Across the cell, Keith pressed his face to the cold wall, muscles aching from the long transport. He could feel Rain's calm alertness beside him, steady even in exhaustion. Their breaths mingled with the damp, musty air. Every sound—the distant clang of chains, the muted footsteps of guards—felt amplified in the small, cramped space.
The hatch in front of them hissed open. Dim light spilled across the floor, revealing the narrow stone corridor beyond, lined with stacked crates and cages. The air smelled of sweat, oil, and something metallic faintly sharp. Keith's stomach twisted.
"This… must be Grayshade Crossing," he whispered, his voice hoarse.
Rain shifted slightly, the rainbow strands of her hair catching the weak light. "Not the market itself," she murmured. "Just the staging area. They process new arrivals here before sending them deeper into the Dim Realm."
Keith nodded. He had no energy to question it further. Observation was all he could do right now.
A scarred man stepped from the shadows. Broad, stocky, with a shaved head, he radiated authority without needing words. His eyes swept over them carefully.
"New arrivals," he said flatly. "Stand there."
Keith stayed a step behind Rain. She didn't flinch; her posture remained tight, alert. He noted the faint twitch of her hand adjusting her balance, a subtle signal that she was already assessing the corridor and the guards.
The hatch behind them opened again. Two more figures entered—one tall and lean, the other broad-shouldered, knuckles scarred. Their eyes swept over the pair with casual indifference, yet Keith felt the weight of their scrutiny.
"Names?" the lean one asked.
Rain answered carefully. "We weren't given any."
The broad man snorted. "Figures."
Keith said nothing. He knew speaking could give them away—or worse. Observing was safer.
"Baseline inspection first," the scarred man said, waving to two assistants. "Check for injuries, obedience, endurance."
They moved efficiently, instruments glinting under the dim light. Keith's arm was measured, his stance timed, his breathing counted. Rain's evaluation was just as meticulous. Neither moved unnecessarily. Survival demanded vigilance.
"You survived transport well," the tall figure said. "No significant strain detected. Good endurance."
Keith clenched his fists inside his pockets. Endurance made him visible, not valuable.
From a nearby cage, a boy about Keith's age leaned forward slightly, whispering just loud enough for him to hear:
"Don't trust anyone too fast. They all have motives."
Keith nodded subtly. Observation first. Trust later.
The corridor opened into a small courtyard, wider than the passage but still confined. Buyers and managers moved among the cages, comparing notes, whispering to each other. Two young captives were already being inspected, their faces pale, fear etched into every line.
"Stand there until called," the lean man said, pointing to the center of the courtyard.
Keith and Rain obeyed, eyes scanning every corner, every person. Faint whispers, hurried movements, and subtle gestures all told him information he couldn't ignore.
A man in a long coat stepped onto a raised platform. Hair neatly pulled back, eyes calculating. Two assistants flanked him—a broad woman with a hawk-like gaze and a thin man whose fingers twitched constantly.
"Baseline levels?" the coat man asked the assessors.
"Level one," the tall man said smoothly. "No recorded manifestations. Physical condition intact. Paired transfer."
Keith noted the word paired again. It lingered oddly in his mind.
The woman on the platform smiled faintly at Rain. "Interesting. Very composed."
Rain didn't move, only assessed the buyers as carefully as they assessed her.
The scarred man waved a hand. "Follow. Housing before inspection."
Keith's legs protested every step, but he walked steadily. Rain stayed close, every sense alert. Every shadow, every whisper—he cataloged it all silently.
They entered a small room. Barely larger than the cell, but cleaner. Two thin mats lay on the floor, and a single dim lamp swung slightly overhead. The door clicked shut behind them.
Rain exhaled softly. "Better than the cages."
Keith managed a quiet breath. "Barely."
From the corridor came the faint cries of new arrivals. Keith didn't flinch. Every sound carried meaning.
Rain's voice was soft, careful. "If we survive this… don't trust anyone who smiles too much."
Keith pressed his lips into a thin line. "Noted."
Outside, a bell rang—signal of another inspection, another transfer, another test.
Grayshade Crossing was only the beginning. And whatever the Dim Realm intended to make of them—Keith and Rain were not ready to surrender.