Sold to Death
The bells began ringing before the sun had fully disappeared behind the cliffs.
Their sound rolled through Blackwater slowly, deep enough to shake the windows of every house in the village. Aubrey Caster stood motionless beside the kitchen table as the mournful chimes echoed through the cottage one after another, each one settling heavier in her chest than the last. The villagers always said the bells belonged to the God of Death himself. That they rang whenever the veil between worlds opened wide enough for him to listen.
Tonight, they rang for her.
Her mother’s hands trembled as she tied the ceremonial ribbon around Aubrey’s wrists. The white silk brushed softly against her skin, delicate and beautiful despite the horror of what it represented. Aubrey stared down at the ribbon in silence while the candlelight flickered across the cramped cottage walls.
Nobody looked at her directly anymore.
Not her father sitting in the corner with a half-empty bottle clutched loosely in one hand. Not her younger brother Thomas, who stood near the stove trying and failing not to cry. Even her mother kept lowering her gaze halfway through every sentence as though Aubrey had already become something ghostly.
Something halfway gone.
“You must stay calm when you arrive,” her mother whispered weakly. “Do not anger him. Do not speak unless spoken to.”
Aubrey let out a soft breath through her nose. “You’re giving advice as though women survive long enough to need it.”
Her mother’s expression crumpled instantly.
Guilt twisted sharply inside Aubrey’s chest, but it disappeared beneath the larger ache that had lived there ever since the debt collectors arrived three nights ago. The men had not shouted. They had not needed to. Everyone in Blackwater understood what happened when debts grew too large. The old gods always collected payment eventually.
And sometimes they collected in flesh.
Her father finally spoke from across the room without lifting his eyes. “There was no other choice.”
Aubrey looked at him then.
Really looked at him.
At the exhaustion carved permanently into his face. At the shame hidden beneath the whiskey and silence. Their fishing business had collapsed after the storms destroyed half the docks last winter. Then came the sickness. Then the loans. Then the collectors.
And finally her.
She wondered how much a daughter was worth to desperate men.
The thought made her stomach twist violently.
Thomas suddenly stepped forward. “Don’t go.”
His voice cracked so painfully that Aubrey nearly broke apart where she stood.
He was only fourteen. Too young to understand why adults ruined everything they touched.
She managed a small smile for him anyway. “I don’t think I have much say in the matter.”
“You could run.”
“And go where?”
He had no answer for that.
Outside, horses approached through the snow.
The cottage fell completely silent.
Aubrey’s pulse began pounding so hard she could hear it in her ears. For one horrible moment she could not breathe properly. She had spent days imagining this moment, but reality felt infinitely worse than fear ever had. Fear still allowed hope. This did not.
A heavy knock echoed against the front door.
Her mother made a quiet sound that almost resembled a sob.
Another knock followed.
Then her father stood and crossed the room slowly, shoulders heavy with defeat. Cold air swept inside the cottage the moment he opened the door. Four temple guards waited outside beneath the falling snow, dressed in black ceremonial armor lined with silver chains that gleamed faintly beneath the lantern light.
Behind them stood a carriage darker than the night itself.
The tallest guard removed his helmet. “Aubrey Caster?”
She swallowed carefully before nodding.
“The hour has come.”
No one moved after that.
The fire crackled softly beside the stove while snow drifted through the open doorway. Aubrey realized suddenly that this was the last time she would ever stand inside her home. The last time she would smell cedar smoke and saltwater clinging to winter coats drying near the fire. The last time she would hear Thomas breathing quietly beside her.
Something inside her fractured then.
Not loudly.
Not dramatically.
Just a small painful break somewhere deep in her chest.
She walked to Thomas first and pressed a kiss against his forehead before he could stop her. He grabbed her wrist instantly, holding on so tightly it hurt.
“Aubrey…”
His voice sounded terrified.
She nearly told him she was terrified too.
Instead she gently untangled his fingers from her sleeve and stepped away before she lost the strength to do it at all.
The snow bit sharply against her skin the moment she stepped outside. Nearly the entire village had gathered along the narrow road leading toward the cliffs, lanterns glowing softly in the darkness around them. Nobody spoke. They simply watched her with solemn faces while snow settled across their coats and hair.
Some looked sympathetic.
Others relieved.
Aubrey wondered which expression hurt worse.
The guards escorted her toward the carriage in silence. Her white dress dragged softly across the snow behind her, the ceremonial fabric far too thin against the freezing wind. She wrapped her arms around herself instinctively as another violent tremor passed through her body.
The carriage door opened.
Inside waited velvet seats embroidered with silver roses.
Aubrey hesitated.
One of the guards lowered his voice slightly. “Do not be afraid.”
She almost laughed at the absurdity of the statement.
Still, she climbed inside.
The door shut firmly behind her, sealing her away from the only life she had ever known.
Then the carriage began to move.
Blackwater disappeared slowly behind falling snow.
Aubrey watched the village until the final lantern vanished into darkness. Only then did tears begin slipping silently down her face.
She cried quietly during the journey so the guards would not hear.
Hours passed.
The world outside changed gradually as the carriage traveled farther north. The familiar coastline disappeared first, replaced by frozen forests and mountains covered in silver mist. Then the sky itself began changing. The stars dimmed one by one until darkness swallowed them entirely.
Aubrey stared out the carriage window with growing dread.
The Veil.
They had reached the border between worlds.
The mist outside glowed faintly beneath the black sky, stretching endlessly in every direction like pale smoke drifting across water. Strange shapes moved inside it sometimes. Human shapes.
No.
Not human anymore.
Her hands began shaking uncontrollably.
The carriage slowed at last.
Temple bells rang somewhere in the distance.
Aubrey gathered enough courage to pull the curtain aside fully.
Her breath caught instantly.
The palace rose from the mist like something from a dream.
Towering black spires pierced the endless darkness above while silver bridges curved gracefully over glowing rivers that shimmered like liquid moonlight. Thousands of floating lanterns drifted through the air around the palace walls, casting soft golden light across marble staircases lined with pale roses.
It was beautiful.
Terribly beautiful.
Not the monstrous underworld she had imagined as a child.
This place looked ancient.
Holy.
The carriage finally stopped before enormous silver gates.
Aubrey could barely feel her heartbeat anymore.
The guards escorted her from the carriage and through the palace entrance in complete silence. The enormous hall beyond the doors stretched endlessly ahead, lined with black pillars veined with silver. Candlelight flickered softly across polished obsidian floors so reflective Aubrey could see herself trembling there.
Servants dressed entirely in black stood along the walls with lowered heads.
At the far end of the hall sat a throne carved from dark silver stone.
Empty.
Aubrey’s breathing grew shallow.
Where was he?
The silence became unbearable.
Then every candle in the hall extinguished at once.
Darkness swallowed everything.
Aubrey gasped softly as cold rushed through the room like winter flooding an open grave.
Footsteps echoed somewhere ahead.
Slow.
Measured.
Approaching.
The candles reignited one by one.
And there he stood.
The God of Death.
Aubrey forgot how to breathe.
He did not look monstrous.
That frightened her more than anything.
Tall and impossibly elegant, Dorcus Maine stood wrapped in black embroidered silk that shimmered faintly beneath the candlelight like moving shadows. Dark hair fell carelessly across his forehead, softening the sharpness of his face just enough to make him seem almost unreal.
But his eyes destroyed the illusion instantly.
Silver.
Ancient silver.
Eyes that had watched kingdoms burn and oceans dry.
The servants fell to their knees immediately.
Dorcus did not look at them.
He only looked at her.
The weight of his gaze settled over Aubrey so completely she felt pinned beneath it. Yet there was no cruelty in his expression. No hunger. No satisfaction.
Only quiet attention.
As though he could hear every terrified beat of her heart.
“Aubrey Caster,” he said at last.
His voice was low and smooth, carrying easily through the enormous hall.
She had expected something colder.
Something monstrous.
Instead his voice sounded tired.
“You stand before the throne of death.”
Aubrey forced herself to keep meeting his eyes despite the fear crawling beneath her skin. “I know.”
Something flickered across his face then. Brief surprise perhaps.
Dorcus stepped toward her slowly.
The room felt colder with every step he took.
Aubrey’s pulse hammered painfully against her ribs as he stopped directly in front of her. Up close, he seemed even less human somehow. Not because he looked frightening, but because he looked too perfect. Too still.
Like a statue taught to breathe.
His gaze lowered slightly.
To her hands.
She realized suddenly they were shaking violently.
A strange expression crossed his face then. Something unreadable. Something dangerously close to concern.
The God of Death lifted one pale hand toward her slowly.
Aubrey froze completely.
But instead of touching her skin, he brushed a snowflake carefully from her hair.
His fingers lingered there for the briefest second.
Like he had forgotten what softness felt like.
“You’re cold,” Dorcus murmured quietly.
Then, before Aubrey could even process the words, he removed the black cloak from his own shoulders and draped it gently around hers.
