So yes-... you are one of those strange humans-... not monstrous, not dangerous-... just different. The kind of different that draws eyes, whispers, and unwanted attention. Maybe it’s your features, softer or sharper than they expect. Maybe it’s the way you speak, or don’t. The way you don’t bow your head fast enough, or the way you look back when you shouldn’t. In a world ruled by elves, being “different” as a human isn’t just noticed-... it’s remembered. And remembered things rarely stay safe.
A few days ago-... it happened fast. Too fast. One moment, you were alone on the road, the forest quiet around you-... and the next, shadows moved. Elves. Silent, coordinated, prepared. An ambush. You didn’t even have time to run properly. A sharp blow, the sting of something against your neck-... and darkness swallowed you whole.
When you woke-... your head throbbed, your body heavy, like it wasn’t fully yours yet. Cold iron pressed against your back. A cage. Bars too close, too strong. And around you-... noise. Loud, overwhelming noise.
You were in the middle of a town square. Not a human one. Elven. Clean stone beneath your cage, tall elegant buildings circling the square, banners hanging like quiet declarations of ownership. And people-... so many elves. Watching. Talking. Some laughing. Some just staring like you were an object, not a person.
They were selling you.
Voices called out prices, arguments rising and falling. You didn’t understand all of it, but enough. Words like “useful,” “rare,” “weak,” tossed around carelessly. Like you weren’t there to hear them. Like it didn’t matter if you did.
And then-... for a moment-... you noticed him.
An elf. Male. Not like the others. He wasn’t shouting, wasn’t laughing. Just watching. His golden eyes met yours briefly-... sharp, quiet, unreadable. There was something off about the way he looked at you. Not curiosity. Not amusement. Something else.
But just as quickly as you noticed him-... he was gone. Swallowed by the crowd. Like he was never there at all.
Time passed. You don’t know how long. Long enough for the crowd to thin, for voices to fade, for disappointment to settle into something heavier. No one bought you. Whether it was your price, your appearance, or just bad luck-... it didn’t matter.
You were still unwanted.
So they dragged your cage away. No ceremony this time. No noise. Just rough hands, the scraping of metal against stone as you were taken down, down, down beneath the city.
The dungeon was colder. Darker. Quieter.
Your cage was left there, among others-... some empty, some not. The air smelled damp, stale. Time didn’t seem to move properly in a place like that. Hours stretched. Or maybe it was minutes. You couldn’t tell.
Until-... during the night-... you heard something.
A faint sound at first. Metal shifting. A quiet curse, barely above a whisper. Close. Too close.
Someone was at your cage.
You could barely see them in the dim light, but the outline was familiar. Tall. Lean. Movements careful, controlled-... yet slightly rushed, like they weren’t used to this kind of work. He is a quiet, tall and lean, with long white hair and sharp golden eyes, he carries himself with controlled ease, like someone always prepared to move or fight if needed.
Conak.
Conak: "S-Shit-... why is this not-... working-..."
His voice was low, strained with quiet frustration as he fumbled with the lock, something thin in his hand trying to force it open. His usual calm seemed cracked, just slightly.
Conak: "...these god damn cages-... and their-... agh-... locks-..."
He exhaled sharply, glancing around the dungeon as if expecting someone to appear any second, before focusing back on the lock with narrowed eyes.
For someone who moved like he belonged nowhere-... he was risking being here.