Shattered Sanity

The next morning was when Riven saw Lyra for the last time.

The cage door was thrown open without ceremony, and one by one the women were ordered out, their names unimportant, their worth measured only by age, beauty, obedience, and what each of them could be traded for, as the Ashfang men who had captured them lead them out and began sorting them in the open like livestock at market, pushing chins upward, checking teeth, turning faces toward the light, and discussing prices as if the women could no longer hear human speech.

Lyra was taken first.

Brakk studied her for a long moment before calling over another man whose back was bent slightly forward in the shape of a camel.

His name was ’Spider’, and even as a child, Riven remembered disliking him more than Brakk.

Brakk was filth made obvious.

However, Spider was worse.

Just looking into his eyes, one could tell he did not see people as human, because his gaze did not pull away from the sufferings of other humans the way it did for the other Ashfang warriors, as although the entire tribe was rotten, there was still a brief hesitation in some of them, a moment where they looked and then looked away.

However, there was none of that in Spider.

His eyes stayed where they landed, moving over Lyra slowly, stopping where they pleased, before returning again without pause, as he studied her not as a frightened child, but rather as a commodity that was to be weighed, priced, and used.

”Five silver taels, she’ll do,” He said after studying her for a while, his voice thin and dry while his eyes moved over her features with a merchant’s cold appraisal. ”Pretty enough already, and she’ll only grow into it.”

He assessed, as Alira’s body stiffened immediately at those words.

Her arms tightened around Riven while Lyra instinctively reached for her, and for one brief second the girl’s small hand actually found her mother’s sleeve before Brakk yanked her backward hard enough to make her stumble.

”No,” Alira said.

It came out cracked and weak from thirst and grief, but it was still a mother’s voice.

”No, please... not her... take me instead, she’s just a child.”

Alira pleaded, as Spider glanced at her once and looked bored.

”She has the face for it,” he said. ”There are men beyond this tribe who pay very well for girls who can smile while listening, flatter while lying, and open doors other men cannot. However, I don’t deal in old women.”

He gave a faint shrug.

”Ill take the young one.... If she survives the shaping, she might even thank me one day.”

Alira lurched forward at that, but Kell’s hand struck her across the mouth before she could take more than half a step, as the blow sent her crashing back against the side of the cage while Riven nearly slipped from her grasp.

Lyra screamed then, the sound breaking out of her all at once as she twisted in Brakk’s grip.

”MOTHER!”

She cried, as Alira tried to get to her again.

”Lyra.... My baby....”

Alira muttered, as despite being hit hard across her face, she continued to crawl towards Lyra on her knees, one arm still wrapped around Riven while the other reached for her daughter with a desperation so raw it stripped away everything else....

For one fleeting moment the distance between them seemed close enough to overcome, until Spider’s men started to drag Lyra away before their hands could meet.

*Rattle*

*Pull*

Riven remembered seeing his sister twisting in their grip, her hair falling across her face while her feet kicked uselessly against the dirt.

”Mother, I’m scared, where are they taking me?”

Her voice shook as the words came out uneven, her breath breaking between them as she struggled against the hands holding her.

”Why are you doing this? What have I ever done to deserve this?

Mother, what’s going to happen to me?”

She muttered while trying to turn back toward Alira, her eyes wide, searching, desperate.

”Mother... will I see you again? Are you coming where they’re taking me?”

She asked, as Alira screamed with all her strength in response.

”Lyra! Listen to me!”

Her voice cracked as she tried to give her daughter some last ditch advice that might save her life.

”Don’t fight them, you’ll get hurt... just... just breathe—!”

Her words came fast, breaking apart as she tried to hold herself together.

”Be brave for me, do you hear me? Pray to Minerva, pray like I taught you, she will give you strength, she will watch over you!”

Lyra shook her head violently.

”Don’t let them take me, please! MOTHER!”

She begged as Alira’s voice faltered for a second before she forced it out again.

”I will find you, Lyra, I swear it, I will find you—!”

But the distance kept growing.

Lyra’s cries stretched thinner as she was dragged farther away, her voice rising and breaking all at once.

”Mother—!”

And Alira answered, even as her steps failed her.

”I’m here.... *Sob* I’m here!”

But the space between them swallowed the words, until even their voices began to tear apart, fading into something that no one in Ashfang cared to hear.

And just like that, she was gone.

The sister he had known for barely seven months taken away from him.

As although he did not know it then, he would come to miss her often later in life.

However, at that moment, before they even had time to recover from Lyra being taken, hands seized Alira and dragged her to her feet, as she was forced forward across the settlement toward one of the larger huts.

She twisted once, trying to look back.

”Lyra—!”

The name tore out of her again, but there was nothing left to see.

Only men, movement, and smoke, as Kell and Brakk dragged Alira to the man they intended to sell her off too.

The hut entrance was covered with thick leather hides that shifted slightly in the wind, while beads, bones, and strips of colored cloth hung from the outer posts, clinking softly as they brushed together, trying and failing to make the place look like something other than what it was..... a dirty brothel.

They dragged her inside.

And the first thing that hit Riven was the smell.

It was thick.... Clinging.

Sweet perfume layered over sweat too deeply soaked into the wood to ever fully leave, mixed with burned oil and stale wine, the air inside thick enough to cling to the back of the throat.

The man waiting within was Hagrid, the local pimp.

Broader than Kell and cleaner than Brakk, he kept himself presentable, his clothes intact, his hair combed back neatly, yet something about him still felt fouler than either of them, as if the filth had simply been hidden beneath the surface instead of left out in the open.

Then his eyes settled on Alira.

And slowly, they began to wander.

From her eyes to her mouth, then lower, then back again, pausing where they pleased without hesitation, without discomfort, as if there was nothing in front of him that required restraint.

He stepped closer and grabbed her hands, checking the texture of her skin as he hummed thoughtfully.

”Hmmmm...”

He circled once, his gaze never leaving her.

”Pretty face. Good bones. Nice eyes.”

His lips shifted slightly.

”Shame about the grief.”

He stopped in front of her.

”But that can be beaten out.”

He muttered, as Alira lowered her gaze immediately, not because she accepted him, but because survival had already begun teaching her what open defiance could cost.

Riven was still in her arms when Hagrid stopped before them, and the man looked first at the child, then back at the mother, before smiling in a way that made the room feel colder despite the fire.

”So this is the leash,” he said softly.

Kell gave a small nod from behind them.

”Useful, isn’t it?”

Hagrid chuckled.

”Yes,” he said. ”Very.”

And standing there in his mother’s arms, too young to resist and too cursed to forget, Riven Veyr watched the men decide what price Alira would be sold for, while the morning sun rose higher above the Ashfang Tribe and the first true shape of his suffering quietly began to unfold.