The Upper Chamber had its own rules, and the Fractured Market seemed determined to break every single one of them.
From the moment Emberbound stepped past the crooked archway marked with shifting runes, the air was thick with noise, spice, and tension. Stalls weren't just lined along streets; they were stacked on top of each other, teetering in strange architectural defiance. Rope bridges linked merchant booths like spiderwebs, and traders shouted from every level, hawking goods that looked half-useful, half-dangerous.
Aaren's eyes darted from a table of vials filled with bottled lightning to a spinning rack of knives that sang in harmony whenever they touched. Koro immediately vanished into the crowd, drawn by the sound of clattering dice. Lenara smirked.
"Watch this," she said, slipping away before Aaren could stop her.
WitheredFlame's voice echoed faintly in Aaren's head, calm but edged with warning. Don't get distracted. Places like this swallow focus… and coin.
A loud crack! rang out nearby. Aaren turned to see Koro standing over a massive, bearded merchant, grinning like a cat that stole the cream.
"I thought it was just a friendly match," Koro said, lifting his hand in mock innocence. The merchant's overturned arm-wrestling table told a different story.
"You broke his pride," Lenara's voice came from behind Aaren — and somehow from behind the merchant, too. She had a knack for appearing in two places at once. "And possibly his table. Now run."
They ran.
The crowd thickened as they pushed deeper into the market. Hawkers shoved strange trinkets into their hands — a glass marble that whispered the name of whoever touched it, a folded paper bird that insisted it could lead them to treasure, a loaf of bread that levitated a few inches above the counter.
"Everything here's cursed or overpriced," Koro muttered, flipping the bread and sniffing it anyway. "Or cursed and overpriced."
But then, in the corner of a shadowed lane, Aaren saw it: a black-stoned stall where no one seemed to notice the merchant at all. No shouts, no flashing wares — just a stillness that felt… intentional. The merchant was draped in layered scarves, their eyes hidden, but their hand rested on a book bound in metal chains.
"You feel that?" Aaren whispered.
Lenara tilted her head, frowning for once. "Yeah. Like the air just stopped breathing."
Before they could move closer, the sound of shattering glass erupted from behind them. Two rival traders were screaming over a cart of Skyroot Mushrooms. The argument escalated fast — too fast. Knives flashed, and one of the combatants hurled a crate of mushrooms into the air. As the glowing fungi rained down, a dozen nearby vendors joined the fray for reasons no one could explain.
Within seconds, the brawl was a market-wide explosion of chaos. Stalls collapsed. Ropes snapped. Someone threw a goat.
"Great," Lenara groaned. "Fractured Market tradition: Tuesday Riot."
Koro laughed like this was the best day of his life. "Team Emberbound, let's earn our lunch!"
It took all four of them to push through the melee without getting flattened. Aaren found himself deflecting a swinging cleaver with his forearm bracer, while WitheredFlame's restrained voice guided his movements. Koro's goofy grin never faltered as he flung rowdy traders aside like sacks of grain, making it seem like clumsiness when it was anything but. Lenara somehow fought while juggling an orange she'd stolen earlier.
By the time the market guards finally broke it up, Emberbound was bruised, sweaty, and laughing — well, all except Aaren, who still kept glancing back toward that black-stoned stall. But when they looked again, it was gone.
"Squigbump," Lenara said, dusting off her coat, "next time you pick the destination, make sure it doesn't try to kill us and overcharge us."
Aaren only nodded. Something about that stall was going to follow them — and not in the friendly way.