Chapter 7: The Witch’s Market

Kena woke up by the stream, her back stiff from sleeping on the hard ground. The sky was purple again, just like it had been every morning since she got here.

The air felt cool against her skin, and she shivered a little as she opened her eyes. Nearby, Hope stood by the water, sharpening his sword with a smooth gray stone.

The scrape-scrape sound cut through the quiet, pulling her out of her sleepy haze. She blinked a few times, trying to shake off the fog in her head.

"Morning," she said, her voice rough.

She pushed herself up to sit, feeling the ache in her muscles. Her jacket was still dirty from days of walking and sleeping outside.

Mud and grass stains covered it, but she didn't care anymore. Her hair was a tangled mess, sticking out in all directions. She ran her fingers through it once, then gave up.

Hope glanced over at her and nodded. "We're close to a market," he said, his voice calm as always.

He kept working on his sword, the stone sliding along the blade. "We can get some food there and maybe ask about him."

He tilted his head toward the pocket of her jacket, where she kept the photo.

Kena reached into her pocket and pulled out the crumpled picture. She stared at the man's face—sharp eyes, dark hair, a frown that looked permanent.

She didn't know who he was, not really, but he was her only clue to getting home.

"Good," she said, tucking the photo back in. "I'm so tired of eating berries and that watery stew you make."

She stood up, brushing dirt off her pants with quick, rough swipes. "Let's go."

They started walking, following the stream as it flowed downhill. The water was clear, bubbling over rocks and making a soft, steady sound.

Kena's boots crunched on the ground, and Hope's steps were quieter beside her.

The stream grew wider as they went, turning into a shallow river that sparkled under the strange purple sky.

On the other side, Kena spotted something—tents and stalls, their bright colors popping against the green grass.

Red, blue, and yellow fabric flapped in the wind, and she could hear voices now, laughing and shouting.

Smoke curled up from little fires, and the smell of roasted meat floated over to her. Her stomach growled loud enough for Hope to hear.

"A market?" she asked, looking at him.

"Yes," Hope said, stepping closer to the river's edge. "A witch's market. Be careful what you touch, Kena."

"Witches?" She raised an eyebrow, crossing her arms. "Like that old woman who cursed me and sent me here?"

"Maybe," Hope said, his voice steady. "They trade magic in this place. Some of them are nice. Some aren't. Just watch yourself."

Kena shrugged. "As long as they've got food, I don't care who they are."

She stepped into the river, her boots splashing in the cold water. It soaked the bottom of her pants, but she kept going.

Hope followed behind her, his long cloak dragging in the current, the dark green fabric turning even darker where it got wet.

When they reached the other side, the market hit her all at once. It was loud and wild, full of noise and movement.

Stalls lined the dirt path, packed with strange things she'd never seen before.

There were glowing stones that pulsed with light, bottles filled with purple liquid that shimmered, and feathers that twitched and floated on their own.

A woman with three eyes—one in the middle of her forehead—waved a fan at Kena as they passed.

"Buy a breeze, girl?" she called out, her voice high and sharp. Kena didn't even look at her, just kept walking.

A man with no teeth grinned at her from another stall. He held up a small cage, and inside it was a tiny dragon, no bigger than a bird.

It hissed and spat little blue sparks that fizzled in the air. "Pet for sale!" he shouted, shaking the cage.

Kena stopped for a second, staring at the creature. Its scales were shiny, and its eyes glowed like embers.

But she shook her head and moved on. She wasn't here for pets, no matter how weird or cool they were.

Hope slowed down at a stall covered with maps. The seller was a tall witch with silver hair that fell past her shoulders.

Her nose was crooked, bending to one side, and when she smiled, her teeth looked sharp, like a cat's.

"Lost, are you?" she asked, leaning forward on her elbows.

"We need a map to the Golden City," Hope said.

He reached into his pocket and pulled out a gold coin. It glinted as he set it on the table with a soft clink.

The witch snatched the coin fast, her long fingers curling around it. She handed Hope a rolled-up piece of paper in return.

"This'll get you there," she said, her voice low and scratchy. "But watch out for soldiers. They don't like strangers poking around."

Kena stepped up and pulled the photo from her pocket again. She held it out, shoving it close to the witch's face.

"What about him?" she asked. "Do you know him?"

The witch leaned in, squinting at the picture. Her eyes narrowed, and she tilted her head.

"Looks like a Veldric," she said after a moment. "Royal blood, that one. Lives in the Golden City. Hard to reach, I'd say."

Kena groaned, letting her hand drop. "Everyone keeps saying that," she muttered, annoyed.

The witch let out a laugh, a loud cackling sound that made Kena's skin prickle.

"Truth's truth, girl," she said, still grinning. "Got anything to trade?"

Kena frowned, crossing her arms. "For what?"

"Information," the witch said, tapping a finger on the table. "I know more about your prince. Give me something shiny, and I'll tell you."

Kena's hand went to the necklace she wore—a thin silver chain her mom had given her years ago.

It wasn't fancy, just a cheap little thing, but it was all she had on her. She didn't even like it that much.

With a quick tug, she yanked it off her neck and tossed it to the witch. "Here," she said. "Talk."

The witch caught the chain in midair, her sharp nails clicking against it. She held it up, letting it dangle, then grinned wider.

"His name's Justice Veldric," she said. "Prince of the Golden City. Cold as ice, that one. Hates everyone, pretty much. Good luck getting close to him."

Kena's stomach sank, heavy like a rock. "Great," she muttered, kicking at the dirt. "A jerk prince. Just what I need."

Hope folded the map and tucked it under his arm. He nodded at the witch. "Thanks," he said, his tone polite but short.

He grabbed Kena's arm and pulled her away before she could say anything snappy back to the witch.

They kept walking, deeper into the market. The smells got stronger, and Kena's nose picked up something good—sizzling meat, hot and fresh.

She turned her head and saw a stall with wooden sticks lined up over a fire, each one loaded with chunks of meat.

Juices dripped into the flames, making them hiss. Her mouth watered so much she had to swallow hard.

"Food," she said, pointing at the stall. "Now."

Hope didn't argue. He walked over and handed the meat seller two small coins from his pocket.

The seller, a gruff man with a patchy beard, gave them each a skewer. Kena grabbed hers and bit into it fast.

The meat was hot, juicy, and perfect. Grease ran down her chin, but she didn't care. "This is amazing," she said, her mouth full as she chewed.

Hope ate his slower, quieter. His mask covered the bottom half of his face, like always, and Kena watched him, curious.

"How do you eat with that thing on?" she asked, pointing her skewer at him.

"I manage," he said.

His eyes crinkled at the corners, and she knew he was smiling under there. She rolled her eyes and took another bite.

They found a bench nearby and sat down, eating and watching the market around them.

A juggler stood a few feet away, tossing glowing balls into the air. When they hit the ground, they let out little screams, sharp and quick.

Kena flinched the first time, then laughed. A girl with wings—real wings, feathery and white—walked by, selling flowers that hummed soft tunes.

Kena shook her head, still chewing. "This place is crazy," she said.

"It's Velmoria," Hope said, like he always did when she pointed out something weird.

"Yeah, yeah," Kena said, waving him off.

She finished her meat and wiped her greasy hands on her pants.

"So, Justice Veldric," Kena said. "Prince. Cold. Sounds like a real winner, huh?"

"He's your way home," Hope said, his voice firm.

Kena sighed, long and loud. "I know," she said. "Doesn't mean I have to like it." She stood up, brushing crumbs off her jacket. "Let's get out of here."

Hope folded the map again and got to his feet. "One more thing," he said.

He walked over to a stall piled with cloaks and talked to the seller for a moment. He came back with a dark green cloak, just like his, and handed it to Kena.

"Wear this," he said. "It'll help later."

Kena took it, surprised. She swung it over her shoulders, and it settled around her, warm and soft against her skin.

"Thanks," she mumbled, not looking at him.

She didn't say anything else, but she felt a little less mad at him for once.

They left the market behind, the noise and smells fading as they walked away. The path ahead was rocky, winding through hills toward the Golden City.

Kena held the photo tight in her hand, her fingers pressing into the edges. She thought about Justice Veldric—cold, mean, royal.

She didn't know how she'd get a kiss from someone like that, but she'd figure it out. She had to. It was her only way back home.