Whispers in the market

The Underground Market was more alive than usual tonight. Flickering torches lined the narrow stone paths, casting long shadows over the labyrinthine alleys filled with merchants peddling everything from elixirs to enchanted trinkets. The air hummed with the smell of spices and damp earth, laced with a current of magical energy that Zia could practically taste.

She kept her hood pulled low, moving like a shadow through the crowd, her senses on high alert. The amulet she had stolen—and the spirit bound to it—seemed to pulse against her chest, like a heartbeat. Zia knew that her mission tonight was risky. Madame Seraphine's agents were known to patrol these corridors, especially with rumors that the amulet had gone missing. Yet, the risk was necessary. She had to secure supplies and information, and the market was the only place to find both.