# Chapter 33: The Night Market's Edge
The train doors hissed open, spilling the team onto a platform that defied the rigid geometry of the rest of Aethelburg. The air that hit them was a thick, intoxicating cocktail of night-blooming jasmine, ozone, and something else… something ancient and sweet, like decay and honey. The station lights weren't the sterile, humming fluorescents of the Undercity; they were clusters of softly glowing, ethereal fungi clinging to the vaulted ceiling, casting long, dancing shadows that seemed to breathe. The platform itself was made of a smooth, dark stone that swirled with faint, iridescent patterns, like oil on water. This was the threshold, the edge of the Night Market, a place that existed in the liminal space between law and chaos, reality and dream.
Liraya took a sharp breath, the scent grounding her. She felt the team's collective tension, a palpable aura of anxiety. Anya was trembling, her eyes wide as she stared at the shifting shadows. Edi clutched his satchel of tech like a holy relic, his knuckles white. Konto leaned against a wall, his face pale and slick with sweat, but his eyes were sharp, analytical. He was forcing himself past the pain, past the exhaustion, his mind a weapon even if his powers were gone.
"Alright," Liraya said, her voice a low command that cut through the sensory overload. "We knew this was coming. We walk in, we find Belly, we assess. We do not engage unless we have to. Our goal is information, not a fight." She looked at each of them, her gaze lingering on Konto. "Kaelen is a Dreamwalker, but he's not like you, Konto. He's a thug with a psychic sledgehammer. He relies on fear and brute force. Edi, I need countermeasures."
Edi nodded, already pulling a slim tablet from his bag. "I've been working on it. I can't block his abilities entirely, but I can deploy localized psychic static. It'll be like trying to shout in a wind tunnel. It'll disorient him, maybe give us a window." He tapped the screen, and a schematic of a small, disc-shaped device appeared. "I have three. We use them sparingly."
"Anya," Liraya continued, her voice softening. "What did you see? On the train. Give me everything."
Anya flinched, hugging herself. "It wasn't… clear. It's never clear here. Too much noise." She gestured vaguely at the air. "I saw a stall. Lots of bottles. Blue light. And a man… smiling. But his teeth were… wrong. Too sharp. And I heard a name. Not Kaelen. Another name. It sounded like… glass breaking."
Liraya processed that. A cryptic clue, but better than nothing. "Gideon, you copy?"
"Loud and clear," Gideon's voice came through their earpieces, a steady anchor in the surreal environment. "I'm tapped into the Market's public chatter. It's a mess of encrypted whispers and dead drops, but I'm tracking movement. There's a spike in Cartel activity near the Weeping Obelisk. That's a central landmark. If you're looking for a public meeting, that's a good place to start. Be careful, team. The Wardens don't patrol here, but they have informants. And the Cartel… they own the shadows."
"Understood," Liraya said. "We're moving out."
They stepped off the platform and into a street that seemed to have no fixed shape. The cobblestones beneath their feet shimmered and shifted, the storefronts leaning at impossible angles, their signs written in languages that flickered between recognizable script and flowing, dream-like script. The air hummed with a low, thrumming energy, the collective psychic residue of thousands of illicit transactions and whispered secrets. The scent of spiced meats and alien fruits wafted from a stall where a hulking, four-armed creature was grilling something that wriggled on a skewer.
They moved as a tight unit, Liraya in the lead, Edi and Anya in the middle, and Konto bringing up the rear, his hand resting on the wall for support. He was a liability, and he knew it, but his presence was a statement. He refused to be left behind. His eyes, however, were not on the path ahead but on the reflections in the shop windows. He saw them almost immediately. Not Wardens. Their movements were too clumsy, too obvious. These were professionals. A figure in a long, hooded cloak lingering by an alleyway. A pair of sharp-eyed observers pretending to haggle over a crate of glowing, pulsating eggs. They were Somnus Cartel lookouts. They were being watched from the moment they arrived.
"They're here," Konto murmured, his voice barely a whisper. "Three on the main drag. Two on the rooftops. Probably more."
Liraya didn't turn her head. "See the stall with the chimes?" she said, her voice just as low. "We're going to cut through there. Gideon, give me a path to the Weeping Obelisk that avoids the main thoroughfares."
"Working on it," Gideon replied. "Take a left at the stall selling bottled moonlight. Then a right into the alley of forgotten sounds. It's risky, less populated, but it'll get you behind the main Cartel observation posts."
They followed the instructions, weaving through the bewildering labyrinth of the Market. The stall of bottled moonlight was exactly as it sounded; hundreds of glass jars of all sizes lined the shelves, each containing a tiny, captured sliver of lunar light that cast a soft, silvery glow. The proprietor, a woman with skin like polished obsidian and eyes that held no pupils, watched them pass without a word. The alley of forgotten sounds was even stranger. As they walked, they were assailed by a cacophony of phantom noises: the laughter of a child, the closing of a door from a century ago, the distant tolling of a bell that no longer existed. It was a place of psychic echoes, and Anya whimpered, pressing her hands to her ears.
"It's okay," Edi said, putting a gentle hand on her shoulder. "Just noise. It can't hurt you."
Konto wasn't so sure. In a place like this, noise could become a weapon. He could feel the pressure building behind his eyes, a familiar precursor to a psychic migraine. The Somnolent Corruption was reacting to the ambient dream energy, like a thirsting man in a desert. He gritted his teeth, focusing on the physical pain, using it to anchor himself to the waking world.
They emerged from the alley into a wide, circular plaza. In its center stood the Weeping Obelisk, a massive pillar of black, porous stone that constantly wept a shimmering, silvery liquid. The liquid pooled at its base, creating a small, reflective pond that showed not the sky above, but a swirling, star-filled nebula. This was the heart of the Night Market, a place of power and pilgrimage. The plaza was crowded, a chaotic mix of humans, mages, and stranger things, all haggling, trading, and conspiring under the obelisk's eerie light.
And there, standing by a stall selling intricate, clockwork birds, was Belly.
Liraya's heart seized. Belly looked just as she remembered, yet utterly wrong. She wore a fine silk dress, but it was stained and rumpled. Her hair, usually impeccably styled, was disheveled. Her face was pale, her eyes wide with a fear she was desperately trying to conceal. She was talking to someone, her posture tense, her hands clasped tightly in front of her.
The man she was with was tall and lean, dressed in a tailored, charcoal-grey suit that seemed to absorb the light around him. He had sharp, handsome features and a lazy, confident smile that didn't reach his cold, calculating eyes. As he turned slightly, the light from a nearby stall caught the Aspect tattoo on his neck—a coiled serpent made of shadowy ink. Kaelen. He looked exactly like his file, and worse. He radiated an aura of casual cruelty, a man who enjoyed the power he held over others.
This was it. The ambush. But it wasn't a brute-force trap. It was a negotiation. A public one.
"Stay here," Liraya commanded, her voice a low growl. "Edi, be ready with the static. Anya, stay back. Konto… just stay with them." She didn't wait for a reply. She straightened her shoulders, smoothed her ruined coat, and walked directly toward them, her stride purposeful and filled with a cold fury that was a stark contrast to the fear Belly was projecting.
Belly saw her first. Her eyes widened in shock and horror, a silent plea on her face. Kaelen followed her gaze, and his lazy smile widened into a predatory grin. He had been expecting them. He was enjoying this.
"Liraya," he said, his voice a smooth, silken purr that carried easily over the plaza's din. "What a pleasant surprise. I was just catching up with your dear friend. She was just telling me how worried she is about you."
Belly flinched at his words, her gaze darting between Liraya and the man beside her. "Liraya, you shouldn't have come," she whispered, her voice trembling.
"I had to," Liraya replied, her eyes locked on Kaelen. She ignored Belly for the moment, focusing on the true threat. "Kaelen. I should have known the Cartel would stoop to using threats against family to get its way."
Kaelen chuckled, a low, unpleasant sound. "Threats? No, no. This is a business arrangement. Isn't that right, Belly?" He placed a hand on her shoulder, and she flinched as if burned. "Your friend has something I want. And my employer… well, my employer has something she wants. It's a simple exchange."
"And what's that?" Liraya asked, her mind racing. What could Belly possibly want that badly?
"Safe passage," Kaelen said, his smile never wavering. "For her and her family. Out of Aethelburg. Away from the… unpleasantness that's coming. A fresh start. All in exchange for a little information. And for you, of course." He gestured vaguely at Liraya. "Consider yourself a signing bonus."
From the edge of the plaza, hidden in the shadows of a stall selling dream-essences, Konto watched the confrontation unfold. His body screamed in protest, his vision swam, but his mind was crystal clear. He saw the micro-expressions, the subtle body language. Belly was a hostage, but she was also a participant. Kaelen wasn't just a Cartel thug; he was a middleman. His confidence, his relaxed posture in the heart of enemy territory—it spoke of a powerful backer. Someone who made the Somnus Cartel look like small-time players.
"Who's your employer, Kaelen?" Liraya demanded, playing for time. "The Cartel doesn't deal in 'safe passages.' They deal in vice and extortion. This is something else."
Kaelen's grin faltered for a fraction of a second, a flicker of annoyance in his eyes. "My employer is a visionary. Someone who understands that this city is a rotting corpse and that it's time to burn it down so something new can grow. Someone who appreciates talent." He glanced past Liraya, his eyes scanning the crowd, as if looking for the rest of her team. "Speaking of talent, where's your pet psychic, Konto? I heard he had a bit of a run-in with the Wardens. A shame. I would have enjoyed adding his mind to my collection."
The threat was casual, dismissive, and it ignited a cold fire in Liraya's gut. "He's not here," she lied smoothly. "He's long gone. You're dealing with me."
"Are you sure about that?" Kaelen asked, his gaze sharpening. He tilted his head, as if listening to something only he could hear. "I think he's closer than you think. I can almost… taste his fear. It's delicious. So much corruption. So much potential."
He was probing, testing her defenses, trying to get a psychic lock on their location. Edi, seeing the shift, tensed, his thumb hovering over the activation button on his tablet.
Suddenly, Anya's voice, thin and reedy, cut through their private comm channel. "The man with the sharp teeth… he's here. He's watching. He's not with Kaelen. He's… above."
Konto's head snapped up. He scanned the rooftops overlooking the plaza, his eyes straining to see past the glare of the dream-lights. And then he saw him. A figure standing on the ledge of a crumbling tenement, silhouetted against the artificial stars of the Weeping Obelisk's reflection. He was tall and unnaturally still, dressed in a long, dark coat. Even from this distance, Konto could feel the waves of malevolent power rolling off him. This was no ordinary Dreamwalker. This was something else entirely. Something that belonged in the deepest, most terrifying nightmares.
The figure raised a hand, and the air in the plaza grew thick, heavy. The hum of conversation died down, replaced by a confused, fearful silence. The dream-essences in the nearby stalls began to flicker and die. The Weeping Obelisk itself seemed to shudder, its silvery tears turning black as ink.
Kaelen's confident smirk vanished, replaced by a look of genuine shock and alarm. He looked up at the rooftop, his face pale. "No," he breathed. "He wasn't supposed to be here. Not yet."
The figure on the rooftop spoke, his voice a distorted, echoing whisper that seemed to come from everywhere at once. "The deal is off, Kaelen. The asset belongs to the Oneiros Collective now."
Liraya's blood ran cold. The Oneiros Collective. The name from Anya's vision. The name Moros had used.
The figure raised his other hand, and the shadows in the plaza began to writhe and coalesce. They stretched and twisted, forming into monstrous, vaguely humanoid shapes with too many limbs and gaping, toothless maws. The nightmare creatures were manifesting. Not in a controlled, subtle way, but with explosive, violent force. Panic erupted. Screams tore through the crowd as people scrambled to flee, trampling each other in their desperation to escape.
One of the shadow-creatures lunged, not at the fleeing crowd, but directly at Belly.
"No!" Liraya shouted, instinctively throwing up a shield of pure kinetic force. The creature slammed into the shield with a wet, smacking sound, dissolving into a spray of inky blackness. But the effort cost her. She staggered, the air driven from her lungs.
Kaelen, seeing his prize and his escape route threatened, made a decision. He grabbed Belly by the arm, yanking her toward him. "Change of plans!" he yelled, a desperate edge to his voice. He raised his free hand, and a wave of psychic force blasted out, not at Liraya, but at the ground in front of them. The cobblestones shattered, creating a cloud of dust and debris.
In that moment of confusion, he dragged Belly away, disappearing into the panicked throng.
Liraya started to follow, but a voice stopped her. It was Konto, his voice strained but urgent over the comm. "Liraya, don't! It's a distraction! Look!"
She turned. The other shadow-creatures weren't attacking the crowd. They were converging on a single point. On them. On Anya, who stood frozen in terror, her eyes fixed on the nightmare unfolding around her. And on Konto, who was slumped against the wall, his face a mask of agony as the raw dream-energy of the manifested creatures washed over him, feeding the Corruption inside him. The man on the rooftop, the true master of this ambush, had not come for Belly or Kaelen. He had come for them.