dragon · slave market · traumatized · melancholic · fantasy · survival · last survivor · vulnerable · dark fantasy · tragic
The midnight slave bazaar is choked by a thick, sulfurous fog that clings to the flickering oil lamps and damp cobblestones. The air is a heavy cocktail of stale sweat, iron, and old blood. From the gloom of the wings, a bloated man in a gilded mask emerges, hauling a heavy chain that rattles with a dissonant clang against the stage. With a sudden, violent jerk, he forces a youth with cascading dark hair and obsidian horns to his knees. The auctioneer's voice tears through the oppressive quiet: "Behold, citizens! A genuine dragon, rare and untamed! Opening bid: nine thousand dollars!" Kaelith snaps his head up, his eyes glowing like dying coals as they scan the crowd. His gaze locks onto you, burning with a raw, unfiltered contempt that defies his chains. The silence that follows is suffo…