I, the slave boy, awaken with the most potent seed!!

The path Cassandra and Matilda chose was quiet compared to the bustling side of the market. The other side, they knew, was too crowded—too full of prying eyes that might recognize Matilda or, worse, someone loyal to Raxus.

Here, on this less-traveled path, people moved with purpose, heads low, their business their only concern.

Both women kept their voices hushed, their eyes scanning the surroundings with every step. The air smelled of dust and faintly of spices, and the soft murmur of transactions reached their ears as they approached the heart of the Exchange Yard.

Matilda led the way, her movements precise and unhurried. She knew this place well, every twist and turn ingrained in her memory.

Cassandra followed closely, her senses on high alert. Her hand stayed near her concealed weapon, and her mind raced with contingency plans. 'If things go south, I'll grab Matilda, find cover, and move towards the alley. Worst case, fight our way out.'

"Stay close," Matilda whispered over her shoulder. Her voice was calm but firm. "We're almost there."

Cassandra nodded, her hood pulled low to obscure her face. She wasn't nervous—she rarely let herself feel that way—but the tension in the air made her grip tighten around the hidden pouch of units in her hand.

Finally, Matilda stopped near a small, worn door tucked between two stacks of crates. She pressed herself against the wall, peering through the opening. After a moment, she turned back to Cassandra and gestured inside.

"There," Matilda murmured, pointing towards a vendor at the far side of the space. The stall was modest but well-stocked, with sacks of grain, dried fruits, and other preserved goods neatly arranged. The vendor, an older man with a sharp, calculating look, was engrossed in weighing a bundle of herbs for a customer.

"That's where I usually get supplies," Matilda explained, her voice barely audible. "I can't go in. He's seen me too many times. You're new here—less likely to draw attention."

Cassandra frowned slightly but nodded. "Fine. How much do we need?"

"Enough to last a few more days at least," Matilda said, glancing over her shoulder nervously. "Take these units. Be quick, but don't rush. Act natural."

Cassandra took the pouch, her expression neutral despite the subtle tension building in her chest. She pulled her hood lower, stepping into the market with her head bowed just enough to avoid direct eye contact.

---

The vendor looked up as Cassandra approached, his eyes briefly scanning her before he resumed sorting the goods on his table. "What'll it be?" he asked gruffly.

Cassandra kept her tone steady and her movements measured. "I need some grain, dried meat, and vegetables," she said, handing him the pouch. "Enough for a few days."

The man nodded, scooping the units from the pouch and beginning to gather her order. Cassandra stood silently, her head slightly tilted to the side as she watched the other people in the market. Her eyes were alert, scanning for anything unusual.

Just as the vendor was finishing up, a loud siren tore through the air, its wailing sound sending a ripple of unease through the market. Cassandra's posture stiffened as her gaze snapped to the source of the noise. She caught sight of the vendor hissing under his breath.

"They're here again," he muttered, shaking his head in frustration.

Cassandra's heart rate spiked, though she forced her expression to remain calm. 'Who's "they"?' she thought, but she knew better than to ask. Asking too many questions in a place like this was a surefire way to draw suspicion.

"Here." The vendor shoved a sack of supplies into her hands, his demeanor hurried and anxious. "Take it and go."

Cassandra nodded, murmuring a quick "Thank you," before turning to leave. Her steps were brisk but not rushed, her head lowered to avoid drawing attention. The weight of the supplies in her hands felt heavy, but not nearly as heavy as the tension thickening the air around her.

---

As she approached the door she had entered from, a booming voice echoed through the market, amplified by a loudspeaker.

"No one moves a muscle! Anyone caught running will regret it."

Cassandra froze mid-step, her blood running cold. The announcement reverberated through the space, and she realized it wasn't the first time the warning had been issued.

The rest of the market's patrons were already standing perfectly still, their postures rigid and their faces grim. Only Cassandra had been moving—until now.

She quickly stopped, lowering her head even further and gripping the sack tightly. 'Stay calm,' she told herself. 'You're just another face in the crowd.'

A small vehicle rolled into view, flanked by eight armed men on foot. Their clothes were rough, their weapons gleaming in the harsh light of the market. Cassandra's stomach twisted as she recognized the symbol of authority emblazoned on their chests. Raxus's men.

The two men from the vehicle stepped down, their movements slow and deliberate, exuding an air of authority. One of them, a burly figure with a scar across his face, barked orders to the others.

"Spread out. We're looking for Matilda and Zafron, as usual. Anyone with information speaks up now, or you'll answer for it later."

A murmur of fear rippled through the market, but no one spoke. The men began moving from stall to stall, interrogating vendors and customers alike. Cassandra's heart pounded as she watched them approach, their questions sharp and threatening.

"If you know anything, you might just earn yourself a breath of fresh air in Raxus's house," one of the men sneered at a trembling vendor.

Cassandra's mind raced. 'They're looking for Matilda and Zafron. If they recognize me, it's over.' Her grip on the sack tightened, her eyes scanning the area for a way out.

---

As the men drew closer, Cassandra's breath caught in her throat. She recognized one of them—the same man who had followed her and Mara days ago. Her pulse quickened. 'If he sees me, he'll know. I need to move now.'

Her eyes darted to a precariously stacked pile of crates and metal scraps near the edge of the market. It was slightly unbalanced, swaying faintly in the wind. 'That could work,' she thought. 'I just need a distraction.'

Cassandra crouched slightly, her movements subtle as she reached down and picked up a small stone from the ground. She took a deep breath, aiming for the base of the pile, and threw the stone.

It missed.

Her jaw clenched as panic threatened to overwhelm her. The men were getting closer, their voices louder, their eyes scanning the crowd. She grabbed another stone, her fingers trembling slightly. 'Focus,' she told herself. She threw it again.

This time, the stone struck its mark. The pile wobbled before collapsing with a loud crash, the sound reverberating through the market. Several heads turned towards the commotion, including the men from Raxus's group.

"What was that?" the leader barked, his eyes narrowing. "Check it out. Now!"

Nearly all the armed men ran towards the source of the noise, their weapons at the ready. The leader shouted after them, his voice echoing across the market. "Don't let anyone slip past! It might be them!"

Cassandra seized the moment. She kept her head low, moving quickly but carefully towards the door. Her heart hammered in her chest as she slipped through the opening, her breaths shallow and quick.

The dimly lit hallway beyond was empty, but something was wrong. Matilda wasn't there.

Cassandra froze, her eyes scanning the space. 'Where is she?' she thought, panic creeping into her chest. 'Did she run? Did she get caught?'

She set the sack down gently, her mind racing as she tried to piece together what could have happened. The silence of the hallway pressed in around her, heavy and oppressive.

"Matilda," she whispered, her voice barely audible. But there was no response.

Cassandra clenched her fists, her jaw tightening. 'She wouldn't just leave. Something must've happened.' Her sharp eyes flicked towards the far end of the hallway, where shadows loomed ominously.

Despite the uncertainty, one thing was clear—she couldn't stay here long. The men from Raxus's group were still out there, and the risk of being discovered was growing with every passing second.

'Matilda, where are you?'