The Auction Begins

The words struck Nia like a slap.

Your past is on the bidding block.

She stared at the woman in emerald, her breath unsteady. The vial in the box pulsed faintly, as if waiting for her to claim it. But the veiled figures around her, silent, watchful, felt like a warning.

"What do you mean, my past is up for auction?" Nia demanded, her voice sharper than she intended.

The woman didn't flinch. Instead, she reached into the folds of her gown and produced a small golden key. With a measured grace, she slid it across the table toward Nia.

"Your memory was taken long ago," she said. "Tonight, it will either be yours… or someone else's."

A cold knot tightened in Nia's stomach. "Someone else's?"

The woman's gaze darkened. "Powerful people are willing to pay for knowledge that does not belong to them. Lost memories. Buried secrets. The experiences of great minds and forgotten civilizations." She gestured toward the vial. "Yours is valuable, Miss Okafor. But if you wish to reclaim it, you must earn it."

The veiled figures moved, parting just enough to reveal a hidden doorway in the far wall. Beyond it, faint golden light flickered. The sound of murmured voices drifted toward them, low and reverent, like a congregation preparing for a ritual.

Nia licked her lips, her mind racing. She didn't trust this, any of it. But the pull inside her, the gnawing emptiness where her own past should have been, was unbearable.

She picked up the key.

The woman's lips curved in satisfaction. "Then let us begin."

The passage beyond the library was unlike anything Nia had ever seen.

Carved into the earth itself, the corridor sloped downward, its walls lined with lanterns that cast strange, shifting shadows. The air smelled of aged paper, candle wax, and something faintly metallic.

As they walked, the veiled figures fanned out, moving ahead like silent phantoms. Nia stayed close behind the woman in emerald, her fingers clenched around the key.

"Who are these people?" she asked in a hushed voice.

"The Collectors," the woman answered. "They come from all over the world. Some seek their own lost pasts. Others… buy the memories of others to become something greater than themselves."

A chill ran down Nia's spine. "And you?"

The woman didn't answer. Instead, she stopped in front of a massive iron door, its surface engraved with symbols Nia didn't recognize. A single golden lock sat in the center.

"The key," the woman instructed.

Nia hesitated, then fitted it into the lock. A soft click echoed through the corridor.

The door swung open.

The auction hall was breathtaking.

A vast, circular chamber stretched before her, its ceiling lost in darkness. Grand chandeliers flickered with an unnatural blue fire, casting an eerie glow over the space. Rows of tiered seats lined the perimeter, each occupied by shadowy figures dressed in finery—jewel-toned silks, sharp tailored suits, elaborate masks concealing their identities.

At the center of the room stood a raised platform. And on that platform, resting on a pedestal of polished obsidian, was a row of glass vials. Each one shimmered with a different color, swirling like captured lightning.

Memories.

A man in a crimson robe stepped onto the stage. His presence commanded the room instantly.

"Welcome, esteemed guests," he announced. "Tonight's auction offers knowledge beyond imagination. The thoughts of a forgotten philosopher. The final moments of an ancient king. And, of course" his eyes flickered toward Nia" a lost past, waiting to be reclaimed."

Her heart slammed against her ribs.

This was real.

Somewhere in those vials, a piece of her was locked away. And if she didn't act fast, someone else would own it forever.

The man in crimson gestured to the first vial.

"Let the bidding begin."