The sun rose slow and hazy, casting a muted amber glow over the River Pact's encampment. Morning mist clung to the riverbank, wrapping the tents and traders in a veil of silver.
Somewhere in the camp, a blacksmith was already at work—each strike of the hammer ringing clear through the still air, rhythmic and alive.
Sam sat near the firepit, elbows resting on his knees, watching the camp shake off its slumber. People moved with practised ease, dismantling makeshift beds, stirring embers back to life, checking lines tethered to Stoneback beasts and setting up their stalls.
Lily wandered past with a fresh piece of flatbread, still warm, folded around roasted root vegetables and spiced meat. She offered some to AJ.
"Even without taste I can tell this is good stuff." AJ spoke, "We should grab some spices, it'll help if we have to rely on food I make again."
"It's good," Lily replied, chewing thoughtfully. "Much better than anything we've had in weeks."
The others joined them one by one, shaking off sleep and stretching sore limbs. No one brought up the veiled woman from the night before. The encounter still hung in the back of their minds.
"Let's walk the perimeter," Sam said eventually, his voice croaky as he dusted off the sleepiness. "See what we missed yesterday."
---
The market felt different in daylight. Not just busier—more alive. The shadows that had whispered secrets under torchlight were gone, replaced by open faces, loud voices, and sunlit wares.
Stalls displayed colourful fabrics dyed in layered patterns—purples, deep greens, burnt orange. Wind chimes spun from carved bone tinkled softly in the breeze. Scent trails—spice, sweat, river salt, and oil—wove together into a thick tapestry of life.
A group of children darted past them, laughing as they chased a glowing beetle the size of a man's fist.
It hovered lazily over a stall before darting off, its bioluminescent shell flickering in the sunlight.
Ethan paused beside a tent displaying masks carved from strange wood—some smiling, others grimacing, all unnervingly lifelike.
"Creepy as hell," he muttered, his voice carrying that punch of honesty that often surprised people.
The merchant grinned behind the display. "Protection from spirits," she said, tapping her own mask. "Or lures, if you're brave."
"Yeah, no thanks," Ethan said, but his hand lingered a little longer before he turned away.
Lily stopped at a long table covered in stacked crystal bottles—each one containing suspended items, glowing leaves, preserved insects floating in amber-coloured fluid. A plaque read: Specimens—Anatomical, Magical, Unknown.
"These aren't just for display," she whispered. "This is research. Cataloguing."
Victor stood a few paces behind her, arms crossed, his expression unreadable. "Makes sense. Traders with no central hub would have to carry knowledge with them. This is a moving archive."
AJ extended a tendril towards one jar containing what looked like a pulsing black seed.
Sam watched a man in layered robes across the way, drawing runes in chalk onto flat slate tiles. People were buying them—some for good luck, others for travel protection, a few for more... private reasons.
A small boy tugged on the robed man's sleeve and whispered something. The man nodded, drew a different symbol, and handed the tile over with a bow. The boy pressed it to his chest and ran off.
The market's rhythm shifted as the morning deepened. Sam trailed his fingers along the edge of a stall draped in woven reed mats, his attention split between the chatter around him and the goods in front of him.
Nearby, a pair of Pact traders spoke over a crate of shimmering ore.
"—Sect's paying triple for astralite now," one muttered, wiping sweat from his brow. "Something about 'resonance thresholds.'"
His companion snorted. "Bullshit. They're hoarding. Heard they lost a dozen men last week near the Spine—something dug up didn't like being disturbed."
Sam lingered just long enough to catch the tremor in the man's voice before moving on, his mind racing with the implications.
Lily paused beside a cloth merchant's display, her fingers brushing against a bit of fabric that seemed to shift colour in the light. The vendor—a woman with eyes like polished flint—noticed her interest.
"Stormspun silk," she said. "From the cliffs where lightning never stops. This one's made of silk that survived 3 months in that place. Tougher than steel when layered right."
"It's beautiful," Lily admitted politely, but her focus was elsewhere. 3 months? hasn't it only been a few weeks since the Wish Event?
"Just a quick question, how long has it been since the Wish Event exactly? I lost count after the first few weeks." Lily flashed her most convincing embarrassed smile.
"It's been about 5 months since the Wish Event. You should use a bit of leather or something you can mark to keep track." The woman smiled back, not particularly surprised by the question, it was rare for people to think of keeping track of time.
Ethan leaned against a post, gnawing on a skewer of meat, his axe propped beside him. His shoulders were still sore from the hard labour at the settlement, but he'd taken Sam's lessons to heart.
Mana isn't just for fighting. He let the energy seep into the soreness, not to erase it, but to sooth it—like smoothing wrinkles from a map.
Two guards passed by, their spears tipped with jagged astralite shards.
"—Veyra's got the Blackpath runners sweating," one chuckled. "Bastards thought they could strong-arm the Pact. Now they're licking wounds and missing teeth."
"Teeth?" The second guard spat. "Try whole limbs. That new smith of hers is seriously good at what he does."
Ethan's grip tightened on the skewer.
Walter sat on a barrel near a tea stall, his cane balanced across his knees, tapping an irregular rhythm against the wood as he thought.
The vendor—an old man with a clouded left eye—poured him a cup without asking.
"For the joints," he said quietly.
Walter nodded his thanks, sipping the bitter brew. Around them, the market's undercurrents swirled. A woman bargaining for painkillers instead of food.
A child pocketing a vial of glowing powder when the stall keeper looked away. Survival here was a language everyone spoke, but fluency varied.
He closed his eyes, guiding mana through the ache in his hips. It wasn't healing, not exactly—more like reminding his body of what it used to be. The effect was fleeting, but the relief was real.
"You're new," the tea-seller observed.
Walter smiled. "Just passing through."
"Aren't we all?" The man's good eye gleamed. "The only thing that changes is how long we stay."
Victor stood in the shadow of a weapon stall, watching a blacksmith demonstrate a dagger's balance. The blade was crude but functional, its edge shimmering with flecks of etherium ore.
"Holds its sharpness like no other, this blade is the perfect weapon." the smith bragged.
Victor's fingers twitched. He could feel the ore's hunger—the way it pulled at the ambient mana like a parched root seeking water.
AJ pulsed softly on Sam's shoulder as they regrouped near the riverbank. "This place is full of secrets," he murmured.
Sam nodded, rolling the stiffness from his neck. The map weighed heavy in his pack. "We'll stay one more day. Gather what food and other supplies we can. Then we move."
Lily flexed her hands, the ghost of the storm-silk vendor's fatigue still clinging to her. "Half the merchants here don't even know what they're trading." She murmured
Ethan hefted his axe, grinning. "Better for us. Easier to get what we want at a good price."
Walter's cane tapped the ground and took on a lecturing tone. "Loud people draw eyes. Keep your talk quiet and your eyes and ears open."
They fell silent, each of them tracing the flow of mana through their bodies—a silent, steady rhythm beneath the market's noise.
Around them, the River Pact's camp thrived, oblivious to the currents circulating in the shadows.
---
The next morning dawned bright and humid, the river mist clinging to the camp as the merchants began their daily routines.
Sam stretched, feeling the hum of mana circulating through his limbs, like a second pulse beneath his skin. The others were already stirring, their movements sharper than the day before.
AJ pulsed eagerly on Lily's shoulder. "Let's find some food first."
They split up to cover more ground. Lily and Walter headed for the food stalls, where smoked meats and dried fruits were stacked alongside stranger items.
knotted roots that glowed faintly, strips of fish that shimmered like oil on water, and baskets of thumb-sized nuts that rattled when shaken.
Walter haggled with a vendor for a pouch of bloodfruit. He paid with a Ravager claw and pocketed a handful of soulshroom chips as well.
Nearby, Ethan traded their remaining scales for a large slab of Stoneback beast fat, plenty of mana and very cheap. "AJ's gonna love this," he said, hefting the greasy package.
Victor and Sam scoured the mineral stalls. The Pact's prices were steep, but Sam bartered some astralite, courtesy of AJ's replication, for a palm-sized chunk of etherium ore and a vial of glowmelt.
A syrupy substance that emitted light when agitated. "Good source of light when lighting a fire isn't practical." The seller spoke with a sleezy grin.
Back at their gathering spot, AJ engulfed their purchases, his gelatinous body rippling as he dissolved each item. The etherium ore making his form flicker blue which Sam quickly wrote down in his notebook.
"The ore's tricky," he pulsed, extruding a tiny, imperfect copy onto the ground. "But the glowmelt is easy." A tendril stretched out, dropping a reconstructed vial into Sam's palm.
Victor tested the replica by pouring it onto a bit of wood. The glowmelt clung to the wood, illuminating its edge in a steady light. "Works as promised, very nice."
"Sam, could I get a page from your notebook?" AJ asked, his form rippling with curiosity. "Having a supply of paper could come in handy."
Sam glanced down at his notebook, flipping through the pages. "Sure," he said, tearing out a blank sheet from near the back. "I've gone through roughly half of the notebook, I may need a new one from you in the near future."
"Sure thing, remind me again when the time comes."
It was around midday, when the team shouldered their packs and made their way out of the camp. No farewells, no glances back—just another group of travellers vanishing into the wilds.
The continued north, leaving the river behind. The land rose in jagged steps towards the not so distant silhouette of Titan's Spire, its peaks clawing at the clouds.
Ethan walked point, his axe loose in his grip. "How long 'til we hit that dig site?"
Sam checked the map, muttering to himself as he traced the route. "Two days. Maybe three if the terrain's rough."
As dusk settled, they made camp amongst the moss-crusted boulders. AJ created a stone pot, and Lily simmered a stew of meat and foraged greens. The meal was nothing fancy, but no one complained.
Victor and Ethan took first watch. The others slept fitfully, their dreams threaded with half-formed visions of whispering shadows.