11:15 PM.
The pull in Makun’s chest was stronger now. What had started as a string was definitely a rope. Thick. Insistent. Dragging him through the narrow streets of Old Town.
This is it. I can feel it.
He followed the sensation deeper into the maze of cobblestone alleys. Ancient buildings leaned over the streets like old n sharing secrets. So of the architecture looked older than anything else in the city.
How far back do these buildings go?
The spiritual energy here was thick. Dense. The translucent particles floated through the air like snow that never settled.
This is insane. He kept walking. Following invisible energy through the city at midnight. If anyone saw ...
No one was out. The streets were empty except for the occasional drunk or late shift worker. Makun avoided eye contact with everyone.
Don’t draw attention. Not tonight.
He passed a holess man sleeping in a doorway. Empty bottles scattered around him. As Makun walked by, one of the bottles rolled directly into his path.
His foot caught it. He stumbled, barely caught himself on a wall.
Even here. Even now.
The holess man didn’t wake up. But Makun noticed the man’s shopping cart. One of the wheels had broken off and was sitting right where Makun had just been walking.
If I hadn’t tripped on the bottle, I would’ve stepped on that wheel and probably twisted my ankle.
His bad luck protecting him from worse luck.
That’s a new one.
The rope sensation was still there. Pulling him forward.
Getting close.
11:32 PM.
Makun turned down what looked like a promising street. The pull was strongest in this direction.
Twenty steps in, he hit a dead end.
Brick wall. No way forward.
The energy trail vanished like soone had cut the rope.
Shit.
Makun backtracked, tried to pick up the sensation again. Nothing. Just the faint ache in his skull and the floating particles that seed dimr now.
12:23 AM.
I’m going to miss it. The market runs until 4, but what if I can’t find it at all?
Panic crept up his throat. This was his only lead. His only chance to understand what was happening to him.
He closed his eyes, tried to focus like he had in his apartnt. Feel it. Don’t think about it, just feel.
The particles were still there. Drifting around him like dust in sunlight. But when he reached out with whatever sense was developing in him, they felt... different.
So moved randomly.
Others had direction.
Follow the ones with purpose.
Makun opened his eyes, started walking again. This ti he ignored the streets and focused on the energy patterns. The purposeful particles led him down a different route.
Two blocks over. Then left. Then right down an alley so narrow his shoulders nearly touched the walls.
The rope sensation returned. Stronger than before.
12:41 AM.
The alley opened onto a small plaza. Ancient looking. Cobblestones worn smooth. A fountain in the center that hadn’t run water in years.
And absolutely nothing else.
This can’t be right.
But the energy here was thick. Almost visible. The particles swirled around the plaza like a slow tornado.
Makun stepped into the space.
The world shifted.
Not dramatically. Just enough to make his stomach drop. Like the ground had tilted by a degree or two.
The fountain was running now. Clear water catching streetlight that ca from lamps that hadn’t been there seconds before.
And there were people.
They stood in shadows around the plaza’s edges. Hooded figures. Quiet conversations. So carried bags or baskets. Others held objects he couldn’t identify from a distance.
The market.
His heart hamred against his ribs.
I found it. I actually found it.
Makun took a step toward the nearest group.
"Stop."
The voice ca from directly behind him.
Makun spun around.
A figure stood at the plaza’s entrance. Tall. Wearing dark clothes and a silver mask that covered half their face. Ornate designs etched into the tal. Geotric patterns that seed to move when he wasn’t looking directly at them.
"Who are you?" The voice was neither male nor female. Processed sohow. Like it was coming through water.
"I..." Makun’s mouth went dry. "I’m looking for information."
"Everyone here is looking for information." The masked figure stepped closer. "The question is: do you belong here?"
"I don’t know what you an."
"Can you see the market?"
Makun glanced around. The hooded figures. The running fountain. The lamps that cast warm light on weathered stone.
"Yes."
"Can you see ?"
"Obviously."
The figure tilted their head. "Many people walk through this plaza at night. Most see empty space and a broken fountain. They walk through without stopping. You stopped. You can see. But can you pay?"
"Pay for what?"
"Entry. Knowledge. Safety, or whatever is demanded by the night market." The figure’s mask caught the lamplight. "Everything here has a price. Are you prepared to pay it? If not, this place is not for you."
Makun thought about Zuri’s warnings. About the paper in his pocket with the list of safety signs.
Silver jewelry.
He couldn’t see any jewelry on the figure. But the mask was silver. Did that count?
Eye contact.
The mask covered part of their face, but their eyes were visible. Dark. Fixed on his.
Bloodline questions.
They hadn’t asked about his family.
It seems the list zuri had written for him was useful, sohow.
"What kind of price?"
"Depends what you want." The figure stepped aside, gesture toward the market. "Entry is gonna be free for your first few tis in the market, However after a couple weeks, you pay. But today, once you’re in, you play by our rules. Understand?"
"What rules?"
"No violence. No theft. No questions about real nas or addresses, unless the opposing person discloses on their own. Paynt in full before services rendered, Once again unless both agreed otherwise, And if you can’t pay..." The figure’s voice dropped. "You leave. Imdiately."
Makun Understood that everything he said could be done, you could ask about soone na, adress, etc.. However they chose whether to report you or not.
If they did, you were in trouble.
So its better to do it when you were sure they are gonna answer.
Makun nodded. "I understand."
The masked figure studied him for another long mont. Then stepped fully aside.
"Welco to the Night Market, newcor. Try not to get consud."
Makun walked past them into the plaza.
The mont he crossed so invisible threshold, the energy around him changed. Beca electric. Like the air before a thunderstorm.
And he realized the hooded figures weren’t just standing around talking.
They were conducting business.
The stalls hadn’t been visible from the entrance.
Now they were everywhere. Wooden tables. Cloth-covered booths. Blankets spread on the ground with objects arranged in careful patterns.
And the objects...
Makun walked slowly through the market, trying not to stare.
A woman sold bottles of various sizes. Each one glowed with different colored light. The labels were handwritten. Childhood Wonder.First Love. Mother’s Lullaby. She was haggling with a custor over a small vial marked Wedding Day.
"Three years off your natural lifespan," she said. "Final offer."
"Two years," the custor countered. "It’s only a partial mory."
"Two years and six months. The mory includes emotional resonance."
They shook hands. The custor’s hair turned slightly grayer. The woman handed over the bottle.
They’re trading mories. Actual mories.What can they use that for?
Is it to do with the feeling, information or are they gaining sothing from it.
Zuri has ntioned about practicioners doing things that benefited them.
This ans they benefit from mories sohow.
Makun moved to the next stall.
An old man sat behind a table covered in jewelry. But not normal jewelry. The pieces moved. A necklace of silver links that crawled across the table like a snake. Rings that changed color as he watched. A bracelet that humd with barely audible music.
"Protection charms," the old man said, noticing Makun’s attention. "Luck enhancers. Spiritual shields. What’s your poison?"
"I’m just looking."
The man’s eyes sharpened. "First ti?"
Makun nodded.
"Word of advice. Don’t just look. Soone will think you’re casing the place. Buy sothing small or move along."
"What do you recomnd?" He asked while looking at the stall infront of him, full of things that made no sense to him.
The old man reached under his table, pulled out a simple copper bracelet. "Basic spiritual awareness. Helps you sense when sothing supernatural is focused on you. Fifty dollars."
"What’s the catch?"
"Smart question. No catch. It’s entry level. Like training wheels." The man leaned forward. "But I can see you’ve got bigger problems than basic awareness. Sothing’s been feeding on you for a long ti."
Feeding. The word sent ice through Makun’s veins. "How can you tell?"
"Your spiritual signature. I cannot feel it, it’s... depleted. Drained. Like soone’s been siphoning off your life force for years." The man’s expression grew serious. "That’s not random bad luck, boy. Soone’s been farming you."
Farming. Just like zuri had said.
"What kind of individual carry out these activities?" He started his chase at information.
"Could be anyone with the skill. Rival. Enemy. Soone who wanted to keep you weak while they harvested your energy." The old man studied him closer. "But you’re awake now. Which ans either the farr is dead, or the harvest is ready."
Makun’s hands started shaking. "Ready for what?"
"Collection."
Reviews
All reviews (0)