Watcher of Fate

Elara sat cross-legged on the cold, unforgiving stone floor of her pit cell, the coarse blanket draped loosely over her shoulders. The dim light filtering through the iron grate above cast elongated shadows that danced eerily around her. Closing her eyes, she took a deep, steadying breath, allowing the ambient sounds of dripping water and distant murmurs to fade into the background.

She turned her focus inward, delving deep into the wellspring of her inner being. The completion of her core's braiding had brought her one step closer to freedom, but she knew that without wrapping it in shadow threads, her primary affinity remained unattuned. Determined, she summoned her concentration to attempt casting [Altered Reality] to see if her newfound strength would overcome the collar’s restrictions.

Elara visualized the intricate lattice of her core, the braided threads pulsating with latent energy. Reaching into this reservoir, she began to draw forth the white and silver threads. The mana flowed effortlessly through her core, coursing along the braided pathways and radiating outward toward her hands. A warm sensation enveloped her, a gentle euphoria that ignited a flicker of hope within her chest. The energy was pure and potent, more so than she had ever felt before.

As the mana reached her fingertips, she extended her hands, palms facing outward. The threads of light and force shimmered as they emerged, weaving into the beginnings of the spell. But the moment the threads left her fingers, they began to waver. Before her eyes, they disintegrated, evaporating into the ether like mist under the morning sun.

The exhilarating high of channeling her mana came crashing down. A pang of frustration and despair knotted in her stomach. Her hands fell to her sides, and she opened her eyes to stare blankly at the stone wall before her.

"Don't lose heart, Elara," Quill's gentle voice echoed in her mind. The small, ethereal crow appeared beside her, his luminescent wings fluttering softly. "You should try again. We can't give up now."

She took a shaky breath and nodded. "You're right," she whispered. "I have to keep trying."

Closing her eyes once more, Elara summoned her resolve. This time, she decided to tap into her [Unified Presence] skill, merging her physical reflexes, mana regeneration, and aura control into a harmonious state. She centered herself, feeling the subtle rhythm of her heartbeat aligning with the flow of mana within her core.

Reaching out again, she drew the white and silver threads through her core. The mana moved smoothly, resonating with the unified state of her being. As the threads approached her hands, she extended her control beyond her physical form, enveloping the threads with her heightened awareness.

The threads began to form, coalescing into shimmering strands that hovered just beyond her fingertips. For a moment, they held steady, and Elara felt a surge of exhilaration. But then she sensed pressure from an external force pushing back against her mana. The collar around her neck grew warm, its suppressive enchantments straining against her efforts.

The resistance intensified, creating a tangible strain on her aura control. The threads wavered, their luminosity flickering as they struggled to maintain cohesion. Elara gritted her teeth, focusing all her willpower on sustaining the spell. The mana lagged, each moment requiring more effort to counteract the suppressive force that sought to snuff it out.

"Come on," she urged herself silently, pouring more energy into the threads. The pressure mounted, a crushing weight that bore down on her spirit. Sweat beaded on her forehead, and her muscles trembled from the exertion.

Finally, the strain became too great. The threads unraveled abruptly, dissipating into nothingness. A wave of exhaustion washed over her, and she gasped for breath, her chest heaving as if she had run a great distance.

"It's no use," she murmured, her voice tinged with frustration. "The collar's suppression is too strong. I need my mana to be even stronger, and I need better external control."

Quill hovered closer, his eyes filled with empathy. "Perhaps when you finish wrapping your core and gain the new skill, you'll hopefully have the strength you need," he said. "Your shadow affinity might be the key to overcoming the collar's enchantments."

Elara looked up at him, determination rekindling in her gaze. "You're right. Completing the wrapping might enhance my abilities enough to break through." She took a deep breath, steadying herself. "I have to finish it. There's no other way."

Settling back against the stone wall, Elara closed her eyes and began to focus inward once more. She visualized the intricate braids of her core, preparing to wrap them in threads of shadow to solidify her primary affinity. The ambient sounds of the underground prison faded as she delved deeper into her inner world.

Just as she started drawing the shadow threads toward her core, Quill's urgent whisper echoed in her mind. "Elara, a guard is approaching!"

Her eyes snapped open, and the ethereal threads dissipated like smoke. Quickly, she adjusted her posture, lying down on the rough floor and pulling the coarse blanket over herself to feign sleep. Her heart pounded as she regulated her breathing, ears attuned to the approaching footsteps echoing above.

A [Drow Guard] stopped at the edge of her pit, his silhouette casting a long shadow across her curled form. "Wake up, slave!" he barked, his voice sharp and commanding. A bundle dropped from his grasp, landing with a thud beside her. "Get dressed. Now!"

Elara stirred, pretending to rouse groggily. She sat up slowly, blinking as if disoriented, and looked up at the guard. His crimson eyes glinted with impatience, and a sneer curled his lips.

"Move quickly, or you'll regret it," he spat.

She glanced at the package beside her and cautiously untied the simple cord holding it together. Inside, she found layers of a delicate garment made from silk chiffon, a fabric so sheer it was nearly transparent. Alongside them was a pair of silken slippers, their surfaces embroidered with intricate patterns that caught the dim light.

A flush of apprehension washed over Elara as she realized how revealing the attire was. She looked up at the guard, her expression mixed with confusion and discomfort.

He met her gaze with a cold smile. "Hurry up and get dressed. We don't have all day."

Swallowing her unease, Elara gathered the garments and attempted to dress while wrapping the blanket around her for modesty. The slick fabric clung to her skin, and the multiple layers did little to obscure her figure. Each movement caused the material to shift, making her silhouette visible through the gossamer cloth.

Above, the guard chuckled at her struggle. "Pathetic," he muttered. "You're wasting time."

Her cheeks flushed with embarrassment, but she maintained her composure. Fully dressed, she kept the blanket tightly around her shoulders, hoping to preserve some semblance of privacy.

Moments later, the [Drow Guard] lowered a ladder into the pit. The iron rungs clanged against the stone walls as they extended downward. Another [Drow Guard] appeared beside the first, his expression equally stern. Both had bows in hand, arrows nocked and pointed directly at her.

"Up you go," the second [Drow Guard] ordered, gesturing with a slight tilt of his weapon.

Elara stood slowly, the blanket still wrapped around her. She approached the ladder, her movements careful. Climbing with one hand proved difficult as she clutched the blanket with the other. The guards watched her every move, their eyes cold and unyielding.

As she emerged from the pit, the first guard stepped forward. With a swift motion, he snatched the blanket away, leaving her exposed in the diaphanous garments. Elara gasped softly, crossing her arms instinctively in an attempt to shield herself.

"None of that," he snapped, discarding the blanket behind him. The second guard approached and clipped a slender chain to the collar around her neck. The metal was cool against her skin, and the faint sound of the chain rattling sent a shiver down her spine.

"Follow," the second guard commanded, giving the chain a gentle tug. He began to lead her down a dimly lit passageway carved into the stone, the walls adorned with faintly glowing fungi that cast eerie shadows. The first guard trailed a few paces behind, his bow still at the ready.

Elara walked cautiously, acutely aware of the guards' presence and the delicate fabric that offered little protection from the chill air or prying eyes. Her mind raced with thoughts of escape, but without her abilities fully realized, any rash action could be fatal.

Quill's reassuring voice echoed softly in her mind. "Stay calm. We'll find a way out of this."

She gave the slightest nod, keeping her gaze forward. The passageway stretched ahead, its destination unknown. The weight of the chain and the oppressive atmosphere pressed upon her, but deep within, the ember of her resolve burned brighter.

As they progressed deeper into the labyrinthine tunnels of the Underdark, the air grew thicker, tinged with a metallic scent that clung to Elara's senses. Faint echoes of distant voices and the clinking of chains reached her ears, each sound amplifying the tension coiling within her. The rough stone walls were occasionally adorned with luminescent fungi, casting eerie glows that painted shifting patterns on the [Drow Guard]s' armor and the slick floor beneath her feet.

After several winding turns, they emerged into a cavernous chamber that served as a staging area. Dimly lit by clusters of bioluminescent crystals, the space was filled with cages and holding pens crafted from dark iron. Inside them, a multitude of captives awaited their fate: humans, regular and grayish dwarves, elves, and other races unfamiliar to Elara. All were collared and chained, their eyes reflecting a mix of fear, resignation, and defiance.

A heavy knot formed in Elara's stomach as she took in the scene. The sheer number of prisoners was staggering, and the air was thick with despair. The [Drow Guard]s led her past rows of cages, the murmurs of the captives hushed as they watched her pass. Some eyes held pity, others envy, and a few glinted with the faint spark of hope at the sight of someone unbroken.

Elara's emotions churned, anger at the [Drow]'s cruelty, sorrow for the souls trapped here, and a gnawing anxiety about her own uncertain fate. The delicate garments she wore felt like a mockery, a facade of elegance imposed upon her in this place of suffering.

"Stay strong," Quill whispered, sensing her turmoil. "We're not alone in this."

They stopped near a platform draped with dark silks, where an auctioneer stood overseeing the sale of the captives. His voice, smooth yet commanding, echoed throughout the chamber as he presented each prisoner to the assembled crowd. [Drow] buyers milled about the room, their expressions sharp and appraising. Most were women adorned in elaborate robes and armor, signifying their status in the matriarchal society.

Elara listened as the auctioneer extolled the virtues of each slave, their skills and attributes reduced to mere commodities. Bids were called out in a melodic yet harsh language. She heard captives sold individually for sums ranging from twenty to thirty crystals while groups were auctioned for more significant amounts, fifty crystals to five gems.

As she waited, her two guards remained close, their vigilance unbroken. Elara noticed that none of the other captives had personal guards, a fact that did not escape the attention of those around her. Whispered speculations flitted through the crowd, and she caught fragments of conversations, their glances often directed her way.

With each passing moment, the number of people in the staging area dwindled. One by one, the captives were paraded before the buyers, their fates sealed with the strike of a gavel and the exchange of currency. Elara's heart pounded in her chest, a mix of dread and defiance coursing through her veins.

Suddenly, the auctioneer's voice rose above the ambient noise, taking on a heightened enthusiasm. "And now, esteemed guests, we present the final offering of the evening, a true rarity to grace our halls!"

The crowd's murmurs intensified, heads turning toward the stage with keen interest. The guards exchanged a glance before pulling gently on the chain, guiding Elara forward. Her feet felt heavy, but she willed herself to move, each step deliberate despite the tremor in her limbs.

Ascending the steps to the platform, Elara was acutely aware of every gaze upon her. The sea of [Drow] faces below was a tapestry of intrigue and desire, their eyes reflecting the dim light with an unsettling gleam. The majority were women, their attire ranging from opulent gowns to sleek battle armor, each exuding an air of authority and command.

The auctioneer gestured grandly in her direction. "Behold, a high-level female bard of exceptional beauty and grace! Tall and poised, with talents that will entertain and captivate. And rest assured, she possesses no offensive spells, ensuring complete compliance and safety for her new owner."

A flush of indignation heated Elara's cheeks. The description stripped her of identity, reducing her to a mere object for their possession. She clenched her hands at her sides, nails digging into her palms as she fought to maintain her composure.

"Let the bidding commence at one gem!" the auctioneer declared, his voice ringing with authority.

A moment of silence hung in the air before a [Drow] woman near the front raised her hand elegantly. "One gem," she stated coolly.

"One gem offered!" the auctioneer echoed. "Do I hear two?"

Another hand shot up, a stern-looking matron adorned with intricate silver jewelry. "Two gems."

"Two gems! A fine bid from House Val'ryn. Will anyone offer three?"

The bids escalated swiftly. "Three gems," called out a younger [Drow] with sharp features and a calculating gaze.

"Four gems," countered another, her eyes never leaving Elara.

With each increasing bid, Elara's sense of humiliation deepened. She stood exposed under the scrutinizing stares, the sheer fabric of her garments doing little to shield her from their appraising eyes. The weight of their attention felt like a tangible force pressing down on her, igniting a blend of anger and vulnerability.

"Five gems!"

"Seven!"

"Ten gems!"

The auctioneer's excitement grew palpable. "Ten gems! An extraordinary offer! Who will make it eleven?"

"Eleven gems," a voice called from the back, firm and assertive.

Elara's gaze swept over the crowd, her eyes meeting those of the bidders. She saw greed, ambition, and cold calculation. To them, she was a prize, a means to an end in their intricate power plays.

"Fifteen gems," declared the stern matron from earlier, a smug smile tugging at her lips.

"Twenty gems!" The younger [Drow]'s voice rang out, a hint of challenge in her tone.

The room buzzed with tension. Elara's heart raced, a mix of fear and indignation swirling within her. She felt like a pawn in a game she did not understand, her fate being bartered without regard for her will or humanity.

"Twenty-five gems," came a measured voice from a dignified [Drow] woman draped in robes of deep crimson. Her eyes held a steely resolve.

"Thirty gems," countered the stern matron, her jaw set.

The auctioneer practically beamed. "Thirty gems! A remarkable bid! Is there anyone who wishes to offer more?"

A hush fell over the crowd. The stakes had reached a level that gave even the wealthiest pause. Elara's breaths came shallow and quick, the reality of her situation pressing in from all sides.

"Thirty-two gems," the younger [Drow] announced, her gaze locking with the matron's in open defiance.

The matron's eyes narrowed, a flicker of irritation crossing her features. A tense silence stretched before she finally inclined her head ever so slightly, conceding the bid.

"Thirty-two gems! Going once, going twice, sold to Lady Selya of House Nar'ithil!" The auctioneer's gavel struck the podium with a resounding thud.

A ripple of murmurs swept through the audience as the transaction concluded. Elara's stomach twisted, a sinking feeling settling in her core. The guards moved to her side, the chain tugging gently as they prepared to lead her away.

Humiliation washed over her like a cold tide. She had been displayed, evaluated, and sold, all agency stripped away in a spectacle of power and wealth. The sheer helplessness of the moment threatened to overwhelm her.

"Elara," Quill's voice whispered softly in her mind, a beacon amid the storm of her emotions. "Remember who you are. This doesn't define you."

She swallowed hard, fighting back the sting of tears. I won't let them break me, she vowed silently. *I am more than what they see.

As she was escorted off the stage, Elara lifted her chin ever so slightly, a subtle act of defiance that went unnoticed by most but felt significant to her. The path ahead was shrouded in uncertainty, but within her burned a steadfast determination to reclaim her freedom and dignity.

The crowd began to disperse, the hum of conversations fading as the [Drow] returned to their own affairs. Lady Selya approached with a measured stride, her expression unreadable.

"Bring her to my carriage," she instructed the guards curtly. "We have much to discuss."