My hands shook, I have only heard of this stuff in the folksongs that my villagers sang – of friends betraying each other for power and gold. I tried to cling to a calmer thought. Maybe there was a misunderstanding. Maybe he had taken the book to keep it safe, tucked it away somewhere I hadn't thought to look.Thousands of thoughts rushed through and My heart was beating against my ribs as blood travelled to my ears and froze there.
I moved without thinking, tearing through the small space in a growing panic. The bedsheets were dragged aside, the thin mattress shoved out of place, the table and desk searched and searched again. I left nothing untouched but when I finally stopped, breathless and shaking, the truth was impossible to ignore.
The book was gone.
That was my only key to Mira. This cannot be happening to me. My throat welled up with unsaid emotions and my eyes burned with rage as I looked at the ceiling and just let everything come over me. I wailed for hours when my knees and arms hit the floor, praying to just anyone who would listen.
When I finally found the strength in me to get up, I grabbed my satchel and ran downstairs and inquired about Henry.
"Sir," I said, my voice thinner than I expected, "have you seen the man who arrived with me last night?"
He looked up slowly, studying my face before answering. His white beard spilled down his chest as he ran a hand through it, thoughtful, almost hesitant.
"Ah," he said at last. "That one left sometime around midnight. Seemed in quite a hurry. Didn't say where he was going."
The words settled heavily between us.
So it was true. The fear I had been trying to outrun had teeth after all and now it was too late to stop it.
As if sensing the panic I was trying to hide, the innkeeper spoke again before I could turn away.
"If you've lost something," he said quietly, "you'll find it in the nearest black market. When you leave the inn, take the first alley behind it. You won't miss the place."
I gave him a short nod and stepped outside.
The sudden brightness made me squint. Sunlight flooded the street, warm against my skin, and the smell of freshly baked bread drifted through the air as people moved about their day, laughing, bargaining, living as if my world hadn't just begun to fall apart. I didn't stop. I rounded the corner of the inn and slipped into the first alleyway I found behind it.
The narrow passage opened into chaos.
The alley spilled into a crowded street alive with noise—shouts, curses, the clang of metal. Men argued loudly and a fight broke out near a stall as two others wrestled each other to the ground. As I moved away, someone slammed into my shoulder as he sprinted past, nearly knocking me over, and a group of men tore after him, voices raw with anger.
"Stop, you bastard!"
I steadied myself and took in the market around me. Vendors lined the street, their tables cluttered with compasses, knives, swords, and brittle old documents sealed with wax. Everything felt dangerous and tempting all at once, it had anything a person might want badly enough to pay the price for.
If the book was anywhere, it would be here.
I moved from stall to stall, asking about a book that might have been sold earlier that day. But each answer was the same, there were quick shakes of the head, dismissive shrugs, or sly smiles followed by attempts to sell me something else entirely. I waved them off and drifted toward the far end of the market, frustration weighing heavier with every step.
I was caught in my own disappointment before something familiar caught my eye.
Even with a blanket pulled halfway over his head, I recognized Henry instantly. He was slipping towards the dimly lit area of the market.
"Henry!" I shouted. "Stop right there!"
He froze for half a breath – then bolted.
I took off after him, shoving through the crowd as he disappeared ahead of me. Someone crashed into my shoulder, another cursed loudly as I stumbled past, but I didn't slow down. The shouts, the stalls, the market itself blurred into nothing as I chased him into the dimmer stretch beyond.
I saw him slip through a narrow wooden door at the end of the passage, his figure vanishing behind it. I reached the door seconds later and threw it open –
Only to find a blank stone wall staring back at me.
I froze, breath ragged, staring at the empty space where he should have been.
Where the hell did he disappear to?
I ran my hands along the wall, pushing and pulling at the stone. There had to be something hidden here—some kind of mechanism I was missing. When I noticed it: a single brick, its color was more faded than the rest, maybe it was worn smooth from use.
Holding my breath, I pressed it.
The wall groaned and slid sideways, revealing a narrow passage beyond. Fire lanterns flickered along the walls in a zigzag pattern, their light casting long, uneven shadows. I followed the passage to its end, where it opened into an entirely hidden market.
This place was different from the one above. The air felt heavier, thick with smoke and murmured deals. Stalls were packed with strange artifacts, illegal enchantments, and objects that pulsed faintly with unnatural energy.
A young woman hung from the ceiling, her arms and legs bound tightly with rope as she struggled weakly, suspended above the crowd. Beneath her, a man gestured upward, his voice loud and practiced.
"How much for this thief right here?" he called. "Bidding starts at three hundred gold coins."
A chorus of groans and complaints rose from the crowd.
"Why so high?"
"You're bleeding us dry!"
The man sneered. "She's got ancient knowledge. Can read old documents most of you can't even pronounce."
"Fuck off, prick!" the woman shouted from above, twisting against her bindings. "Get me out of these bounds!"
Laughter rippled through the market as the bidding began.
"Four hundred!" a man in a dark cloak shouted.
He looked young. I only caught a glimpse of him as he raised his hand and his dirty blond hair peaked from under his hood.
I saw Mira in her. The same helplessness. The same fear of being reduced to a price shouted across a room.
Not again.
I wouldn't stand by and watch another person be treated like this. Not while I was still breathing.