Tia held her breath as she eased the wooden door open.

It was quiet, except for the sound of Mommu dragging his broom across the stone floor in the kitchen. She carefully leant her own broom against the wall, and then paused again. Master's study was still silent. Good.

She exhaled, her heart fluttering, and crept out of the doorway. Out of the kitchen, her eyes darted to the boy with his back to her, who was sweeping dutifully, and made to squeeze out of the main wooden door of the house. The heavy structure made no noise as she—

"Tia!"

She jumped, elbowing the frame, and hissed with pain. Her heart leapt to her throat. Mommu stared at her from across the room, horrified.

"If you're caught—"

She shook her head, barely suppressing her giggles. She needed to go; the urge was going to make her heart explode. With a cheeky grin, she waggled her fingers in farewell. The boy thumped his broom on the ground in exasperation, sending dust flying into the air.

"You'll be in so much trouble!" he said as she danced outside, one hand grabbing the cloak off its hook. Sweeping the material around her and pulling the heavy hood up, she spun on her toes, enjoying the pale blue cape lifting from her shoulders and swirling around, its black rim billowing. The wind rippled through her hair, and she loved the feeling of importance as the thick cloak settled around her shoulders again.

It was the time when Master would shut himself in his study for the whole day, scribing the monthly report for the king. For Tia, this was her opportune moment to escape their hilltop house, and she seized it without hesitation as she always had.

It's so fun, pretending to be a Windcaster, thought Tia, racing through the streets. Everyone treats me differently just because I'm wearing Master's clothes. They really think I'm a Windcaster!

It was true. Everywhere, traders, adults, and children alike were standing aside, giving way. Their mouths were open in awe as she skipped lightly through the marketplace, the cape flapping behind her and her leather boots making clipping noises on the stone-bricked floor. She took care to keep her hair out of sight and her face shielded.

Several merchants bowed down to her before they resumed their work — she fought to suppress her giggles — and then she paused, staring at the exotic merchandise, enthralled by shop owners as they advertised their wares and tried to appeal to passers-by.

"Finely woven with camel hairs..."

"Fought through fifty and four wars before it was passed down to my father..."

"Forged blades and ultimate shields for low prices..."

The gilded equipments gleamed in the warm sunlight and the ancient tomes promised endless secrets. There were so many mysterious items from faraway lands for sale, tantalising in their beauty. Tia wanted them all. With a sigh, she turned her head to the other side and spotted an auction. She secured the hood over her head. Filled with curiosity, she slowed her progress, her eyes falling on the man with the mallet. He hammered, having just finished the previous sale.

The next object turned out to be a person. Auctioning humans? She frowned. She spotted the rusted irons clapped around the person's wrists. Behind him, there were at least four other men, all chained together. Slaves.

She had never seen something like this before; slave auctionings were infrequent, reflecting Mooncliffe's small slave population. She watched with morbid interest.

"Young, strong boy! Starting price is thirteen silver pieces!" hollered the sweaty, obese man, waving his hammer. "Fourteen! Fifteen!" Other people raised their hands. The boy appeared only a few years older than Tia herself, and was standing hunched. His face was peppered with cuts and bruises and he stood listlessly. On his right wrist was a vicious burn mark with the emblem of Dernexes, a sign that he belonged to the kingdom.

"Did you hear? The carrier-seller tried to harbour one of these slaves. Said he felt sorry for them," whispered a spectator nearby.

"How foolish!" his companion exclaimed. "He will be put to death if he is found out!"

"He already has."

Tia shivered at those words. A bang of the hammer drew her attention back to the auction.

The boy was sold, no doubt to a terrible life. She had heard the rumours, but had never seen a slave before — nor did she really want to. They said slaves were dangerous. They said slaves needed a master, or they would run wild and kill and steal. They said slaves were not human, and deserved no rights. They said slaves deserved all the hard work and difficult conditions. Despite all the warnings and no matter how she looked at the boy with the downcast eyes and sluggish movements, he looked just like a regular street urchin. To her, he was as human as anybody wandering the streets of Mooncliffe. He was no different to her.

And if a Dernexan expressed sympathy for the slaves, his life would be at stake? Surely not!    

It was easy to just accept the rumours about the slaves, but having seen one of them, living, breathing, walking; suddenly the reality of the situation hit home. Tia walked on, perturbed and embarrassed by all the attention as people still bowed to her. She hurried on. The sweaty man's yells disappeared as she wandered further.

She skipped her way down the cobbled steps to the harbour, where there were more tradesmen and workers than citizens. Mooncliffe, the City by the Sea, was a colourful place. Lush green trees grew between houses with tiled roofs and archways were painted red and gold, the national colours. She leaned against the pillars that decorated the city, listening to the buzz of city life.  During the night one could see the ships sailing in, their lanterns dancing like fireflies against the dark ocean. It was a thriving city, famed for its import and export and trades. In front of her stretched the open ocean as far as the eyes could see: glittering field of sapphire in the warm sun, with trading ships sailing in and out of the harbour. As she meandered ahead, the shouts of workmen reached her ears.

Tired from the attention, Tia spun on the tips of her toes, breathing in the delicious sea air before sitting on the edge of a water fountain: a smaller version of the one in the city centre. Magnificent statues of a pair of young siblings stood in the centre of the fountain. One was taller and had long, waist-length hair and a serene expression. Her brother clung to her waist, with a similar smile on his face. They were Princess Agasaya and Prince Ashur, the children of the king of Dernexes. They were beautiful, their perfect features inherited from Lady Ishtar, who was renowned for her doll-like looks.

There was a similar statue of King Ea of Dernexes in the centre of the larger fountain in the city centre. Tia wondered what it was like to be in the royal family, to live in such privilege, to hold the whole country in the palms of their hands, and be even more respected than the Windcasters.

She swung her feet to and fro, humming under her breath. Her eyes were half-closed in the warmth. Shouts from behind her, in the direction of the city centre, reached her sensitive ears, getting nearer. Before she could ascertain the source, there was a rustling from the bushes. She turned with curiosity, pursing her lips.

A boy tumbled out from the thickets, behind which was a fifty-metre high stone wall. He appeared to have lost his balance — or was lunging for her. Either way, with the Master's valuable cloak on her back, Tia wasn't taking any chances. She jumped to her feet and swerved out of his way, and then shot out both hands up to grab his wrists, aiming to take him down as she had always done with Mommu whenever they got into a fight.

Before she made contact, a blow came out of nowhere and knocked her off her feet.

Stars exploding in her eyes and pain searing across her head, Tia crumpled to the floor.

The Master's cloak—! A strong arm yanked her up by her elbow, sending pain shooting up to her shoulders. She couldn't see who her assailant was, for her hood obscured her view. Her right cheek throbbed. A second arm snaked around her neck and squeezed, crushing her windpipe. She gurgled, eyes darting around in a panic. Her feet kicked out uselessly at the ground.

The king's guards made their way down the steps she had descended several minutes before. They had their weapons drawn; the blades gleamed in the sunlight, along with the metallic decorations on their red and gold uniforms. They hesitated as they noticed the shimmering light blue cloak on her shoulders.

She could hear hisses of anger coming from either side of her. She would guess that there were three or four others around her, including the spindly boy who had distracted her earlier. He stood just in front of her to her left. The man behind her was about to asphyxiate her completely, unrelenting in his grip. She pawed at his muscles. Her vision was going red and the blood pounded at her temples as her ears started to ring. Tears welled up in her green eyes.

"One more step, and I kill the Windcaster!" spat the assailant. She stared down at the thick, sinewy arm, with its bulging veins. There was a vicious scar on the inside of the wrist. Her stomach dropped.

Slaves.

A/N:  This will be the only author note until the end of the story. Thank you so much for reading! Please remember to vote for the chapters you liked — it'll mean a lot to me as a writer — and leave a comment about what you think. Fan cover by the amazing seventhstar.