Behind Kaelen and the strange old man, the auction house was still alive with noise: men and women arguing over their purchases, merchants haggling, and the crack of a whip now and then as some stubborn slaves were forced into submission.

  Kaelen paid it little heed since his attention was on the stranger whose grip on the chain was firm but not cruel. Even so, every time the metal links rattled, Kaelen’s stomach twisted, making him think, 'Doesn’t matter if it’s cruel or firm. Chains are chains. They all mean the same thing.'

  It was an uneven road of cobblestones, cracked and worn from years of use. The air smelled of damp earth, of rotting wood, and of that unmistakable stench that came with the auction block—the sweat, blood, and desperation of those who'd stood where he had.

  He had seen other slaves fight back and get the living sense beaten out of them, or worse. He had chosen silence, not because he didn't have the will to fight, but because he knew that fighting only delayed the inevitable.

  Now, walking behind this stranger, he wasn't so sure that was still true.

  The old man said nothing as they navigated the shadowed streets. Flickering torchlights danced across his tattered cloak, its green fabric frayed at the edges.

  Looking at the old man, Kaelen thought, 'This old man had a Zhilstone. So, this old fool must be a mage... but... it's strange- mages, or at least the ones that I have seen from a distance, were always pristine and well-dressed. However, this man looks more like a beggar than a mage. Even the way he walks... it's controlled. There's a tension in his body, not weakness but... it's something else. I can't put my finger on it.'

  While he was walking behind the mage, a group of drunkards walked out of a tavern ahead, their laughter echoing down the street.

  One of them, a broad-shouldered man with a scar down his cheek, took notice of them.

  His eyes flickered to Kaelen, then to the old man holding his chain.

  'A nice prey!', The man thought, and a small grin formed on his lips. He whistled and shouted, "Oi, old man! That’s quite the prize you got there. Don’t suppose you’d be willing to sell it?”

  Kaelen tensed his body and gulped in fear.

  The old man, however, didn’t stop walking. He didn’t even turn his head and politely replied, "No."

  The drunkard’s grin widened, but there was a sharpness in his gaze now as he tried to persuade the old man, “Ah, come on now, I’ll pay you double what you paid.”

  The old man sighed tiredly and replied, “I’m not interested.”

  The drunken man walked toward the duo, his companions moving with him. Kaelen's muscles coiled, ready to react if the situation called for it. He'd seen this kind of man before-opportunists just waiting for something to break, something to claim.

  The old man finally stopped walking. He turned to look at the drunken men and suddenly the air shifted.

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  Kaelen felt it immediately, though he couldn’t quite explain how. The space around them became... heavy. The distant sounds of the city seemed to fade into a dull hum.

  The drunkard opened his mouth to say something else—then stopped. His expression twisted, his pupils shrinking as if he had just seen something incomprehensible.

  Then, as if a spell had been broken, he stumbled backward, shook his head and murmured, “Tch. Forget it.”

  He turned on his heel, gesturing for his companions to follow, and disappeared into the night.

  Kaelen slowly exhaled, realizing only then that he had been holding his breath, and thought, 'What the hell just happened?'

  He turned his head slightly, glancing at the old man’s profile, 'He didn’t even raise a hand. Didn’t recite any incantation. But... something changed.'

  The old man resumed walking with a nonchalant expression, pulling Kaelen who clenched his jaw, thinking, 'Who the hell is this guy?'

  After walking in silence for almost half an hour before the old man finally spoke in a merry tone, "You don't trust me."

  Kaelen snorted, saying sarcastically, "I'd have to be an idiot to trust someone who bought me."

  The old man chuckled, sounding more amused than offended and replied, “Fair.”

  After mustering up some courage, Kaelen asked, "What do you want?”

  The old man didn’t answer immediately. Instead, he reached into his robes and pulled something out—a rusted iron key. Without a word, he twisted the lock on Kaelen’s shackles, and with a soft click, they fell to the ground.

  Kaelen blinked absentmindedly, 'Wha—?'

  He flexed his fingers, rubbing the skin where the metal had dug into him. His mind raced, trying to make sense of it as he asked him, “...Why?”

  The old man tucked the key away and shrugged his shoulders while saying, “I don’t keep people in chains.”

  Kaelen thought, 'That’s it? No explanation? I have spent my entire life waiting for the second blade to fall-the price of kindness... which was always pain.'

  He rubbed his shoulders and said, "If you think letting me walk around unchained means I owe you anything, you’re wrong.”

  The old man gave him a sideways glance, eyes gleaming with something unreadable and said, “I expect nothing from you, Kaelen.”

  Kaelen frowned and took a step back, “You know my name.”

  The old man grinned and replied, "I do.”

  A chill ran down Kaelen’s spine as he questioned himself, 'How?'

  Kaelen had never told him. The auctioneer hadn’t called him by name—just the horned one.

  The old man must have seen the suspicion on his face because his grin broadened further and he said, "I make it my business to know interesting things."

  Kaelen fought the urge to take another step back as he thought, 'He’s playing with me.'

  He asked, "How am I interesting?”

  The old man stopped walking, turning to face him fully for the first time. His golden eyes locked onto Kaelen’s, the torchlight reflecting in them like fire and he replied, "Because you are.”

  Silence stretched between them.

  Kaelen clenched his fists and replied angrily, "That’s not an answer.”

  The old man smiled. and said,“No, it isn’t.”

  Kaelen gritted his teeth and said, "You’re enjoying this.”

  The old man shrugged and replied, "A little.”

  Kaelen exhaled sharply, running a hand through his messy black hair, 'This is insane.'

  He let out a bitter laugh and said, "You’re mad. And I’m stuck with you.”

  The old man’s eyes gleamed with something almost mischievous and he replied, "Oh, I wouldn’t say stuck. You’re free to leave whenever you want.”

  Kaelen froze, 'Wha-?'

  The old man gestured down the road and said, “If you want to walk away, go. I won’t stop you.”

  Kaelen looked past him, down the dark streets and thought, 'If I leave now, I’d be alone. Again. No food. No money. No real direction. And yet, the alternative—staying with this strange, unreadable man—feels just as uncertain.'

  Kaelen swallowed hard looking at the old man as he searched for any sign of deceit.

  The old man simply waited.

  Kaelen exhaled after a few seconds and took a step forward.

  The old man smiled at him and said, "Good choice.”