The Black Market was nothing like Blake expected.
It wasn't hidden in shadow or buried underground—it was out in the open, veiled only by the dense mist of the western woods. Makeshift stalls formed a crooked maze, lit by lanterns that cast flickering light onto strange goods: crystal shards that whispered secrets, weapons humming with cursed energy, and jars filled with things that should never have been bottled. Voices called out from every corner—raspy, desperate, hungry for coin.
Blake stayed close to Malrek, eyes sharp, hand always near his dagger. The people here weren't like those in the cities. They were raw, dangerous, and desperate. Everyone had a secret, and most of them were for sale.
After haggling with a toothless alchemist, they spent most of their remaining coin on rare potions—thick liquids in glass vials sealed with wax. These were ingredients for the elixirs Blake would soon craft using the phoenix blood and feathers he'd bled for.
They turned to leave.
But Blake froze.
In a dimly lit corner of the market, half-shielded by an old cloth drape, he saw them—five girls, no older than ten. They were bound at the wrists, seated on the cold stone floor, heads bowed. Dirt smeared their faces, and bruises marred their skin. But what caught Blake's attention were their eyes.
Blue. Every single one of them.
He felt his chest tighten."Malrek…" he said, barely more than a whisper. "Why are they tied up?"
Malrek turned, followed his gaze, and grimaced."Slaves."
Blake's hands clenched. "But… they're just children."
"Deviants," Malrek replied, his voice low and hard. "That's what happens when you're born with blue eyes and no way to defend yourself."
Blake's voice rose slightly. "You mean they're like us?"
Malrek nodded. "Exactly like us. Unclaimed, unprotected. If I hadn't found you in that cave…" he trailed off, but the implication hit Blake like a punch to the gut.
He turned back to the girls, rage boiling in his chest."We can't just leave them here."
Malrek shook his head."This place doesn't forgive heroes, Blake. We start something here, we won't make it out alive. We're not strong enough. Not yet."
Blake's jaw tightened. His whole body screamed at him to do something. But he knew Malrek was right. He looked into the frightened eyes of those girls—and silently made a vow.
Someday.
As they neared the exit, a group blocked their path.
A tall, richly dressed old man stepped forward, flanked by guards. His cloak bore the sigil of House Ardent—a noble house from the southern coast, known for their disdain of deviants. Beside him stood a girl about Blake's age, her golden hair tied back in a neat braid. Her silver eyes flicked between Malrek and Blake with curiosity.
The old man sneered."You. You smell like forest rot and failure. What business do mongrels have here?"
Malrek's stance didn't change, but Blake could feel tension ripple off him like heat."We came for potions. We're leaving."
"No one leaves without my permission." The man waved a hand lazily, and the guards stepped forward.
The girl beside him spoke, her voice cool and firm."Let them go, grandfather. They're not worth the trouble."
The man scowled, but relented with a scoff. "Consider yourself lucky, filth."
Blake's eyes met the girl's for a moment. Something flickered there—not pity, not fear. Curiosity? Recognition?
Then they were past them, slipping into the woods once more. The air outside felt cleaner, but heavier.
Blake didn't speak for a long time.
Malrek finally broke the silence."You did good, Blake. You held yourself back."
Blake looked at him, his voice cold and steady."Next time, I won't."
They walked in silence, side by side, heading not just to Malrek's home, but toward the beginning of something far greater.
Blake had seen the world now—seen its rot and cruelty—and he was done being a victim of it.
___________________________________________________________
The journey through the forest took two days. Malrek moved with practiced ease, cloak trailing behind him like a shadow. Blake followed, quiet but observant. Though the road was long, the silence between them no longer felt heavy. They shared the kind of bond born from blood, pain, and shared purpose.
When the mansion appeared between the trees, Blake stopped in his tracks.
It wasn't what he'd expected.
A large manor stood before them, built from aged stone and wrapped in ivy. Tall windows glinted under the setting sun, and a small iron gate creaked open with a soft push from Malrek. Blake raised an eyebrow."This is your home?"
Malrek smirked beneath the mask."Not mine. Belongs to the Brotherhood."
Blake turned to him. "Brotherhood?"
"A group of deviants and outcasts like us. We go by many names... but here, we're the Black Halo."
He stepped forward and knocked twice on the wooden door.It creaked open slowly, revealing a mountain of a man. He stood nearly a head taller than Blake, broad-shouldered, with arms like tree trunks. His short brown hair was a little unkempt, and his sharp jawline made him look more like a warrior than a doorman. His piercing blue eyes flicked to Blake, narrowing slightly.
Blake stiffened, subtly shifting his stance.
Then the man grinned."Well, I'll be damned... You're back."His voice was warm and deep, like the rumble of thunder behind a smile.
Malrek nodded. "Miss me, Tonza?"
Tonza chuckled and opened the door wider."Like a rash I couldn't scratch. Get in here, freak."
Blake blinked, startled by the sudden shift in tone. He relaxed just a little.
Behind Tonza, more people began to appear in the doorway—faces full of curiosity and joy. Every one of them bore blue eyes. Deviants.
Blake felt like he'd stepped into another world.
But it was one face that caught his attention.
A girl stood just behind the others, maybe his age or slightly younger. She had short, raven-black hair that curled slightly at the ends, and a calm, distant expression. What drew Blake in were her eyes—one deep brown, the other a striking blue.
She didn't say anything, only met Blake's gaze for a moment before looking away.
"Come on," Tonza said, waving them in. "You've got stories to tell."
They entered a wide foyer with high ceilings and intricate wooden carvings. Candles flickered from the walls, casting golden light across polished floors. The smell of herbs, dust, and something sweet hung in the air.
Malrek and Blake were led into a large dining hall where a long wooden table stretched across the room. Plates and mugs sat waiting. Malrek dropped into a seat with the comfort of someone returning home.
One of the Brotherhood members leaned in."We've sent for the boss. She'll want to meet the kid."
Blake tensed slightly. The boss? The way they said it, she sounded... important.
Minutes passed, the hum of light conversation in the background. Then, the door opened again.
Blake looked up—and time slowed for a heartbeat.
A woman entered. She wore a long dark coat, her black hair cascading past her shoulders in soft waves. Her presence was silent but commanding. She was beautiful, but not in a delicate way—hers was the beauty of blades and storms. Sharp, graceful, and cold.
Her gaze landed on Malrek and then shifted to Blake.
"So this is the boy."
Blake stood instinctively. "Blake."
She nodded once. "Lora. I lead the Brotherhood in this province."
Malrek gestured toward the table."He's not just any boy, Lora. Nine years ago, I found him chained in a cave. Left to rot like trash." He looked at Blake with something close to pride. "He survived. Trained harder than anyone I've known. And now he wants to join us."
Lora stepped closer."We don't just take in anyone, no matter how tragic their past is."
Blake met her gaze."I didn't come here to be pitied. I came because I want to fight. I want to protect the weak—people like me, who were left behind. People who are still chained."
Lora studied him, her eyes cold and analytical.
"Answer me this, Blake."She leaned on the table, fingers interlocked. "If you come across a slaver with a deviant child in chains—but you're outnumbered, outgunned, and helping them would risk your own life—what do you do?"
Blake didn't hesitate."I fight. Not because I'm sure I'll win... but because they deserve someone who tries."
Lora arched an eyebrow. "And if you die?"
"Then someone else will see it. Maybe they'll try too. Maybe enough of us trying... is what brings change."
The room fell quiet.
Then, with a calm breath, Blake finished:
"The world doesn't need more powerful people. It needs people strong enough to defy power. The difference between the strong and the weak isn't in muscle or magic. It's in will. The strong are those who refuse to watch others suffer. And I refuse to be a bystander ever again."
Lora leaned back slowly, something unreadable in her expression.Malrek let out a soft laugh under his breath."Told you he was something."
Lora finally smiled—a small, rare curve of the lips."Welcome to the Black Halo, Blake."
Blake sat on the edge of the bed, the mattress far softer than anything he'd slept on in years. The room was simple but clean—stone walls, a wooden floor, and a small window that let in a cool breeze from outside. For the first time in what felt like forever, he wasn't chained, bleeding, or running for his life.
Lora had shown him the room herself. "Someone will bring your sheets and blankets shortly," she'd said before leaving with Malrek. "Rest now. You've earned it."
Blake leaned back and stared at the ceiling, letting the silence wash over him. His mind spun with everything that had happened—the fight with Malrek, the Black Market, the strange nobles, and now… this mansion full of deviants. A place that felt more like a home than the one he'd been born into.
A knock on the door pulled him from his thoughts.
He sat up. "Come in."
The door creaked open, and to his surprise, it was the girl from earlier—the one with the mismatched eyes. Her short black hair framed her soft features, and though she stood shyly at the threshold, her presence was calming.
"Hi," Blake said, not hiding his curiosity. "Didn't expect to see you."
She gave a small smile, her voice gentle. "I brought your blankets... and I thought maybe you'd like someone to show you around."
He took the sheets from her hands. "Thanks... I'd like that."
"I'm Mirai, by the way," she added, brushing a lock of hair behind her ear. "You're Blake, right?"
He nodded, spreading the sheets on the bed. "Yeah. Give me a minute?"
She waited patiently at the door while he made the bed with quick, practiced hands. Once he was done, he followed her into the hall, and the two walked side by side down the corridors of the mansion.
The place was alive in its own quiet way—laughter echoing faintly from distant rooms, the smell of food cooking somewhere deep in the kitchen, and faint candlelight flickering on stone walls. Mirai showed him everything—the training rooms, the library, the armory.
Eventually, they stepped outside. The evening air was crisp and clean.
Behind the mansion, a sprawling backyard stretched into a modest farm. There were chickens pecking at the soil, goats munching lazily on grass, and a few horses in the stables. Rows of vegetables and herbs grew in neat lines. The sight caught Blake off guard.
"This place is… peaceful," he said, his voice quiet.
Mirai looked at him, a soft smile on her lips. "It's the only home I've ever known."
Blake took a breath, feeling something loosen in his chest. "I think… I could get used to this."
They walked back inside as the sky turned deep blue and stars began to appear overhead. Something in Blake's heart—long dormant—began to stir.
Hope.