The Thread That Tugs

The still-sky above the city hadn't changed, but something in Silas had. Maybe it was the festival's echo still ringing faintly in his chest, or the warm conversation with Cass the day before. Or maybe it was the simple sense of normalcy returning.

Cass had promised to meet them near the cathedral's outer gate. He was early, of course—leaning casually against the cold stone arch with his cloak pulled tight, light-path rings faintly shimmering beneath his sleeves. His smile widened when he saw Silas and Velira approach.

"Thought you two might back out," he said, teasing.

Velira raised an eyebrow. "You invited us to the effigy market, not the Underworld."

Cass grinned and led them through the winding side paths that bordered the cathedral's grounds. These alleys weren't meant for public passage—Silas could tell by how few footsteps echoed here. They were clean, marked with faint Light-path sigils, and guarded by effigies that didn't look humanoid at all. One passed overhead, winged and formless, a shimmer of gold trailing behind it like mist.

"This route's restricted," Cass said quietly. "But I've got clearance for the day. The market's inside the inner walls today—special cathedral permit. Rare finds only."

Silas didn't respond. Something in the air already had his attention.

---

They arrived at what looked, at first glance, like a small, open courtyard—but it was anything but small. Stone steps led down into a sunken ring of archways and vendor stalls, each one glowing faintly with magical energy. The people here moved slowly, deliberately. There was no haggling. No shouting. Just quiet observation and careful transaction.

The effigy market was like nothing Silas had ever seen—long rows of tents, clanking metal, glowing stones in locked cabinets, sigil-inscribed gloves hung like charms from overhead strings. It stretched across a broken bridge repurposed for commerce, with lanterns hanging above like stars trapped in glass. The air buzzed with trades, haggles, and enchantments gone slightly wrong.

Cass walked confidently at the front, chatting with one of the Cathedral officials who'd given them clearance. Silas and Velira followed a little behind, exchanging occasional looks. Cass had changed, but he hadn't forgotten them.

"They're not selling any complete effigies," Velira noted as she walked beside Silas.

"Of course not," Silas replied. "Too valuable. This place is more for parts and materials… maybe oddities."

Cass turned back with a grin. "And you're here for oddities, aren't you?"

They passed a booth with sound crystals pulsing faintly, another with stitched flesh-metal hybrids. Silas felt both out of place and curious. It wasn't the grandeur that called to him—but something deeper.

Then, in a half-collapsed tent near the back, he felt it.

Not heard. Not seen.

Felt.

A tug—gentle, but insistent.

Drawn, he stepped inside. The merchant barely glanced at him, sitting cross-legged behind his table. Most of the items were junk or too expensive for a novice to afford. But at the center, half-covered in dust, was a small amulet.

Circular. Blackened silver. A glassy stone at its heart that shimmered like smoke trapped in amber like a thing with no beginning or end.

The moment Silas looked at it, the pull became undeniable.

He picked it up.

The merchant looked up, eyes barely flickering with interest. "Strange thing, that. Found it during a clearance of old vault goods. Doesn't respond to most talents. Not even the Sound or Fire attuned could make it hum."

Silas said nothing. He felt something. It didn't hum. It whispered.

Cass leaned in. "You want it?"

Silas hesitated. "I don't have enough points."

Cass smiled. "Then borrow from me. Consider it a gift."

He tried to protest, but Cass waved him off. "If it calls to you, take it."

The merchant gave it away for far less than Silas expected. Almost no one else had shown interest in it. Perhaps they couldn't feel what he could.

It didn't blaze with power. It didn't shimmer with light.

But it felt true.

He hung it around his neck as they walked. It rested cold against his chest, pulsing like a second heartbeat.

Velira glanced at it. "Another cursed trinket?"

"Probably," Silas said with a small grin. "But I like cursed things."

Cass just laughed.

None of them realized it then—but something old had taken notice.

And it was watching.