Chapter 15: Marked

The man charged.

Flying toward the veiled lady.

But as he closed the distance, something changed.

A force crushed his neck.

His body jerked mid-air, propelled downward like an invisible hand had slammed him into the ground.

His head hit the cobblestone.

CRACK!

The stone shattered.

Cracks spiderwebbed out from the impact point. Blood pooled immediately, dark against the pale stone.

On the side, with his new vision, Makun clearly saw it.

Silver energy shaped like a sword had struck the man at the back of the neck.

For the first time tonight, Makun sighed.

Relief flooded through him.

He knew the lady was just gambling at this point. If the situation turned bad, she could just abandon him. Walk away. Let him deal with the consequences.

But this silver energy meant something else.

The guardian. The silver masked man. He’d reacted.

Enforcing the rules of the market on the tall man.

Footsteps approached.

The masked figure walked from the direction Makun had entered. His movements were smooth, unhurried. Like nothing about this situation surprised him.

“Fighting is not allowed in our markets.” His voice was calm. Absolute. “If you have things to settle, do it once you leave.”

He turned to look at Makun.

“New one. You came and brought trouble on your first visit. You’re lucky you weren’t the one to cause it, else you would have been dead.”

His tone left no room for doubt.

“Nothing of the sort in the future.”

Makun nodded quickly.

Yeah sure. I’m pretty sure I’m gonna have worse with how things go for me in this life.

But he kept that thought to himself.

The silver mask turned to the veiled lady.

“Esteemed guest. I know the situation demanded your intervention. However, please, next time for such important trades, get contacts and carry the exchange outside our market.”

The lady nodded slowly.

Acknowledgment without apology.

The masked man looked back at the tall man on the ground. Blood still dripped from his mouth. His eyes were glazed but conscious.

“Zack York.” The name carried weight. “You’re a regular here. You know the rules. You know not to trespass them. Yet your greed took over and you dared cause ruckus in our market.”

He paused.

“For that, you are going to be punished.”

He turned toward some empty stalls at the edge of the plaza.

“Guards. Arrest him.”

Swoosh. Swoosh.

Two silver masked men appeared out of the empty stalls. Materialized like they’d been standing there invisible the whole time.

They grabbed Zack by the arms. Dragged him across the cobblestones.

Blood flowed from his mouth, leaving a dark trail.

Zack didn’t resist. Couldn’t resist. Whatever the silver sword energy had done to him, it had broken something.

As they dragged him past Makun, Zack’s eyes focused.

Just for a second.

He spat.

Blood splattered on the cobblestones near Makun’s feet.

It looked normal. Just blood.

But from that blood, something moved.

Small. Barely visible. It detached from the puddle and stuck to Makun’s shoe.

No one seemed to notice.

Except.

The silver masked man’s head tilted slightly. His eyes tracked the movement.

He noticed.

But he said nothing. Did nothing.

Maybe even the veiled lady noticed. Her eyes lingered on Makun’s feet for just a fraction too long.

But she too stayed silent.

Makun was now marked by Zack. Something to track him. Find him later.

And everyone who could’ve warned him chose not to.

The guards dragged Zack away into the shadows. His body left a dark smear across the plaza.

The masked man turned back to Makun and the veiled lady.

“The market is closing soon. Prepare to depart.”

His meaning was clear.

For her: start packing.

For Makun: find your way out.

Then the masked man walked away, footsteps fading into silence.

Makun and the veiled lady stood alone.

Makun turned to her. Bowed slightly.

“Thanks for helping.”

The lady smiled beneath her veil.

As if she hadn’t been gambling with his life just moments earlier.

“It was nothing. We rightfully traded the book.”

Makun straightened. “How should I contact you next time I come to the market?”

The lady reached into her robes. Pulled out a pendant.

Simple design. Silver chain. Small stone in the center that caught the lamplight.

She handed it to him.

“Wear this pendant next week when you come here. I’ll be aware. I’ll track you down.”

She paused.

“Make sure you come. If not, then…”

Silence.

The threat hung in the air, unspoken but clear.

“It was nice trading with you.” Her voice softened slightly.

She bent down, started packing her items. The bowls of ash. The dried plants. The bones and stones.

Everything disappeared into bags faster than seemed natural.

She looked at him once more.

“Use the book well. It’s very precious. And if what you offer me is as valuable as what you told me, then I’m going to grant you three answers to whatever questions you have.”

Then she ignored him.

Focused entirely on her packing.

Makun took the hint.

He turned, started walking back toward the plaza entrance.

Around him, the market was dissolving.

The energy was getting fainter. Stalls disappeared. Vendors vanished into shadows that shouldn’t exist.

People disappeared.

At the end, he was alone.

Standing in the silent plaza he’d seen before entering the market. Empty cobblestones. Broken fountain that didn’t run water.

No lamps. No hooded figures. No impossible stalls.

Just an abandoned square in the middle of Old Town.

Makun stood there, book clutched to his chest.

Making him ask himself: was everything that happened on the same street? Were the people he met from different areas? Did they all exist in the same reality?

He raised his head. Looked at the dark sky.

4 AM.

Dawn was still an hour away.

What the fuck am I in?

What the fuck happened to me today?

What is all of this?

He sighed.

The book was heavy in his hands.

Real. Solid.

Whatever else had happened tonight, at least he had this.

Information. Knowledge. Answers.

Maybe.

He looked down at the worn leather cover.

The Goal of a Mystic.

Time to find out if it was worth everything he’d just gone through.

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