Everything became quiet. The Market, the stalls, even the air itself seemed to hold its breath.
The voice called again, soft and cold.
"Olivia."
Elijah grabbed my hand, his grip tight, almost desperate.
"Don't listen, not yet," he whispered.
But something inside me shifted,a crack, small but deep, letting a memory surface I hadn't wanted, a memory I hadn't asked for.
A shadow flashed across my mind, a place, a sound, a scream.
I stumbled, the ground beneath me pulsed, like it recognized me, like it remembered me.
The curtain of the dark tent lifted slightly, a small breath of cold air brushed my skin, my heart raced harder.
"What is in there?" I whispered,
Elijah's jaw tightened,
"A truth… one you aren't ready for."
The Market didn't care what I was ready for, it called again, louder this time, closer.
"You cannot hide from me."
Lanterns dimmed, the air thickened. Elijah pulled me back, but the Market pushed me forward, like an invisible tide.
I pressed my hand against my chest. Something hurt there, a deep, silent ache.
A memory flickered, a small hand, mine, reaching, a face crying, a promise broken.
The image vanished before I could hold it.
Elijah's voice trembled,
"Olivia, please… if you walk into that tent now, you won't come back the same."
His voice wasn't steady anymore. It was fear and sadness tangled together.
The Market hummed around us, watching, waiting.
And for the first time, I realized this place wasn't simply magical. It was hungry.