Dawn was still a cold, damp blanket over the world when Carlos regained consciousness. The first sensation was a throbbing pain in his head, followed by the discovery that his hands were tightly bound with tough vines. He was being dragged by Jo?o's horse, his body scraping against the undergrowth. Up ahead, Tassi walked with her arms pinned by a living vine that seemed to constrict with every movement, followed closely by the ever-watchful Sebasti?o on his horse.

  On the horizon, under the canopy of a solitary tree, a campfire crackled. Around it, chained figures and slave catchers stood watch. When she saw the scene, a knot tightened in Tassi's stomach. "No... I thought at least a few had managed to escape..."

  Sebasti?o, though he couldn't see her face, perfectly imagined her expression. A satisfied smile spread across his cracked lips.

  "Thought these little niggers were gonna get away, huh? Hahaha!" his rough voice echoed in the dawn's silence. "You're clever for a black bitch... Sent everyone the other way! 'Course we'd go after you, you're worth more than this whole lot combined! But did you really think I'd send the whole crew? Just me and the kid here were enough to bag you!"

  Despite the fury and sorrow consuming her from within, Tassi kept her face impassive. She turned slowly, her gaze fixing on the exposed wound on Sebasti?o's brow—a deep cut where she could see the white bone beneath the torn flesh. Another cut, still bleeding, marked his cheek, and his hands were purple and swollen. Without uttering a word, her look said it all: the price of her capture had been high.

  Sebasti?o swallowed dryly, anger boiling in his chest, but he didn't retort. Her capture had, in fact, been harder than expected—from the initial chase, where she coordinated the group and pelted them with well-aimed stones, to the tactical separation and the fortuitous meeting with the slave in strange clothes.

  Soon, they joined the main group of captured slaves. All had their hands tied, guarded by three more slave catchers. These men, upon seeing Sebasti?o's state, exchanged curious looks, but none dared to question him. The important thing was that all the runaways were captured, and the reward would be paid at sunrise. Now, they could rest, taking turns on watch.

  Jo?ozinho dismounted and, with the help of another catcher, dumped Carlos's inert body on the ground. Sensing the mix of curiosity and apprehension in his men's eyes, Sebasti?o decided to explain.

  "This bastard here helped the bitch beat me," he announced, pointing a disdainful finger at Carlos. "But I caught 'em both and gave his skull a good knock to teach him a lesson. If he dies, great! If not, we sell him to the Master and the money will still make me plenty happy!"

  Tassi shot a glance at Carlos, and a pang of guilt mixed with her own pain. "You idiot... You could have run. I only tried to save you because I got you into this mess, but you didn't have to return the favor." Her eyes scanned his motionless body. "Please, don't die."

  ***

  The morning sun brought with it a throbbing pain that ripped Carlos from unconsciousness.

  "Ow, my head..."

  Instinctively, he tried to raise his hand to the source of the pain, but the vines binding his wrists stopped him. The reality of his situation hit him like a bucket of ice water.

  "I can't believe it... So it wasn't a nightmare. It was all real."

  His eyes, still blurry, scanned the surroundings. Around him, other figures lay bound, not with vines, but with rough ropes. Their clothes—or lack thereof—were rags of coarse cotton, loose pants, and torn shirts that barely covered thin, scarred bodies. They were, undeniably, slaves.

  "This can't be happening. I wanted a second chance, but not... not like this." He took a deep breath, fighting the panic. "I need to calm down. Maybe there's an explanation... No, given the treatment we're receiving... They don't see us as human." His mind raced to the woman. "And her, how is she?"

  Anxiously, he scanned the group with his eyes until he found her—the only woman, so it wasn't hard. A black and swollen eye marked her face, a silent testament to the violence she had suffered, but she was alive. Carlos felt a small wave of relief.

  "She's alive. Hurt, but alive."

  With effort, he managed to sit up. He saw the slave catchers eating and laughing around the remains of the campfire.

  "So, you are alive," Sebasti?o's voice cut through the air, laden with perverse humor. "What a shame... But at least I'll get a few coins to buy some good cacha?a. Could be worse!"

  Carlos turned his head slowly. Sebasti?o's face, marked by the cuts and bruises he himself had helped inflict, filled him with a feeling of impotent rage. His gaze must have betrayed his hatred, because the slave catcher let out a low laugh.

  "Keep staring at me like that, and I'll make you disappear instead of buying cacha?a."

  This story has been unlawfully obtained without the author's consent. Report any appearances on Amazon.

  The threat was clear. Carlos lowered his eyes, the rage giving way to a profound despair. "What's going to happen to me? Am I going to become a real slave...?"

  Sebasti?o seemed to delight in the submission. "That's what I like to see," he said, standing up and stretching. "I'm even excited to get my payment for you now."

  He then yelled at the group: "Wake up, you runaway niggers! Time to get back to the stocks and get your whipping! I thought about letting you sleep while I ate my breakfast, but better to be rid of you now. I'm in the mood to fuck whores and drink cacha?a in town!"

  Driven by his shouts, the slaves began to rise—fourteen in total, including Carlos. His body ached, and the night on the hard ground had given him deep dark circles and a fatigue that went beyond the physical.

  As he struggled to his feet, his mind tried to process the situation.

  "Colonial or Imperial Brazil? They speak Portuguese, but not archaic... A backwoods accent, but understandable. And the magic... That fire bow, those living vines... There's no other explanation."

  "I ended up in another world, but not the heroic fantasy I imagined. I won't be the hero who defeats the Demon King with secret powers and a beautiful elf by my side. I fell into a world that might be worse than my own."

  As he got lost in his thoughts, the group began to move. Under Sebasti?o's watchful eye, Carlos fell in line and started walking.

  Tassi, one of the last to get up, watched the man in the strange clothes. A conflicted feeling of guilt and gratitude rose in her chest. "He's alive. What a relief... But his capture is my responsibility. I hope I can repay him somehow, someday."

  The march continued. The five slave catchers, mounted, flanked the group, forming a mobile prison. Sebasti?o led from the front. A heavy silence hung over the slaves, broken only by the sound of dragging feet and the creak of saddles. Their fear of the catchers was palpable, but deeper still was the broken resignation of those who know a terrible punishment awaits.

  Carlos observed his fellow unfortunates. "They're all so thin... malnourished. And only one woman in the group. She's the one who warned me. If I had reacted faster... maybe... And she was captured for trying to help me."

  His gaze turned to the figure at the front. "He said we're going to an engenho. Colonial Brazil, then. Sugar, a plantation master, slave labor... That's all I remember from history class. The irony of fate: I went into STEM for a better life, and now my knowledge of humanities might be the only thing that can help me."

  After about an hour of walking, the sugar mill came into view. A free laborer, spotting the group, ran to inform the master. The slave catchers, relieved, headed for the shade of a tree to rest.

  Minutes later, the plantation master appeared. He was a white man in his forties, with a poorly kept graying beard and a smile that revealed a missing tooth. Behind him, younger, burlier men brandished whips with sinister familiarity.

  Sebasti?o and his men dismounted.

  "Good morning, Master Jorge!" the slave catcher announced with an exaggerated bow. "Brought back the thirteen rats that ran away, just like you asked." He gestured toward the slaves, stopping at Tassi. "And we caught the she-goat who put the idea in their heads. She's all in one piece, just like the day you bought her."

  The master, Jorge, scanned the captives with a look laden with hatred and contempt, lingering especially on Tassi. When he turned to Sebasti?o, his expression softened slightly.

  "You really are as good as they say. As agreed, it's thirty thousand réis per slave, and two hundred and forty thousand for her."

  Jorge signaled, and one of his overseers approached with a heavy bag of coins. It was then that his eyes fell on Carlos.

  "Wait a moment. There's an extra slave here."

  For a brief moment, a spark of hope illuminated Carlos's chest. But it was quickly extinguished.

  "Ah, I almost forgot!" Sebasti?o exclaimed with a gap-toothed smile. "We found another nobody lost in the woods. He's a bit worse for wear, but he's good for a few years of service!"

  Hearing this, Jorge smiled slightly, revealing his missing tooth. "Good, I really need another pair of hands. But I don't have extra money. I can pay in sugar or cacha?a, if you want."

  "Sounds good, cacha?a it is!"

  As one overseer handed the bag of coins to Sebasti?o—who opened it eagerly to count its contents—another went to fetch the payment in cacha?a. A cart arrived, loaded with clay bottles. Sebasti?o counted two hundred and forty silver coins, each worth 2,500 réis—twice the annual salary of a free man. Satisfied, he shook Seu Jorge's hand.

  "This deal was great! If you need anything else, just call me." His voice lowered, conspiratorial. "But if I were you, Master, I'd finish off that bitch for good. She's nothing but trouble and will just make the others run away!"

  "Thank you for your concern, Sebasti?o. A less patient man would have already sent that bitch to her grave."

  "So why don't you, Master? A good nigger is a quiet nigger, and that one's nothing but trouble."

  "Trouble that's worth its weight in gold, my dear," the plantation master retorted, his eyes gleaming with calculated greed. "Do you know how much a slave who is adept at grass and earth gems is worth? Over three million réis. That's how much she earns me in sugar per year."

  Sebasti?o let out a low whistle, impressed. "Three million? For this black bitch?"

  "That's right. The seller didn't even suspect. I only found out because I spent a small fortune on items to test the aptitude of new slaves." His gaze returned to Tassi, cold and possessive. "The luck is that she's already given birth. I just have to put up with the mother until the whelp grows up and has enough mana to take her place."

  Now I understand why you paid a fortune for her! If I'd known she was worth that much, I'd have charged double!

  "Good thing your gamble paid off, Master. Good luck to you! Now I'm off, it's time for my drink!"

  The slave catchers mounted up and headed toward the city, their noise gradually fading away.

  As soon as they were gone, the plantation master ordered all the slaves—the runaways and those who had remained—to be taken to the whipping post, erected in front of the senzala. He ordered them to bring whips, an iron mask, and a branding iron, which was immediately placed in the coals of a newly lit fire to heat.

  Carlos watched the preparations, his blood running cold in his veins. "I don't need to be a historian to know what awaits us. I wish I could say I'll face this with courage, but I can't. I can't even imagine the pain of a single lash, let alone what's coming next."