skies above.

  She spotted the Milky Way, or whatever galaxy this was, cutting distinctly across the heavens in a luminous stripe, and a thousand pinpricks of light shimmered in every direction. Is this still the sky of Earth? she wondered. Or is it different? She didn’t know enough about astronomy to tell. A part of her wished she had paid more attention to that kind of thing, listened more when her girl friends talked of zodiac signs and lucky stars. A part of her wished, more than anything, that she was still with them and could ask now.

  And then, without warning, a sharp sting bloomed low in her gut.

  I miss home...

  The words flared inside her chest like a wound reopening. She swallowed hard, forcing the ache down before it could rise too far. But it was already too late to dwell on the beautiful sky; the massive doors were in front of her, and they creaked open.

  This book was originally published on Royal Road. Check it out there for the real experience.

  Warm light spilled out over the stone steps, golden and inviting. Behind these massive doors, a grand foyer revealed itself, so tall it made Katharina's neck ache to look up. Katharina's feet led the line inside, and as she stepped over the threshold of the enormous door, she felt the air change, no longer crisp and damp like the night, but dry and faintly perfumed. The floor beneath her feet shifted from gravel to marble, cold and smooth beneath her unsteady steps. The interior was glamorous, the kind of luxury she had only seen in movies: high ceilings with carved beams, chandeliers flickering with what looked like candlelight. On either side stood tall French doors, with frosted panes reflecting back a blurred version of all the glamour, unfolding before Katharina's eyes.

  A large staircase dominated the opposite side of the room, splitting into two curling wings that led up to a second-floor balcony, where another set of French doors on each side led deeper into this extravagant manor. Framed by the plateau of the splitting stairs hung a massive portrait, at least two meters tall, depicting a noble family in elaborate formalwear. Their poses were stiff, their gazes prideful. What struck Katharina most was the hair; they all had fiery red locks in varying shades, from deep auburn to a copper so bright it almost glowed. Red, just like one of the men in the courtyard...

  I guess he must be the guy who ultimately purchased me. Her thoughts were bitter, Despicable.

  Distracted by the sight of the almost absurdly large painting of her new masters, Katharina hadn't noticed that her feet had carried her to the right side of the room, and the line had stopped moving. The seven of them stood spaced evenly apart, and all turned to face the other side of the room as if expecting someone important to step through those French doors any minute now.

  And it didn't even take a minute before a toweringly tall woman gracefully emerged, walking toward them with long, precise strides.

  Every feature about her seemed elongated and sharp, and she was wearing a long black evening gown that fell slenderly down her long limbs. As she came closer, Katharina noticed that the style of the gown was more that of a medieval houppelande crossed with a sari, with sleeves that widened to a large opening at the end, but also a beautifully embroidered piece wrapped around her waist, resting over one shoulder draping all the way down the arm, held steadily in front of her, so as not to disturb the pattern.

  But to Katharina's surprise, the color of this statuesque woman's hair was yet another shade of brown, and not any of the crimson depicted in the painting.

  She must be staff, Katharina reasoned. A head of house, maybe. Someone important. But I can't be sure… It's not like I know what hierarchy is at work here.

  The woman stopped before the broad-shouldered man who stood at the opposite end of the seven. She took him in, head to toe, staring him down as she towered over this large man.

  "????? °??? ∞???."

  The woman's voice was full and deep, contralto even, with a commanding quality that made it sound less like a question and more like an inevitability. The man answered in a warm tone.

  "????Φ, ?????."

  The woman gave a satisfied nod and moved to the next in line, her surveying eyes leaving no inch unconsidered. Then the same question, or was it a command, made the girl answer in a similar manner to the man.

  "?χ???, ?????."

  Then, the next, a scrawny boy with a shaking voice.

  "???, ?????."

  They all answer '-something, something- ?????' Katharina's mind was struggling to pick apart the situation as she felt the woman's steps bringing her closer and closer, and the imminent judgement of whatever it was she was supposed to answer, approached in the same long strides. I just have to guess what the -something, something- is.

  Her presence arrived before her voice. The woman had assessed everyone else in the line and now stopped in front of her, gaze sweeping over Katharina like she was a painting with smudged edges.

  "??∞'? ?? ?木????? Ω??χ, ???? ?? ???° ナ?χχ °???"

  That was different from what she said to the others.

  The voice was gentler. Not kind, just measured. Testing.

  Katharina blinked, her mouth parted to respond. But her tongue was heavy, her mind a static blur.

  What is gonna happen to me if I can't answer?

  Her lungs collapsed around the silence. Breath caught in her throat, and the fear of not understanding curdled into something worse: the fear of failing to perform. Of being punished. Of being thrown into an even worse situation than this.

  Come on, say something. Anything.

  But she couldn’t. The nothingness expanded inside her until even breathing felt impossible.

  And before Katharina could make any guesses as to what was asked of her, the brooding man was answering on her behalf again.

  "?????, ナ?∞'? °?? ??? ??? ?? 木????Ω∞, ??? ナ?∞'? ?∞??????∞? °??."

  Again, a pair of furrowed brows formed as the man spoke, and the woman answered curtly.

  "???? ナ??χ? ? ψ?????χ° ?? ???? ? 木????Ω∞ Ω??χ ??? ????∞’? ?ψ??Φ ??ψ????∞?"

  The woman turned on her heel, the black dress swirling around her, then settling softly. She took the first precise step, her heel clacking monotonously against the marble, signifying the end of the assessment, and in unison, four of the slaves stepped forward to follow her up the stairs and disappear into the manor's upper floor.

  Katharina knew she wasn't meant to follow, knew she wasn't allowed. And there they stood, the scraps left over, Katharina, the scrawny teenage boy, and the brooding man who, for some inexplicable reason, was chuckling.

  Was this outcome better or worse? Why couldn't the weird magic urge, or whatever, have told her what to say, like it had told her where to go?

  But to Katharina's immense annoyance, she didn't have to wait long for the brand to guide her once again. The three of them had let themselves out of the foyer through the French doors behind them and had walked through several dark but clearly spectacular rooms before following a long corridor to some sort of back door.

  While exiting through the back door, Katharina only considered for a brief moment if this was the time to make a run for it, before a sharp pain stabbed through her shoulder like a blade driven straight into bone. She staggered mid-step and decided that it would be better to save such thoughts for morning.

  The path from the manor led them through a moonlit garden that, in another context, might have been beautiful, and now they found themselves in front of a stable building.

  They entered through heavy doors creaking open to reveal the pungent mix of animal musk and damp hay. Lanterns hung at odd intervals, casting long shadows that flickered with each movement. Horses stirred in their stalls, their ears twitching as the three new arrivals stepped inside.

  As Katharina's eyes adjusted, she saw that scattered among the animals was a surprising number of slumbering people, slaves like her, she presumed. It was hard to tell how many there were. Dozens, maybe more.

  The brooding man from the wagon wasted no time. He made for a hay pile near the far wall and collapsed onto it with practiced ease, snoring within moments. The scrawny teenage boy slipped away without a word, vanishing into a darkened corner before Katharina could even gather the courage to decide what to do next.

  Standing there unmoving, Katharina felt the icy draft from the door licking her heels. The heat of the afternoon had been stifling on the wagon ride, but the night air that seeped through every little crack was bone-chilling. Katharina shuddered and moved to find a better spot deeper in the stable.

  Near the back of the building, she found an empty stall tucked away from the open walkway. The floor was layered in a thin scatter of old hay, but in one corner, a large pile of old linen sacks caught her eye. She crouched, tugged a few free, and attempted to fashion some semblance of a bed. She stared down at the pathetic attempt and forgave herself, as her exhaustion took hold of her.

  She sank down as her knees gave out and curled herself into the makeshift bed, wrapping one linen sack around her as the thinnest blanket she had ever known. Beneath her, she felt the hay straws poking her through both sack and clothes, but it didn't matter.

  She felt an immense pressure slowly lifting, as if a tight grip had been strangling her forever; no longer did she feel any urge to obey. But the change wasn't comforting; it just left her feeling a kind of utter loneliness, abandoned by everything.

  She turned her face to the ceiling and let the ache catch up to her.

  “I wanna go home, Mom…” she whispered, just for herself to hear. “I miss you.”

  The tears came slowly at first, warm and quiet, streaking across her temples and down into the sackcloth. She thought of her friends. Her boyfriend. Their faces felt distant now, fuzzy around the edges, like memories warped by heat.

  Were they looking for her? Had someone sounded the alarm? Or had she simply vanished, leaving everyone to believe the worst?

  What if this isn't another world at all? What if I'm dead on that sidewalk, and this is just my personal medieval purgatory?

  Her eyes blurred with fresh tears. “This can’t be real,” she mouthed. “I just want to go home.”