Alix glances down at the new mark on his hand, then looks toward the cage again.
The woman is still standing. Still silent. But her eyes—those calm, steady crimson eyes—are open now. Watching him.
Not a word leaves her lips.
Alix walks toward the cage and gestures.
"Come."
The chains clink softly as the woman steps forward. Her movements are slow but deliberate, like every inch of her is being weighed against unseen resistance. She stops just in front of Alix, close enough for her breath to touch the edge of his cloak.
Then, in a voice as quiet as smoke, she speaks for the first time.
"…Master."
The word hangs in the air, fragile and strange. Not desperate. Not submissive. Just a statement of fact.
Alix studies her face—dirt-smeared, blood-flecked, eyes like still embers beneath ash.
"What is your name?" he asks.
