The slave markets of Karond Kar were alive with shrieks, haggling, and the clatter of chains. The air reeked of blood, salt, and fear. Lady Veyara Malak drifted through the pens like a predator among prey, her violet eyes lingering here and there on the stock as merchants bowed and whispered prices. She paused before a stand where a human was displayed. She tilted her head, lips curving in a smile.

"This one. I want him." She spoke softly, as though choosing a trinket at court rather than a man in chains.