The Albino Beast

The stench of damp fur and sweat clung to the air, making Melodie's stomach churn.

Her head ached, her limbs felt heavy, and the cold bite of metal against her throat sent a surge of anger through her veins.

She reached up, fingers brushing against the collar fastened around her neck.

No.

She yanked at it, but the clasp wouldn't budge. Her pulse quickened.

This wasn't just captivity—this was ownership.

The realization made her breath hitch, but she swallowed the rising panic. Not here. Not now.

Voices murmured around her. She turned her head, taking in the dozens of others crammed into the same stone-walled space.

Some were silent, heads bowed in resignation. Others whispered to one another in hushed tones.

A small figure appeared in front of her, clutching something wrapped in cloth.

A child.

She was young, maybe seven or eight, her dark eyes filled with something Melodie didn't see in the others—curiosity.

"Food," the girl murmured, pushing the bundle toward her.

Melodie hesitated, but her stomach twisted in hunger. She unwrapped the cloth to find bread and dried meat.

"Where did you get this?"

The girl just shrugged, sitting beside her.

Melodie studied her more closely. Her skin was tan, nowhere near as dark as Melodie's, but still darker than the pale-skinned captors.

She had never seen anyone who looked like her since arriving in this place.

"What's your name?"

The girl shrugged again. "No name."

Melodie frowned. "You don't have a name?"

A small shake of her head.

Something tightened in Melodie's chest.

"Can I give you one?"

The girl hesitated, then nodded.

Melodie thought for a moment.

"Lilly," she decided.

The girl's eyes brightened. "Lilly," she repeated softly, like she was tasting the word for the first time.

Melodie smiled faintly and reached out, ruffling the girl's tangled hair.

And then—

The doors slammed open.

The prisoners were herded outside, the sun glaring down on them as they were led into a massive courtyard.

Melodie's stomach dropped at the sight before her.

A wooden platform. Chains. And people being dragged up one by one, displayed for bidders like livestock.

Her fingers curled into fists.

It was a human auction.

She had read about this in history books, seen the horrific accounts—but living it was something else entirely.

Her chest tightened as she scanned the crowd. The bidders were not human—at least, not entirely.

And then she noticed something even stranger.

No one looked like her.

Her dark skin stood out like an ink blot against parchment. The others—Canariae, as they were called—were lighter, smaller, weaker.

Melodie was different.

Rare.

And in a world like this? Rare was dangerous.

A guard grabbed her wrist, dragging her forward.

She acted on instinct.

A sharp twist—and the guard lost his balance.

Gasps rippled through the crowd as Melodie snatched the rope from his hand and used it like a whip, cracking it against another approaching guard.

Another came at her—she ducked, swung her elbow into his gut, and twisted the rope around his throat.

Chaos erupted.

The bidders shouted. The guards scrambled.

And then—

A booming command cut through the commotion.

The soldiers froze.

The crowd parted.

And standing at the front of the platform was Luko… and that albino beast.

The beast's beige eyes burned as he approached, his expression unreadable.

Melodie's heart pounded, her breath ragged from the struggle.

Without hesitation, he cut the rope from the guard's throat, then—

He picked her up.

Like she weighed nothing.

She thrashed. "PUT ME DOWN, YOU BASTARD!"

The warlord ignored her.

She drove her knee toward his ribs, but his grip didn't loosen.

She was nothing to him.

A captured wild thing.

The crowd murmured, some intrigued, others amused.

Melodie was too busy seething to care.

Luko rushed over, speaking quickly in their language.

Whatever he said made the warlord's expression darken.

Then, without another word, he strode off, carrying her through a maze of corridors.

Melodie memorized every turn, every doorway, every possible escape route.

"Where are you taking me?" she demanded.

Silence.

He didn't even glance at her.

Typical.

Eventually, they arrived at a large, rounded room.

A study—lined with books, maps, and weapons.

Then dumping her onto a stool.

She glared at him, refusing to show fear.

He stared back.

The tension stretched, thick as smoke.

Then—to her utter shock—he laughed.

A soft, low chuckle, followed by a muttered phrase in his language.

Probably an insult.

She gritted her teeth. "Go to hell, you ugly gorilla."

He didn't understand her words.

But from the way his light eyes stormed, he understood the intent.

Good.

Because she was never going to bow.

Not to him.

Not to anyone.

Ten minutes passed in silence.

The silver haired one sat at a grand wooden desk, idly smoking a thin, unfamiliar pipe, his golden eyes fixed on her like a predator watching prey.

Melodie sat stiffly across from him, the weight of his gaze pressing against her skin like an iron brand.

She shifted.

A sharp sound of disapproval escaped him.

She stilled.

Fine. So, I'm supposed to sit here and do nothing?

She clenched her fists in frustration. I hate waiting.

Minutes dragged into what felt like hours before the heavy wooden door creaked open.

Luko entered, walking with an air of familiarity that Melodie instantly disliked. He moved over to the pale ogre, speaking in their strange, clipped tongue. He gestured toward her.

His's jaw tightened. His lips pressed into a thin line.

Great. He hates me.

Luko turned his attention to her, his expression unreadable.

"You were not supposed to be for sale," he said bluntly.

Melodie scoffed, leaning back in the stiff wooden chair. No shit.

"Yeah, I figured that out when that Big Ape over there almost strangled someone," she snapped.

Luko blinked, clearly caught off guard. Then, suddenly, he laughed—a full, genuine laugh that made his shoulders shake.

Melodie frowned. What the hell was so funny?

"No one has ever regarded The Silver Fox as a Big Ape," Luko wheezed between chuckles.

Her gaze flickered toward The Ape she hated so much.

The moment their eyes met, a slow, heavy tension settled in the room.

His expression remained perfectly neutral—cold, calculating—but his wheaten colored eyes had darkened to a deep, molten amber.

So. He doesn't like being mocked.

Good.

She held his gaze for a moment longer before turning away, a quiet victory settling in her chest.

Let him be pissed.

She wasn't here to entertain them.

She was here to survive.

And one way or another—

She was getting out.

She had a thousand questions, but no real answers.

Melodie sat stiffly in the wooden chair, every muscle in her body tense as she endured the heavy silence between herself and the two men in the room.

Across from her, the ape leaned back in his chair, skin colored eyes locked onto her, expression stoic. His fingers tapped idly against the armrest, his presence suffocating in its intensity.

Luko, standing beside him, wore an amused smirk.

She clenched her fists.

"I just want to know what's happening to me," she snapped, her voice sharp with frustration. "Where am I? Who are you people? I've never seen elves before—this is so messed up… I can't believe I'm awake. I must be in a coma!"

The words tumbled out in a frantic rush.

Luko's smirk faltered. He must have sensed the panic creeping in, because for once, he actually gave her an answer.

"You are in the Ulvareth Territory, in the Kingdom that borders the Imperial Country of Ilyndor," he said smoothly. "And the 'big ape' sitting over there is a highly regarded Commander from The North and cousin to the King of Ilyndor."

Melodie barely processed that before blurting, "How did I—no, how did we get here?"

Luko tilted his head. "We?"

"Yes, we. Us. The humans."

At that, Luko's expression shifted. His gaze sharpened as if she had just said something profoundly idiotic. Then, he gave a slow nod.

"Ahh. Your kind. The Canariae."

Melodie bristled. "We are called humans, not whatever you just said."

Luko waved a dismissive hand. "Here, they are Canariae. You are female Canariae."

Her jaw clenched.

"Stop calling me that."

Luko didn't respond. Instead, he walked to a nearby shelf, retrieving something.

She took the opportunity to study him—

The way he carried himself, the ease in his movements, the slight tilt of his head when he spoke. Luko had a dangerous sort of charm, the kind that made her uneasy. He reminded her of a snake, watching with detached amusement, waiting to strike.

He returned with a cloth and disinfectant, reaching for her temple.

She tensed.

"Hold still," he murmured as he pressed the cloth to her wound.

Melodie winced at the sting but didn't pull away.

Then, without warning, Luko turned to the one named Malec and spoke in their language.

Malec listened, his expression never changing, his gaze flicking briefly toward her before returning to Luko.

They were talking about her.

She didn't like that.

Not one bit.

Minutes later, Luko left and returned with another Awyan woman.

She was short but solid, her silver-gray hair cropped just above her shoulders, her posture rigid with authority. The way she carried herself told Melodie that she feared no one in this room.

Her sharp gaze landed on her.

Then—without hesitation—she grabbed her arm.

Melodie reacted instantly.

Her fist slammed into the woman's face.

A sickening crack filled the air.

The woman stumbled back, blood streaming between her fingers as she clutched her nose.

"CEIZO!" she shouted in that foreign tongue, her voice laced with fury.

Chaos erupted.

The woman lunged for her, snarling.

Luko grabbed her just in time, restraining her as she thrashed and screamed.

Malec was on her instantly.

His hand clamped around her wrist, twisting it behind her back with painful precision.

"What are you doing?!" Melodie snarled, struggling against his grip.

He didn't answer.

Didn't even flinch.

Luko, still restraining the furious woman, exchanged a tense look with Malec before shoving the woman toward the door. He said something firm, commanding.

After a long pause, the woman stormed out.

The door slammed shut behind her.

A heavy silence filled the room.

Malec finally released her, but not before giving her one last warning squeeze.

She ripped her arm away, glaring at him.

Luko exhaled heavily, rubbing his temples.

"He does not speak Canariae," he muttered.

Melodie glared. "Then why the hell does he keep staring at me like I'm supposed to understand him?"

Luko rolled his eyes. "Because no high-ranking, self-respecting Awyan would speak your tongue. It is beneath them."

Melodie's lips curled. "Yet you speak it. Who did you piss off?"

Luko stilled.

For a moment, his smirk vanished. Something dark flickered in his expression.

Then—he threw the bloody cloth in her face and stormed out.

Melodie peeled the cloth off, barely blinking.

Now she was alone.

Alone with him.

She turned slowly.

Malec stood completely still, watching her.

His tan calculating eyes were unreadable, locked onto her like a hawk sizing up prey.

She held his gaze.

She would not be intimidated.

Even though her wrists ached from his grip. Even though she knew he could break her in half if he wanted to.

She straightened her back and lifted her chin.

"What? You just gonna stare at me all day?"

He didn't react.

He just… kept watching.

Like he was waiting.

Like he was trying to decide something.

And for the first time, she wondered—

What the hell does he actually want from her?