Page 9 of Sold to the Nalgar
She wiped the last tear from her cheek, her resolve hardening.
No.
She remained in the bed.
Still. Silent. Curled beneath the blanket as if it could shield her from everything beyond this room, this alien reality.
She didn't move. Didn't touch the food. Didn't drink.
Let them wait. Let them watch. She wasn't going to make this easy for them.
Time blurred, losing all meaning in the unchanging environment. There were no clocks, no sunrise or sunset, no shift in the artificial lighting. The food had long gone cold, the tantalizing aroma fading into a stale memory. Her throat ached with thirst. Her stomach felt hollow, a gnawing emptiness that threatened to consume her.
But she stayed put, her will a stubborn flame in the face of despair. Because it was the only thing she could control.
Then—a soft hiss.
Her heart leaped into her throat, a frantic bird trapped in her chest.
The wall across from her began to dissolve, the seamless metal folding back like melted wax.
She scrambled upright, clutching the blanket tightly.
A figure stepped through the opening.
It was…not what she expected.
Shorter than her, barely reaching her chest. But wide, incredibly wide. Solid. Its body appeared to be carved from stone and brute force, the thick, muscular limbs swinging at its sides with slow, deliberate weight. Its skin, a vibrant shade of green, gleamed wetly in the room's soft light, like polished jade coated in oil. Blunt fingers ended in thick, claw-like tips. Its head was squat and thick-necked, almost nonexistent. And its eyes…
They were completely black.
No whites. No irises. Just reflective pools of ink, absorbing the light and reflecting nothing.
No emotion. No recognition.
Just the cold, flat stare of something that didn't need to pretend to care.
Cecilia froze, every muscle locking in place.
It was undeniably alien. Unquestionably so.
One of them.
One of the creatures that had abducted her.
She recoiled instinctively, pulling the blanket tighter around herself as if it could somehow protect her from whatever this thing was. Her pulse roared in her ears, drowning out all other sounds.
The creature—her captor—raised one thick hand.
Resting on its massive green palm was a stone. Small, flat, smooth, like a river stone, but silver, faintly glowing at the edges with an ethereal light.
She didn't have time to wonder what it was.
Then it spoke.
Its guttural, grinding voice rumbled from deep within its chest, the sounds harsh and alien. But overlaid, as if piped through invisible speakers, came a second voice.
Perfect English. Neutral, almost soothing in its artificial clarity.
