As the morning sunlight filtered through the inn's dusty windows, Layla mulled over the merchant's cryptic words. His gaze had been sharp, almost accusatory, as he'd warned her about the dangers of the town.
It wasn't the first time she'd been on the receiving end of a veiled threat, but something about his tone unsettled her. He wasn't just warning her out of spite—there was genuine fear behind his words.
Mary Ann leaned in slightly as the merchant walked away, her voice low. "Do you think he knows something?"
Raziel shrugged, his sharp eyes following the merchant until he disappeared into the crowd. "He knows enough to want us out of here. That's more than just local gossip."
Layla tapped her fingers lightly against the table, her expression contemplative. "It could be nothing. But if it's not…" She let the thought hang in the air, her companions understanding the unspoken implication.