Chapter 33: The Pier Market

Makun arrived at the port and waited for midnight.

The bench was cold. The air smelled like rust and brine. Distant waves lapped against the docks.

He checked the time. 11:47 PM.

Thirteen minutes.

He activated his Sight. Double-tapped his frontal lobe.

The particles appeared. Golden threads drifting through the air. Thicker here than anywhere else he’d been.

Then, at exactly midnight, he felt it.

A shift.

The frequency changed.

It was subtle. Like the air itself adjusted. The particles stopped drifting randomly and began to move in patterns. Currents. Flowing toward a single point ahead of him.

Last time, at Old Town Plaza, it had felt like reality cracked open. A seam splitting the world. The market had bled through like ink through wet paper.

This time, it was smoother. More controlled.

The air shimmered. Not violently. Just… differently.

And then the market was there.

Distant chatter shattered the present silence. Voices. Movement. The glow of lanterns and strange lights.

Stalls appeared. Containers. Figures moving between them.

Makun stood and walked forward.

Once again, in front of him was the same silver-masked guide who let him in last time.

The man stood with arms crossed. His mask reflected the faint moonlight. No expression. Just cold, polished silver.

“You are here.” His voice was flat. “Do not attract trouble this time again. You are warned.”

He scoffed. Then turned his attention elsewhere, paying no attention to Makun.

Makun could only sigh.

He wondered how the market worked.

If it opened at midnight, then why were there people here already? Selling stuff just as he entered?

Why was it that he always appeared in front of the same silver-masked guy?

By now, he could tell that people attending this market were not from Naija City. There probably was a mechanism to make this possible. A portal? A spatial fold? Something the book might explain later.

Shine.

A purple light glowed from the pendant he had worn around his neck.

Makun froze.

The pendant pulsed. Warm against his chest.

He knew immediately. The veiled lady was here. She was aware of his location.

He could also feel a brief resonance with something distant. As if he knew exactly where she was.

A pull. Faint but clear.

He started walking. At a leisure pace. Scanning the market.

It was totally different from Old Town.

At Old Town Plaza, it had been mainly stalls. People standing around. Simple. Compact.

But the market at the pier was bigger.

People still had stalls. Makun saw vendors selling goods similar to what was sold at Old Town. Charms. Herbs. Small vials of liquid. Bones. Talismans.

However, what he discovered was that there were new items he could not identify. Strange objects that seemed to come from the water. Shells that glowed faintly. Scales. Wet, leathery skins stretched over wooden frames. Jars filled with murky liquid and floating shapes.

What attracted his attention the most were the containers.

Different from the Old Town Plaza, where most things happened in open air, there were sea containers of various sizes here. Twenty-foot containers. Forty-foot containers. Some stacked two high.

Some had huge signs painted or mounted on their sides:

“RELICS & ARTIFACTS – APPRAISAL AVAILABLE”

“SOUL CONTRACTS – NEGOTIATION ONLY”

“DREAM CYCLE NAVIGATION – EXPERIENCED GUIDES”

“ENTITY BINDING – CONSULTATION FIRST”

As if they were established marketplaces. Permanent. Professional.

Others were more obsolete. Rusted. No signs. Barely lit.

However, not everyone had access to those.

Makun watched a man approach one of the larger containers. A guard stepped out. Checked something. Then let the man inside.

Do these belong to special guests? He thought.

Maybe these were available to people of higher status. Elite practitioners. People with money or reputation.

He really felt like he was in a city. However, a city hidden from normal people. Only accessible to mystics.

Makun strolled, following the resonance emitted by the pendant.

The purple glow pulsed faintly against his chest. Guiding him.

He passed more stalls. More containers. Figures in hoods and masks. Some glanced at him. Most didn’t.

At some point, he found himself standing in front of a thirty-foot-long, eight-foot-wide, nine-foot-high container.

The resonance stopped advancing.

The container was painted violet. Dark. Almost black in the dim light.

It was closed. But unlike standard containers, it had a small door. Human-sized. Wooden. Carved with faint symbols he didn’t recognize.

Obsolete. No lights. Nothing flashy. As if the person tried to be discreet.

Makun walked slowly toward the container. Raised his hand to knock.

Before his knuckles touched the door, it flung open.

“You came. Good. Enter.”

He heard the veiled lady’s soft but clear voice inviting him in.

Makun slowly walked inside.

The interior was nothing like the outside suggested.

It looked like an elegant, simple room.

Two couches. Low. Cushioned. Dark fabric. Positioned facing each other.

A luxurious table between them. Wooden. Polished. Smooth.

On the table, some of the goods she had at Old Town Plaza were laid out. Small vials. A deck of cards. A bundle of dried herbs tied with string. A crystal sphere the size of a fist.

An empty spot in the middle of the container. Open floor space. Clean.

And on the edge of the table, a small device he could not recognize. Metallic. Circular. With runes etched into its surface. It hummed faintly.

Makun scanned the inside of the container. It looked like an apartment. Compact but comfortable.

Then he looked at the veiled lady.

Her silver necklace was still in place. Thin chains hanging across her chest and shoulders. They caught the light, glinting faintly.

Last time, he could not get a good look at her figure.

But now that he looked at her, she was pretty.

She stood at five foot eight. Tall. Athletic.

Fair skin. Smooth. Almost luminous in the dim light.

Dark eyes. Deep. Unreadable.

A bountiful cleavage. Her clothing was fitted. Not provocative, but not modest either. Practical. Elegant.

An athletic physique. Makun was sure she took good care of her body. Strong. Disciplined.

He got a good look at her.

Then shook his head.

No time for distractions.

“Are you ready to pay?” she said.

Her voice was calm. Measured.

She sat on one of the couches. Gestured to the other.

Makun sat.

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