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The streets of the Cathedral District were anything but peaceful.
What had once been a sacred place—where pilgrims sought solace—was now a crumbling ruin. Broken stained glass littered the ground like forgotten prayers, and twisted scaffolding stretched toward the sky, where the moon hung low, far too close.
Silas walked beside Nyra, his heart pounding. The weight of his forgotten lives pressed against him, suffocating, but he pushed forward.
"Where are we headed?" he asked, trying to ignore the overwhelming weight of the dead city.
"The Dead Markets," Nyra replied, her voice low. "Where those who still deal in power live. But don't be fooled, Silas. You're not just buying weapons here. You're bargaining with the very things that shouldn't exist."
Silas frowned. "And I'm supposed to trust them?"
"You don't have a choice." Nyra glanced at him. "You've awakened something inside you—something ancient. And those who deal in Ash? They'll want it."
The air was thick with fog, and the streets were nearly deserted. Nyra led him through narrow alleys and hidden passages until they reached a large, iron gate. It seemed to pulse with energy, as if the gate itself was alive.
"This is it," she said. "The entrance."
The gate creaked open, revealing a sprawling marketplace filled with vendors hawking strange, glowing wares—shards of crystal, jars of liquid that seemed to move on their own, and weapons that pulsed with dark energy.
A low murmur of voices filled the air, the sound of deals being struck, of memories traded, and forgotten pasts being bought and sold.
"Stay close," Nyra warned. "The Dead Markets are dangerous. You'll see things you shouldn't. Hear things you can't unhear."
As they walked deeper into the market, Silas caught sight of a vendor with a booth stacked high with old books. His eyes narrowed as he noticed the titles—books that shouldn't exist.
"Those are forbidden," Nyra said, following his gaze. "The Forgotten Lore. If you read them, you risk losing yourself in the Veil."
"Who would risk that?"
"Desperation," she replied darkly. "Or curiosity."
They approached a stall covered with dark cloth, where an old woman with silver eyes sat hunched over a table. Her skin was cracked, like aged parchment, and her fingers twitched as she sorted through a pile of objects—gems, stones, and ancient relics.
"Looking for something, dear?" she rasped, her voice a dry whisper.
"I need a weapon," Silas said, trying to ignore the unsettling chill in the air.
"Hmm," the woman said, her eyes narrowing. "A weapon? A simple request... or is it?"
She gestured for them to come closer. As they did, Silas felt a cold draft, like something ancient and forgotten stirred in the air.
"This," the woman said, holding up a jagged dagger. The blade shimmered with a strange light, casting eerie shadows on the table. "This will kill anything... or anyone... without leaving a trace."
Silas's eyes flicked to Nyra. She shook her head. "We're not here for something like that."
The old woman laughed softly, her fingers dancing over the relics. "You're not fooling me, child. I see it in your eyes. You've already killed. And you'll kill again."
Silas clenched his jaw, but he didn't argue. She wasn't wrong.
Then the woman's gaze shifted to his hand, where the faint glow of his Ash was still visible.
She smiled.
"Ah, I see. You've awakened. The Veil has called you. You've been touched by what was never meant to be."
Nyra stepped forward. "We came for something that will help him fight. Not to barter with the dead."
The woman's smile widened. "And yet, you'll find nothing but death in these markets. The relics you seek? They don't exist anymore. But I can give you something that will help you... for a price."
"What price?" Nyra asked warily.
The old woman tilted her head. "A soul for a soul. What you hold in your hand—this Ash of yours—isn't just power. It's the very thing that can tear the Veil open. Do you truly understand the cost?"
Silas stepped back, his pulse racing. "I didn't ask for this."
"You never do," the woman said softly. "But here you are. And I have what you need."
The woman's hand moved to a box under her table, and with a slow, deliberate motion, she pulled out a silver coin. It shimmered with an otherworldly glow, etched with strange symbols that seemed to move on their own.
"This is what you need," she said, placing it in Silas's palm. "The Seal of the Veil. It will help you control your power. But it comes with a price."
"What price?" Silas asked again.
The woman's lips curled into a grin. "A debt to the Veil. You'll owe a favor. A single, small favor. And when the Veil comes calling... you'll have to answer."
Nyra's eyes widened. "Don't do it, Silas. That's a binding contract. Once you take that coin, you can't break it."
"I'll do what I must," Silas said, looking at the coin in his hand. "I have no choice."
The old woman's smile deepened, but her eyes were sharp. "Then take it. And when the Veil calls for you... remember your promise."
Silas's hand tightened around the coin.
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Elsewhere – Hidden Among the Stars
A shadow stood, watching.
The coin had been taken. The mark was set.
And now, the Echo's true test would begin.
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End of Chapter 5
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