The market of Barcken should have been nothing more than a place of noise, colour, and smell—a jumble of merchants shouting over one another, spices perfuming the air, and cobblestones worn smooth by years of trade. Yet, beneath the din, there was a different pulse.
Luke felt it as soon as they stepped deeper into the maze of stalls. The space between the crowd seemed to narrow at odd moments, forcing him to brush past strangers whose eyes didn't quite match their casual demeanour. The glances were brief, but deliberate. Watching. Measuring.
It was no longer about buying fruit or fabric. Every movement became part of a larger, silent conversation—one he hadn't agreed to but was already playing. The clink of coins in a purse sounded like the ticking of a clock. The shuffle of boots on stone could have been the sliding of a chess piece.
