The archway behind them dissolved like smoke, leaving only the hum of the crowd to fill the air. Camdyn, Flora, and Saelune stepped forward, swallowed by a labyrinth of twisting alleys and shadowed stalls.

  Lanterns dangled overhead, their flames burning an unnatural green that bathed the walls in a ghostly glow. Shadows stretched and recoiled with every flicker, darting away before you could get a proper look. The cobblestones beneath their feet were slick with grime and streaked with faded stains that spoke of past deals gone sideways.

  Vendors leaned close behind rickety booths piled high with dubious wares: cracked vials filled with sickly glowing liquids, twisted bone trinkets, and bundles of herbs that smelled bitter and sharp. The murmurs of whispered bargains, sharp laughter, and sudden silences threaded through the air.

  A cloaked figure with tusks jutting from its lower jaw spat into the dirt as they passed. Nearby, a pair of creatures with ink?black eyes, the size of children, darted between stalls, quick fingers brushing against coin purses before vanishing into the crowd. One stall reeked of brine, its keeper a frog?skinned being hawking jars of wriggling shadows that twitched as if alive.

  Strangers passed with eyes quick to judge, hands never far from hidden knives or strange charms. The scent of smoke, sweat, and stale ale mixed thickly, making every breath taste like danger.

  Somewhere in the distance, the low growl of a beast echoed, unanswered and menacing.

  Saelune moved with familiar ease, a grin tugging at her lips, while Flora’s gaze flickered nervously from shadow to shadow. Camdyn, at this point, had become all too aware of how alien he felt at this moment, feeling the clamminess of his grip on his pack.

  “Keep your head down and your belongings close,” Saelune murmured.

  He nodded, tugging his borrowed hood lower over his eyes.

  “And you—” Saelune turned to Flora. “Can you at least try to act like you belong here?”

  “If by belong you mean lowering myself to the level of these malfeasants,” she replied, voice low and edged. “I will not.”

  “Maybe start,” Saelune drawled, “by not calling the people we need help from malfeasants.”

  “Undesirables, then.”

  Saelune let out a long, theatrical sigh. “Fine. But at least fix your face. You look like you’re trying to burn the place down with sheer willpower.”

  Camdyn nudged Flora lightly. “Maybe they’re not all bad.” he offered a small grin. “Even ‘good’ people find themselves in less than ideal circumstances.”

  Flora gave him a skeptical eye.

  “I’d like to think there’s always an exception. I mean, we’re here and we’re not bad people, right? Maybe there’s others like us.”

  “Let us hope you are right.”

  “That’s the spirit.” Saelune said.

  They pressed deeper into the throng, the crowd thickening until shoulders brushed with every step. Camdyn kept his hood low, eyes darting over the strange wares glimmering faintly in the green firelight.

  As Flora shifted to avoid a cloaked figure, Camdyn stumbled into a vendor’s stall. Glass vials rattled. One teetered on the edge before Saelune’s hand shot out, snatching it mid?fall.

  The vendor, a hunched creature with eyes too big for his narrow face, hissed, showing yellowed teeth. “Clumsy little rat. You break, you pay. In blood if you’ve no coin.”

  Camdyn froze, pulse hammering.

  Saelune was quick to step between them. She flashed an easy smile. “Whooa, relax, guy. No harm done. Crowd’s tighter than a sardine can today.” She set the vial back in place with casual care. “Besides, he’s small prey, anyway. Hardly worth your time.”

  The vendor’s glare lingered, suspicion sharp, but her tone carried a kind of effortless confidence that left little room for argument. After a tense beat, he huffed through his nose and turned back to arranging his wares.

  “Appreciate your understanding,” Saelune said brightly, brushing Camdyn’s arm as she steered him forward. Her grin never faltered. “Let’s keep the confrontations to a minimum, yeah?”

  “No protests here.” Camdyn replied.

  His heart hadn’t quite settled by the time they slipped free of the vendor’s glare. The crowd closed around them, and they became one with the shuffle of footsteps once more.

  Saelune kept her pace steady, eyes scanning the rows of dimly lit stalls. “Almost there,” she mumbled. “Keep an eye out for a slimy guy with shifty eyes. He’ll be holed up in a tent.”

  “So like half the vendors.” Camdyn muttered.

  Stolen content warning: this tale belongs on Royal Road. Report any occurrences elsewhere.

  “There.” Flora’s voice was quiet but sharp. She nodded toward a stall tucked just beyond the main thoroughfare, draped in velvet black and hung with lanterns that flickered an eerie violet. The glow didn’t reach far, but what little it touched glinted off cluttered shelves of mismatched goods: rusted jewelry, cracked crystal, faded scrolls, and jars filled with things Camdyn couldn’t name.

  Behind the counter stood a tall, wiry figure who looked as if he hadn’t slept in a decade. His skin was pale and waxy, stretched a little too tight over sharp bones. His slitted eyes flicked from passerby to trinket to shadow in quick, nervous motions, never still for long. And when he spotted Saelune, he froze.

  “Wait here.” she instructed. “Slippery guys like these will make a run for it as soon as they feel cornered.”

  She approached with a wide smile. “Well, if it isn’t my old pal, Sylas. You devil.”

  “Saelune.” he recoiled slightly. He flicked a forked tongue at her guests. “And you bring interesting company.” He looked past her. “A nymph and a… Is that—”

  “Yes.” she cut in smoothly, “And I’d keep that to yourself.”

  “If the others find out—”

  “I’m hoping it doesn’t come to that, Sylas. Let’s keep this between friends, shall we?”

  “Friends,” he echoed, skepticism dripping from the word. Then, too quickly, “Yes, yes, of course. Very good. New friends bring new business.”

  He straightened, attempting dignity, though the twitch in his jaw betrayed him. “So. What is it you’re after today, Sirin? Trinkets? Cursed charms? Something rare and… questionably sourced?”

  “A Blade,” Saelune replied plainly. “More of a relic than anything else.”

  Sylas blinked rapidly, smile tightening. “Ah. Blades. Yes. Plenty of those. I’ve got seven at least. Very fine. Very sharp. High in demand, so, naturally, all sales are final.”

  Saelune picked up one of his jars and turned it over in her hands. “This wouldn’t be a blade you have, Sylas. Not that I even trust half the wares you peddle. At least, not fully.”

  Sylas’s smile faltered, a bead of sweat gleaming under the violet firelight. “Now, now, no need to smear my good name. I deal only in the finest goods. If a buyer feels a touch of remorse later, well, that’s hardly a reflection on quality, is it?”

  She arched a brow. “And the counterfeits?”

  His tongue flicked briefly across his lips. “A matter of perspective. Value, after all, is in the eye of the beholder. Does it truly matter where an item comes from, so long as it delivers what the buyer believes it will?”

  A flicker of amusement glinted in her eye. “You haven’t changed at all. Comforting, in a weird way.” She set the jar back on the counter. “Relaaax, I’m not here to sell you out. I’m here to pin down a rumor.”

  “A rumor…” Sylas’s eyes darted around before dropping his voice. “Yes, yes. I know many. But you mention a Blade. Perhaps… the Covenant Blade?”

  Saelune nodded. “Our half, not the humans’.”

  “I’ve heard a thing or two in my travels” he said carefully. “Question is… What’s it worth to you?”

  “Now, Sylas, let’s not be stingy.” Saelune leaned forward, resting an elbow on the edge of his stall. “Let’s just call it even. Especially since you still owe me from that last deal gone sideways.”

  He managed a nervous half?smile. “It was nothing personal.”

  “I took it pretty personally. Swindling a kid’s about as low as it gets. Even for you. I was practically a fledgling at the time.”

  Sylas’s throat bobbed as he swallowed. “That was ages ago. Ancient history. We’ve made nice since then. Friends, even… yes?”

  “Right.” Saelune’s smile widened just enough to make him squirm. “Which is exactly why you’re about to give me the friends?and?family discount.”

  He nodded reluctantly.

  “Great.” She chirped, tapping the counter with a talon. “So, the Covenant Blade. Cough up what you know.”

  The lizard?man leaned in, tongue flicking nervously, “Word is, it’s north. The Weeping Crown mountains. Follow the river and you’ll find the Serpent’s Veil.”

  “The waterfall?” she replied, unimpressed.

  “Behind the waterfall. Some say great treasure lies behind there.”

  “Some, huh.” Saelune’s eyes narrowed. “And who told you this?”

  He puffed up slightly, though his hands fidgeted on the counter. “Oh, reliable source. Very reliable. Fellow traveler. Owes me a debt, see. Swore on his own mother’s grave.” He hesitated, then added too quickly, “Not that she’s dead, of course. Lovely woman. Still breathing. What I meant was—if she were dead, he'd swear on it. Probably twice.”

  Saelune smirked. “Sylas.”

  He wilted under her look. “Point is—solid information. I wouldn’t lie to a friend.”

  “Don’t get cute with me.”

  She flicked a silver coin his way. He caught it with both hands like it might fly off.

  “Most generous, yes.”

  Saelune turned to leave. “And Sylas…”

  He’d already begun biting the coin, then holding it up to the dim light. “Hmm?”

  “If I find out you wronged me again, I will be coming back for that coin. Plus a little extra for my trouble.”