Ash

Kairo woke with a thud. Chains bit into his wrists, cold and unyielding. The air smelled of smoke, wood, and unwashed bodies. Around him, a crowd moved in chaos, shouting and haggling.

Ash. That was his new name.

He spat. “Ash? N***a, I’m Kairo. Fuck this. Fuck all y’all.”

A merchant shoved a low-tier slave forward. “Move it, Ash! Stand for buyers!”

Kairo gritted his teeth. He scanned the crowd. Survival was the same as Chicago: stay alert, don’t get caught slippin’.

Then a heat surged through him. Anger, pain, betrayal—all fused into raw energy. A pulse of magic flared in his hands. Chains rattled. He flexed.

I ain’t stayin’ down. Not here, not anywhere.