In the darkness of the caravan, a small, childlike figure lay suspended within a vat of dark blood, its body convulsing faintly.
The rchant turned toward the lady from whom he had purchased it.
"Is it alive?"
The lady rely smiled, faint and unreadable. She did not answer. Instead, she left the question with him, forcing the rchant to decide for himself whether what he had bought could truly be called alive.
The rchant studied the childlike figure closely as it slowly moved, turning in the dark blood. In its grasp was a small statue of a horse with a magnificent mane, a man riding atop it, and a pair of wings on its back. The figure clutched it tightly as he peered closer.
It was so alluring that the rchant nearly reached into the vat to retrieve it, but then he froze, his face etched with fear.
He quickly pulled his hand back.
"Demon!"
Stepping out of the caravan, he slamd the entrance shut behind him.
The thick mist curled around him, hiding the caravan from the view of anyone passing by.
One of the passersby sensed that sothing was amiss. She slowed, squinting as she searched the street. Before she could move closer, a hand caught her wrist.
It belonged to a lady with silver hair and faint wrinkles gathered around her eyes, spectacles perched neatly atop her nose. She smiled as she stopped Elizabeth.
Elizabeth yanked her hand away from her wrist with a sharp flick.
"Who are you?!"
"A witch...the mist witch. I thought everyone knew about ," she said with a giggle.
"Witch?! I heard she lived outside," Elizabeth replied, not entirely convinced by the answer.
The witch kept her smile. "I do, just ca to check on soone close. And... that’s done, so I’ll be leaving soon."
She paused for a mont, then said, "Here, a small gift for the friend of Rosacer..."
Tossing a pouch in the air towards Elizabeth, she took a step back.
"How—" Before Elizabeth could finish her question, the witch vanished into the mist, becoming one with it.
With the witch gone, Elizabeth turned her gaze toward the pouch that had fallen onto the pavent. She moved closer and bent to retrieve it.
Inside lay a single item, a bracelet. When her fingers brushed its surface, she felt a warmth pulsing within. Its tal bore esoteric engravings, a concentric circle etched with infinite tangents.
Elizabeth was not well versed in archaic gods or ancient cultures, yet this symbol was unmistakable. It was prevalent among those who worshipped the divine.
It was the mark of the Sun God of Mount Har’Our.
"Rosacer worshipped the Sun God as well..."
The realization struck her with painful clarity.
After lingering a mont in quiet reminiscence, she turned and made her way toward the dockside district. Within one of the warehouses stood an auction house known as the Black Heart Gathering.
She had heard of it from a commoner and where there was an auction of such nature, mages were certain to be present.
While walking toward the dock, she rembered the rat that had started the journey with her. But when the Wishing Monster attacked, they were separated.
"Aaron... I wonder if he made it out of the mist village..."
The warehouse stood before her, half swallowed by fog. In the dock district, the mist was far denser than even that which clung to the Mira River. She could barely make out the silhouettes of ships moored nearby, their shapes dissolving into the pale veil as she drew closer.
The guards at the warehouse entrance searched her briefly, then waved her through without comnt.
Inside, the air was warr, but stale. The table and chairs were arranged with three chairs set around the table.
Elizabeth took a seat near the back.
As she made her way along, she kept an eye out for people in robes or with sigil marks on their hands. Mages of the spellworks usually had such signs, never humble enough to conceal their presence.
The darkness enveloped the warehouse as the ti for the auction was beginning.
The auctioneer stepped up, a woman with a bent back and a voice honed by years of authority. She revealed the night’s the with a touch of satisfaction.
"Today’s items are recovered from the Western Sector."
The room moved.
A few heads lifted at once.
Elizabeth’s interest piqued too.
’Roro’s area... the item must be related to mages then. quite fortunate,’ She thought to herself.
Roro was the head mage of the mage tower in the Western Sector and its ruler. He had originally been a wandering wraith, the soul of a dead man, resurrected by mages into a living body. With his talent, he climbed the ranks and eventually beca the ruler.1
The first display was carried out under a cover, and when it was lifted, a wave of murmurs swept through the crowd.
"First item," the auctioneer announced, her voice cutting through the noise.
Suspended within a faint blue ward hung a shifting robe. Its fabric rippled unnaturally, and for a heartbeat, three identical silhouettes appeared around it before fading.
"Item 2-84. The Robe of Decoysis," she continued. "When worn, it produces false manifestations of the bearer. These decoys move, draw attention, and receive attacks in place of the original."
She gestured, and a blade passed through one of the images, which vanished instantly.
"Spells misfire, eyes deceive themselves, and enemies strike shadows," the auctioneer said. "Be warned. Prolonged use may blur the wearer’s sense of self."
She raised her gavel.
"Bidding begins at thirty thousand sleepless pills."
The auction has officially begun.
Around the corner seat, Elizabeth listened.
One item followed another, then another, until the auction blurred into a steady rhythm of voices, bids, and raised hands. By the ti it ended, she had already marked three mages worth rembering.
Then she felt it.
A pressure at the edge of her awareness.
It was light and controlled yet seed intentional.
She swept her gaze across the hall to where a man in a black coat sat. His face had a pale, purplish hue, and his tall fra gave him the eerie look of a dead man walking, like a wraith.
’Who is he?!’
Chapter 24 contains so lore about the four rulers; if anything is unclear, give it another read.
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