Chp. 23: Dark Market

Meriella's pov

Meriella journeyed through The Neo-Retro Market (A hub for vintage and futuristic goods) deep in The Undergrid.

Meriella carries an unspoken burden, having been the first human to possess this cybernetic appearance. Causing her to wear a hooded cape covering her enhanced body when coming to the Market, knowing in the past people would want to put her to death or get her to sell her body parts on the market.

Despite the years of Technology progression in Arcadia, she knew that many human with arguments and

enhanced humans parts were a norm now but nobody had a celestial energy orb core, and that made her rare. This was a place where people came to obtain all things rare.

The cool night air at the Neo-Retro Market was alive with the hum of nostalgia and innovation. The sky above was a deep shade of indigo, twinkling with stars that seemed to pulse in rhythm with the market's energetic vibe.

The air was crisp and clean, with a hint of smoke from the food vendors and the sweet scent of exotic spices wafting through the crowds.

The market itself was a marvel of contradictions, where vintage and futuristic goods coexisted in a swirling tapestry of color and sound.

Neon lights and holographic advertisements danced across the stalls, illuminating the eclectic wares on display. Rare, ancient artifacts sat alongside cutting-edge gadgets, and the patrons of the market seemed to revel in the eclectic atmosphere.

The crowd was a diverse, cosmopolitan mix of individuals from all walks of life. Cyber-enhanced mercenaries rubbed shoulders with steampunk inventors, while goth-inspired mystics sipped coffee with augmented reality artists.

The energy was electric, with a sense of possibility and discovery hanging in the air like a promise.

Amidst this vibrant throng, Meriella moved with a quiet purpose, her crimson hair hidden beneath the hood of her dark, flowing cape.

Her eyes gleamed with a hint of self- awareness as she navigated the crowded stalls, searching for a specific destination – the old tales fortune teller hub.

Rumors whispered that this mysterious hub held the secrets of the past, and Meriella was determined to uncover them.

As she walked, the shadows seemed to deepen around her, as if the very darkness itself was drawing her closer to her goal.

The air vibrated with anticipation, and Meriella's heart beat faster with every step, her senses heightened as she delved deeper into the heart of the Neo-Retro Market.

As Meriella wove through the crowded stalls, the neon lights and holographic advertisements began to fade, replaced by the soft glow of candles and the sweet scent of sandalwood.

The air grew thick with the whispers of ancient secrets, and Meriella's heart quickened with anticipation. She had been searching for what felt like hours, but finally, she stumbled upon a small, unassuming door hidden behind a tapestry of vintage silk.

The door itself was old and worn, adorned with strange symbols that seemed to shimmer in the dim light. A small, flickering candle hung above the entrance, casting eerie shadows on the walls. Meriella's fingers trembled as she reached out to grasp the rusty door handle. The door creaked open, revealing a narrow stairway that descended into darkness.

With a deep breath, Meriella stepped into the unknown, her eyes adjusting slowly to the dim light. The air was heavy with the scent of incense and old books, and the sound of soft chanting seemed to emanate from the very walls themselves.

At the bottom of the stairway, Meriella found herself in a small, cozy room filled with shelves upon shelves of ancient tomes and strange, glowing artifacts.

Seated behind a small, ornate table was an elderly woman with long hair that cascaded down her back like a river of moonlight. Her eyes twinkled with warmth and wisdom as she looked up from the book she was reading. A small, mischievous smile played on her lips as she beckoned Meriella closer.

"Welcome, child," the woman said, her voice like honey and smoke. "I am Poppy Margaret, and this is my humble abode. I sense that you have come seeking answers to questions you have not yet asked."

Meriella felt a shiver run down her spine as she approached the table, her eyes fixed on the woman's piercing gaze. "I'm looking for... guidance," Meriella said, her voice barely above a whisper.

She took the oracle scroll out and opened it before Poppy Margaret.

Poppy Margaret nodded, her eyes glinting with knowing. "Ah, guidance. A noble pursuit, indeed. Please, sit, and let us see what the threads of fate have in store for you."

As Meriella sat down, her hesitation was palpable, like a held breath. But before she could even process what was happening, Poppy Margaret's gaze fell upon the scroll, causing her calm demeanor to break.

She let out a blood-curdling scream, her eyes searing as if branded by an invisible iron the minute she placed her eyes on what was written on the scroll. The sound was unprecedented for Meriella - a primal, animalistic cry that caused her to shudder.

Poppy Margaret's body contorted in agony, her hands flying to her face as if to claw out the offending vision. Meriella was paralyzed with shock, her mind reeling with guilt and panic.

She frantically scanned the room for a solution, her eyes wild with desperation, and finally spotted a jug of water in the corner. She rushed to grab it, hoping to calm Poppy's eyes, but as she poured the liquid onto Poppy Margaret's face, the woman's screams grew even more piercing.

The water seemed to exacerbate the burning, and Poppy Margaret's cries turned to accusations: "Get out, get out, holy water user! Get out!"

Meriella's panic turned to blind fear as she scrambled to escape, grabbing the scroll and fleeing the scene with a sense of chaotic urgency, leaving behind the witch's anguished screams and the acrid smell of burned flesh.

As Meriella navigated the crowded stalls of the Neon-Retro Market, her footsteps were cautious, her senses on high alert, like a wild animal sensing danger. The vibrant colors and pulsating rhythms of the market seemed to mock her, a jarring contrast to the turmoil brewing inside.

Her mind was a maelstrom, a vortex of thoughts and emotions that threatened to consume her. The memory of Poppy Margaret's anguished screams and the woman's accusatory words - "holy water user" - echoed through her brain like a mantra of guilt.

As she walked, the events of the past few days replayed like a macabre dance in her mind's eye. Terrchel's kiss, his subsequent cold shoulder, Meraki's involvement with Terrchel, the horrors unfolding in Arcadia - all these images swirled together in a maddening whirlpool of confusion and pain and now, she felt like her own guilt was about to weigh her down.

If she hadn't sought out Poppy Margaret, if she hadn't brought that cursed scroll to the old women's doorstep, none of this would have happened. The burden of responsibility settled heavy on her shoulders, like a physical weight that bowed her head and slowed her steps.

Meriella's eyes, once bright with determination, now felt dull and lifeless, like two extinguished stars. All she wanted to do was help figure out what's going on.

Where her heart would have been, her celestial core once afire with purpose, now felt like a smoldering ember, threatened by the cold winds of despair. She disappeared into the crowd. She felt like a ghost haunting the fringes of her own life, searching for a way to redeem herself, to undo the damage she had done, and to find a way back to the light.

Her mind searched for means to remain calm and at peace and thoughts of seeing Terrchel flooded her mind. Knowing she really needed to talk to him right now and meet up! she decides to dial him, expecting speaking to him to calm her racing mind but instead the phone rings for a few minutes... she watches the swatche glowing light dialing.

But suddenly DECLINED pops up and her eyes well up with tears at seeing this.

Having nobody to turn to but the Undergrid hideout, Meriella heads straight home whilst her heart is filled with sadness thinking Terrchel is avoiding her after their kiss and filled with the horror of the vivid image of Poppy Margaret's screams brought on by her doing some how.

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