Book 6: At the Auction

Ella

By all accounts, the village we arrive in under a cloak of inky, starless darkness looks like a small town somewhere in my brother’s territory. Streetlights cast a wide, crumbling gravel street in muted light, and buildings made of wood and stone rise in the distance along curved roads. A narrow, lazy river winds through the village. We cross several bridges, our footsteps the only sound. Our group has been broken into smaller parties of three or four people, everyone in their human forms, everyone acting like they’re simply out on a midnight stroll.

As we walk further into the village, the buildings start to group closer together, and noise begins to cut through the hushed night air. There are no cars to be seen, but lighted signs and the sound of electricity buzz as we pass shops and what I believe are apartments.

It’s like home, but… different. Less polished, less refined. Less modern, I realize. I stare up at one streetlight as I pass bene