The stars hung low over the ruined outskirts of Theodor, their silver light barely piercing through the swirling remnants of smoke that still lingered after the war. Within the humanitarian relief camp, most had retired for the night, wrapped in blankets or tucked into the canvas corners of their tents. But one tent held faint whispers and flickers of enchantment—Arriel, Lira, and Kell were preparing to sneak out again.
Lira adjusted her cloak and whispered a spell under her breath. "Veil of Silence." A soft shimmer surrounded them. "No sound leaves the bubble for the next ten minutes. Let's move."
The trio crept past the camp's perimeter, invisible to the weary guards. They made their way toward the broken heart of the town, where ruined buildings cast deep shadows and flickering torchlight hinted at life underground. They were heading to a secret contact, a black-market merchant named Hivareh—a connection arranged through Bakke, the information broker they'd met the night before.
After thirty minutes of navigating crumbling alleyways and debris-filled streets, they arrived at a broken stone warehouse. A robed man stood guard. He glanced at Kell, then stepped aside without a word.
The basement smelled of incense and old smoke. Inside, the underground market sprawled out like a network of serpents. Enchanted lights floated above stalls displaying illegal magical goods, forged papers, cursed trinkets, and poisons in tiny glass vials. At the far end, under a golden canopy, a merchant stood behind a crescent-shaped table stacked with velvet-lined boxes.
Hivareh.
He was tall, with black hair tied neatly behind his back and narrow eyes that gleamed behind gold-rimmed glasses. His robes were deep navy, embroidered with crimson thread.
"I see Bakke's pets have arrived," he said coolly.
Lira narrowed her eyes but said nothing. Kell stepped forward. "We're here to purchase. And in exchange, you'll tell us where we can find the information broker with the auction passwords."
Hivareh smiled. "You learn fast. No freeloaders in the black market."
Arriel looked over the table, noting a few interesting items. He picked up a magic thread rope, almost invisible, able to bind tightly without leaving a trace. Lira selected a whisper-proof veil, an enchanted cloth said to block all attempts at magical eavesdropping. Kell, always thinking ahead, purchased a forged noble brooch, marked with a Theodorian merchant insignia.
Hivareh calculated the price. "1,200 Git. Cash only."
Kell paid without hesitation.
Hivareh opened a leather-bound journal and scribbled something before tearing out a page. "You'll want to find a woman named Shimae. She operates out of the upper ruins, in an old noble estate. Fortune teller by day, information broker by night."
"Why her?" Lira asked.
"Because," Hivareh said, eyes sharp, "she can read minds. Makes lies a bit difficult to tell, doesn't it?"
The trio exchanged wary glances. Lira muttered a protection chant beneath her breath.
---
The Fortune Teller's Parlor
The ruins grew more elegant as they climbed uphill. Crumbled mansions and shattered stained-glass windows stood as echoes of a once-grand quarter. They arrived at a broken gate, behind which a faint purple glow illuminated a draped chamber within the ruins.
They stepped inside.
Silk curtains billowed gently with no wind. Candles floated above, shedding soft light over a velvet couch and crystal orbs. A woman sat in the center, legs crossed, black hair cascading down her back. Her skin was smooth, her green eyes piercing. Silver chains and charms adorned her wrists and ankles. Her clothing was more revealing than formal, emphasizing allure over modesty.
"You're late," she said softly.
Arriel stiffened.
"We didn't say we were coming," Lira replied cautiously.
"And yet you're here," Shimae said with a wry smile. "Don't worry, your minds are veiled. I can't peek. But that coin pouch in your robe—" she gestured toward Lira's cloak— "has a faint magical signature. A tracking rune?"
Lira's heart skipped a beat, but she kept her face calm. "Precaution."
Shimae laughed, a husky sound. "Clever. I like you."
They placed 1,000 Git on the table. Shimae took it without further comment.
"The password," she said, "is Golden Vine. But remember this—without an invitation card, you'll be under scrutiny. These auctions don't just open to anyone, even if you have the password."
"Where do people get the invitations?" Kell asked.
Shimae leaned forward, voice dropping. "Gambling dens, backdoor clubs, or special gifts to nobles and merchants. You'll need to get creative."
The three stood to leave. Shimae twirled a crystal between her fingers. "When you get inside the auction… be careful who you challenge. The deeper you dig, the more monsters you'll awaken."
---
Return to Camp
The trio returned to the relief center just as the first hints of dawn kissed the broken skyline. Lira set up a muffling barrier inside their tent and brought out a notebook.
"We have:
Location of the auction,
The password: Golden Vine,
But still no invitation card."
"Then we find someone who has one," Arriel said. "Or steal one."
Kell grinned. "At least we're not going in blind anymore."
Lira folded her arms, her eyes calm but focused. "Next step… get inside."
Outside, the camp stirred with life, unaware of the storm building in the shadows.