'That was weird, what happened with that woman by the carriage depot,' Nightmare said through Link into Seth's mind, muffling the noise of the crowd around them. 'That, and how you told me to kill those nobles last month when we got attacked… I'm telling you, that Feral Instinct thing is changing you. It's turning you into a fierce beast.'
'I'm sure you'd love it if that were true,' Seth muttered as he wove through a slow-moving cluster of merchants.
One thing immediately struck him here in Oskon: the stark contrast between the haves and have-nots was even more glaring than in Trogan.
Merchants, draped in fine jewels and vibrant silks, laughed and bartered behind stalls overflowing with goods, while just a few steps away were people huddled or slumped against walls in clothes that were nothing more than rags, hidden in the shadows of the buildings. A few trembling, outstretched hands emerged from the hallways, begging silently for coins… or simply a scrap of food.
They must have hiked the taxes here too, Seth thought grimly. Memories of Sunatown's people struggling because of the Faertis flashed through his mind.
As he navigated through the throng, he continued his mental conversation with Nightmare. 'Anyway, even if that were the case, it's not like I could do anything about it. Toren and Yline said acquiring a Legacy was like selling your soul to the devil… That doesn't sound like something I can reverse.'
'That's a good thing, though,' the direwolf replied without a hint of concern. 'The more feral you become, the less time we'll spend in cities instead of hunting. I'll have to remember to thank that Kreytorus guy.'
Seth rolled his eyes, sidestepping a murky puddle on the cobblestones. 'I'm pretty sure he isn't still alive. From the way Toren talked, Legacies come from people who were extremely powerful and died ages ago.'
Nightmare tilted his head inside the teardrop necklace. 'Weren't humans supposed to live longer with each Tier breakthrough?'
'Yeah, but there must be a limit to that longevity boost. I've never heard of anyone living for five hundred years.'
'That doesn't mean anything. You'd never heard of Draeria, or that NEVAK thing, or pocket-realms,' Nightmare scoffed. 'This country of yours hides so much knowledge, I'm sure there are plenty of things you aren't aware of.'
'I know,' Seth answered, his eyes scanning the endless rows of shops and stalls, searching for a place that might sell rare resources—like a Darkness Essence. 'By the way, it's your country too. You were born in the Wicked Forest, after all.'
'Nah, beasts don't have countries,' Nightmare retorted dismissively. 'Right, Colossus?'
The large scorpion shifted from his resting position and uncurled beside the Heart of Brown Peak Mountain within his teardrop. 'No,' he answered with a thought. 'But they have family. Like our family.'
Nightmare's head shook violently. 'No! This is a pack. With me… and, I guess Seth too as leaders.'
'No,' Colossus repeated without an ounce of hesitation. 'Family.'
As the two of them went back and forth, Seth continued to scrutinize the stores lining the street, a small, genuine smile tugging at his lips. Having lost every member of his own family, the stubborn insistence from the giant scorpion stirred something within him.
Seth persisted in his search and walked deeper into the market's heart, eyes tracing the signs and peering occasionally into the windows to look at the crafts of some Blacksmiths, Enchanters, and Artificers. After pushing past the main thoroughfares, he ventured into narrower side streets where the buildings were older and less well-maintained. Just as he was about to lose hope and give up for the evening, a particular storefront down the quiet, shadowed lane caught his eye.
It was a narrow, two-story building, wedged between a shady tavern and what seemed to be an abandoned bookbinder. The place's fa?ade was built from a dark, almost black timber that seemed to absorb the light; the windows of the ground floor were made of smoked purple glass, which hid everything of the interior. A simple, unadorned sign of polished obsidian hung above the door, the name carved in elegant, silver script listing it as: The Tenebrous Corner.
Tenebrous, Seth thought. Like Tenebrous Direwolf.
Maybe he'd find what he was looking for in there.
Taking a steadying breath, Seth pushed open the dark wood door. A small, tarnished bell chimed softly, then the sound was immediately swallowed by a profound silence. He stepped inside and the door swung shut behind him, plunging him into a gloomy world that contrasted deeply from the cacophonic streets of Oskon.
The air was cool and thick, layered with the scent of old parchments, sweet incense, and the sharp smell of burned herbs. The store was larger than it appeared from the outside, the long, narrow interior packed from floor to ceiling. Shelves were overflowing with various goods: labeled jars containing things that floated in murky liquid, oddly shaped beaststones that pulsed with faint lights, stacks of leather-bound tomes whose titles were written in languages Seth didn't recognize, and much more.
The dark corners seemed to twist and writhe just at the edge of his vision as the weak glow from the few lanterns inside cast long shadows that made the objects on display look almost alive.
Behind the long counter of polished, ebonized wood on the right stood a man. He was tall and unnervingly thin, with a pale face dominated by a sharp nose and eyes so dark they seemed to be pupils without irises. His long, ink-black hair was pulled back in a tight tail, and he wore a high-collared dark robe that seemed more suited for a funeral than shopkeeping. He was polishing a large beast skull with a soft cloth and didn't even look up as Seth approached.
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Seth cleared his throat, the sound overly loud in the oppressive quiet of the place. "Excuse me, sir."
The man put the skull down with reverent care, then turned his head slowly. His dark eyes locked on Seth, and a thin, unsettling smile touched his lips. "A new customer. A rare treat. What shadow has guided you to this humble corner of the world, young man?"
"I'm looking for a Darkness Essence," Seth said, getting straight to the point. "In good condition. One that's been properly harvested."
The man's thin smile vanished, replaced by a skeptical expression. He looked Seth up and down, his gaze lingering on his academy uniform for a moment. "A Primalist," he then stated drily. "Seeking the pure shadow? A curious, and I must say highly unlikely, request from someone of your class. The children of the wild do not typically walk that Path."
Seth immediately felt annoyed. The man hadn't even asked to Identify him, and on top of that, he was already dismissing him based on his class. Seth kept his face a neutral mask, resisting the urge to snap back. "My circumstances are… unique."
"They would have to be," the shopkeeper said, leaning forward, his dark eyes boring into Seth's. "A Darkness Essence is not to be bought on a whim. It is a font of sacred power, a key to unlocking profound knowledge. Its stewardship is not for the unworthy or the dilettante. You will have to show me."
Why does he have to talk like that? Seth thought, stopping himself from pinching his nose. "Show you what, sir?"
"Your affinity," the man hissed, a sudden, fanatical gleam in his eyes. He reached under the counter and retrieved a flat crystal pad set in a frame of what looked like fused bone. The middle part was identical to the one Professor Storm had used in Seth's Aether Affinity class.
Seth hesitated for only a second before stepping forward and placing his palm flat on the cold tablet surface. He closed his eyes before letting aether leave his Well and flow down his arm into the artifact.
Two pillars of light rose from the pad's surface. One was a deep, roiling column of pure, light-swallowing darkness, while the second was a shorter pillar made of a softer hazel light.
The shopkeeper's eyes widened and his thin body jolted as if struck. His gaze was fixed on the pillar of shadow. "High-Iron Darkness affinity as a Mid-Iron…" he muttered under his breath. "Such purity… at such a young age… and as a Primalist." He then glanced at the other brown glow—his face twisted into a frown of pure disdain. "But it is tainted. Polluted by this… earthy thing."
He looked up at Seth, the zealous gleam in his eyes returning full force along with his unsettling eccentricity. "You must put that secondary affinity aside. Focus only on the shadow. It is the true Path to power. The earth is mud and stone, a foundation for the weak. Darkness is the primordial canvas, the truth that existed before light. You must not dilute such a gift!"
Seth pulled his hand back, the lights fading, then seized the occasion. "But it's hard to train the Darkness," he lied, feigning a look of frustration on his face. "It isn't as easy to find in the wild as the other affinity. It always feels… distant. That's why I need the Essence. To improve my knowledge and grow a stronger connection with it."
The shopkeeper's demeanor softened, and he nodded slowly. "Ah. A common struggle for the few of us. The shadow is a demanding mistress and does not yield its secrets easily." He suddenly straightened up. "You have come to the right place, young Primalist. For someone who carries such a virtuous burden, I have precisely what you seek."
With a quick spin, the man turned and walked toward the back of the shop, where he disappeared behind a heavy, velvet curtain. A moment later he returned, carrying a small, ornate box made of the same ebonized wood as the counter. After placing it down, he flipped its lid open.
Inside, nestled on a bed of black silk, was a jar. It was crafted from a strange, smoky quartz that seemed to ripple and shift and was sealed with a complex stopper of polished silver and obsidian. Within was a liquid so dark Seth felt a chill crawl up his spine, as if the void itself were staring back at him. A palpable aura of power radiated from it.
"Tears of Ebon Snakes," the shopkeeper whispered, his voice trembling with emotion. "Properly contained within a Stasis Jar. It will not degrade, so it will nourish your affinity for years…"
Not wasting a second, Seth cast Intermediate Identify.
"As a discipline of the Darkness, I cannot sell this beauty for less than a gold coin," the man added.
Seth's breath hitched. It was his entire fortune—minus seven silvers. Everything he'd earned from the beast hunts, everything he'd looted from the Black Hounds, and everything he'd taken from the nobles who'd ambushed him. All of it, for this one item that was only Iron… while Colossus' Essence was Gold.
'That's a fair price,' Nightmare said through their bond. 'Let's take it.'
'It's pretty much everything we have,' Seth retorted, almost grimacing. As much as he wanted it for Nightmare, the cost was staggering. 'We should search for another one to compare and then decide.'
'In which shop?' the direwolf retorted. 'You were basically about to give up before finding this one.'
Seeing the conflict on Seth's face, the shopkeeper seemed to reconsider. He spoke up before Seth could make a decision. "You are the first Primalist with a Darkness affinity I have seen in this city for nearly a decade," he said. "It is a sign. I will not haggle on the price: its value is absolute. However…” He reached under the counter again. "To aid you on your Path, I will add this. A gift, to ensure your potential is not wasted."
The man placed a small, dark crystal the size of his palm on the counter. "This is from a Shade Stalker. A rare and exceptionally cruel beast that lived in the Shadow Plains at the north of the Bridan Empire," he explained. "The spell it grants is unusual, but extremely powerful. It generates an aura. An aura of pure, unadulterated fear. Most you use it on will find their courage failing, their movements growing sluggish, their spells faltering before they can even be cast in its presence. A perfect tool for one who walks the Path of Darkness."
Almost simultaneously, Seth pushed aether into Intermediate Identify's grooves.
He immediately focused on the three dots to see the additional information.
Before he could even begin to weigh the offer, Nightmare's voice boomed through Link.
'Buy it! Buy it now, Seth! You always spend money on yourself. For once, it is my turn! Please! Give that weird man the damn gold coin!'
Seth let out a long, quiet sigh in response to the direwolf's tantrum, then met the shopkeeper's gaze.
"I'll take them."
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