The morning was cool, and the sky above the trees hung low with mist.The fire from the night before had died down to faint coals, but Camdyn coaxed them back to life with careful hands and a bit of dry bark. It was quiet, save for the crackle of embers and the subtle chirr of insects in the distance.

  Camdyn chewed a strip of tough jerky, tearing it slowly with his teeth while Flora sat nearby, eating a handful of berries and wild greens she’d gathered before sunrise. Meanwhile, Saelune perched on a fallen log off to the side, head tilted as she cracked open an egg with sharp nails and drank from its shell.

  “I guess you’re not worried about Salmonella.” Camdyn said, eying as Saelune downed another egg.

  She shrugged. “Takes too many options off the menu. Besides, humans as a whole have always been, in my opinion, weak and picky.”

  “Weak, maybe. But picky? I think we just respect our taste palettes too much.”

  “Is that why you’re eating a tire?” she asked, referencing his meal.

  “Touche,” he smirked, “But I’ll have you know we’ve gotten pretty good with seasoning over the years.”

  She snorted. “I’ll take my chances with the Salmonella.”

  Camdyn gently nudged his shoulder into Flora, she’d been distant.

  “What’s on your mind?”

  “Do you really wanna open that can of worms?” Saelune muttered.

  “The second half of the Blade.” Flora answered.

  “Right.” He sat back a little. “Let’s discuss it then.”

  They had agreed to wait until they’d woken up more and gotten something in their stomachs, but clearly, it hadn’t left Flora’s mind.

  Camdyn tossed the last bit of jerky into his mouth and wiped his hands on his trousers. “So, we’ve found the half belonging to man,” he recapped, “Where would the supernaturals keep their half?”

  “Not where,” Flora corrected softly. “Who. Unlike your kind, we never forgot. We understood the Covenant Blade would have to be guarded; kept safe from grasping hands and wandering eyes.”

  “It changed hands over the years too,” Saelune added. “Mostly to keep it from worming into people’s heads. The last clan to officially possess it were the elves but they didn’t exactly survive extinction. When magic went, they went with it and the Blade was left up for grabs. The rest is rumors and tall-tales.”

  Flora’s gaze lowered, her voice edged with bitterness. “One would think the Sirins would know. Yet they remain… curiously unaware of certain truths.”

  Saelune’s jaw tightened. “We are keepers of known truths. Y’know, written knowledge. Recorded history. Stuff like that. Whoever stole the Blade thought better than to broadcast that they did it.”

  “Wouldn’t that mean that pretty much anyone could have it then?” Camdyn asked.

  “Not necessarily. I’d say they’d have to be pretty powerful to hold onto such an item.”

  “Hopefully powerful and not evil,” he mumbled.

  “If they were evil,” Flora said evenly, “we’d likely already be living with the consequences.”

  He nodded. “So who tops the list? Who are the most formidable entities?”

  “The Ancients, but they are more myth than anything. There are also the lesser dragons. Basilisks. Sea Beasts—”

  “Please no more sea quests.” Saelune groaned, dragging her hood over her eyes.

  “Wait, dragons?” Camdyn turned to Flora. “Those are real? How have we never seen one?”

  I mean, people drew them constantly,” Saelune said. “Nearly every culture has some version. Crude or not.”

  “I mean in recent history. In the before-times leading up to the Collapse.”

  “Because they went into hibernation like everything else,” Saelune replied. “Maybe they were among the last to go, but they still went.”

  “But where?”

  “The volcanos.” Flora replied. “The larger lie silent beneath the magma. Others took to the Crags.”

  “It’s probably best to let sleeping dogs lie. They have some anger management issues and that’s coming from someone with anger management issues.” Saelune added.

  Camdyn hesitated, glancing between them. “...Do they like gold? Like in the stories?”

  “If you’re talking about the big guys, they like full bellies and beauty sleep,” Saelune said dryly. “And they demand a lot of both. If they hoard gold, it’s only because they’re drawn to the things that like gold.”

  “And what about blades?”

  “You are really stuck on this dragon thing.” she muttered, almost impressed by his stubbornness. “They’re giant sky-lizards, Camdyn. The only thing they’d do with a blade is pick their teeth with it after they’re done with you.”

  “It may not be about power at all,” Flora said softly. “Beasts can be slaughtered. Man has done it before. But cleverness… wisdom… that’s harder to kill.”

  “True,” Saelune agreed. “A lot of the beasties are intimidating in presence, but half of them are dumb as rocks. Just muscle and instinct. If that’s the case, whoever has it would be just as ancient, but maybe a little less flashy.”

  “So, it would be kept with intellectuals…” Camdyn mused. “What about the Sirins? Isn’t your kind revered for their wisdom? And if I’m not mistaken, you are an ancient order.”

  Saelune was quick to shut him down. “We don’t have it.”

  He glanced at her. “How do you know? Maybe one of the Elders—”

  She let out a dry breath, not quite a sigh. “Because I do.”

  A pause stretched.

  This content has been misappropriated from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere.

  Camdyn opened his mouth again, but she cut him off with a sharp look. “Don’t.”

  Flora raised an eyebrow, but said nothing. The fire crackled between them.

  “Alright,” Camdyn muttered, backing off. “No Sirins.”

  “Sylvandros. Keeper of memory.” Flora offered, picking up the thread.

  “The old faceless tree-being?”

  “Yes, he bears the wisdom of the ages.”

  “And burns easy.” Saelune added dryly. “Hardly someone I’d entrust with a relic.”

  Flora narrowed her eyes. “I wouldn’t trust anyone you’d entrust a relic with.”

  “How about a Whimling?” she grinned.

  “Six, legged feline with an ever-shifting appearance.” Flora explained for Camdyn’s sake. “More mischievous than helpful. More cunning than wise. They live for games. Trickery, not guidance. Certainly not for the greater good.”

  “Sounds perfect for the job.”

  “Sounds like someone who’d lead you to believe they had it just to waste your time.” Camdyn countered, before turning to Flora. “What about the Merrows? You told me they were intelligent.”

  “What part of ‘no more sea quests’ did you not understand?” Saelune protested.

  “Can’t rule it out just because you're seasick.”

  Flora considered. “They are an advanced order. Capable of guarding such an item. Plentiful… and proud.”

  “They’re also vain and full of themselves. Sound familiar?” Saelune asked, shooting a look at Flora. “If they had it, they’d let everyone and their mothers know.”

  “We are not vain.” Flora said slowly, each word deliberate and firm.

  “Does beg the question though…” Camdyn continued, leaning forward, “Would the Forest Nymphs hold on to it? Your people would be good for the job. Selfless. A good judge of character. You’d definitely know how to defend your own if the situation called for it.”

  “It is not who we are.”

  “Not even if it helped preserve the Balance?” Camdyn pressed, watching her carefully.

  She met his gaze, steady. “We don’t hold onto material things. Even without ill intent, it plants a seed. A seed that may take root in darker soil. Possession breeds desire. And desire… breeds corruption.”

  “Just had to check,” he replied, tone lightening.

  “Nymphs are too passive for the task anyway.” Saelune mumbled.

  “Says the one who was content in letting the world burn.” Flora shot back.

  “You’re still upset about that?” she said raising her brows, “I had a change of heart.”

  “It was only a few days ago.” Camdyn reminded her.

  “Can a girl not grow?”

  “Growth is always welcome.” Camdyn replied, smirking. “Your snark, not so much.”

  “So what then?” Saelune asked, folding her arms. “We’ve ruled out everyone?”

  His expression sobered. “Maybe it’s time we seek input from a third party.

  Someone out there has to know something.”

  Saelune’s mouth curved into a sly smile. “As it so happens, I know just the place...”

  Flora stiffened immediately. “Don’t say it.”

  “An underground marketplace,” she continued smoothly, “not the kind you’ll find on a sunny street corner. It runs deeper. Hidden, dangerous, but rich in rumors. The Blackroot Bazaar.”

  “That place,” Flora hissed, “Is overgrown with the corrupt. Vultures. Liars. Murderers.”

  “Eh, they’re not all bad. Some are… morally grey. Besides, we need answers and we’re running out of those, aren’t we?”

  Camdyn glanced between them, torn, then leaned back with a sigh. “Tell me more about this bazaar.”

  “I’ve only been a handful of times,” Saelune admitted, twirling a blade of grass between her fingers. “It’s not exactly encouraged where I come from. But it’s… exclusive. Not just off-limits to humans—which, obviously—but even most magic folk never make it past the door.”

  “Why’s that?”

  “Let’s just say the sort who shop there value their privacy amongst other things and prefer to shop in the company of those who share said values.”

  “Okay… not shady at all. And where is this place exactly?”

  “Oh, it’s not tied to one spot,” Saelune explained, a spark of mischief in her eyes. “You can access it from almost anywhere, so long as you know the ritual.”

  Flora’s voice dropped, quiet but edged. “Black magic.”

  “Unconventional magic.” Saelune corrected with a shrug.

  Camdyn frowned. “What kind of ritual are we talking about?”

  “A little blood, a little ash, and the right incantations,” she replied far too casually. “The Bazaar likes a price paid up front. It weeds out the tourists.”

  Flora narrowed her eyes. “A price at what cost?”

  “A small one, if you ask me.”

  “I’m assuming you’re not talking animal blood.” Camdyn said warily.

  “Magic blood for a magic door.” Saelune confirmed.

  “And if you fake it?”

  “Then you might pay more than you bargained for. Not recommended to half-ass this kinda thing.”

  “Black magic is demanding and unstable. It corrupts those who touch it. That’s what makes it dangerous,” Flora said, her tone clipped.

  “Sounds like a skill issue to me. Besides, even ‘good’ magic can be dangerous in the wrong hands.” Saelune countered. “That’s the least of our problems, anyway.”

  Camdyn let out a dry laugh. “And what possibly could be the bigger issue?”

  “The clientele. I don’t think they’ll care much for the two of you. She’s all holier?than?thou…” She gestured lazily toward the nymph. “…and you—well, you know what our kind thinks of humans.”

  “Maybe some kind of disguise then? Like your cloak.”

  She grinned, “While I am flattered, you’ve mistaken me for a Sorceress. I dabble in magic, sure, but I’m no expert. This cloak was a gift from the Elders, a souvenir of sorts from their travels.”

  She paused, eyes flicking over him. “...But now that I think of it, it could hide your more obvious features. We only need to fool the casual onlooker. Might be just enough to keep you from sticking out like a sore thumb.”

  “And what about Flora?”

  Saelune tapped her chin thoughtfully. “Well, a forest nymph in a place like the Bazaar? That’s about as subtle as lighting a hut on fire. Goes against everything her kind stands for.” She shrugged, unconcerned. “But I can spin that. She’s magic?born, which ticks the minimum box for entry. I’ll make it up as I go.”

  “That’s reassuring.”

  “Relax,” Saelune said with a sly smile. “As long as you’re under my wing, you’ll be fine. Sirins are welcomed guests. Which means my guests are welcome by proxy.”

  “I don’t like this.”

  “You don’t like anything.” Saelune groaned. She then turned to Camdyn. “What say you, golden boy?”

  Both Flora and Saelune watched him expectantly.

  He ran through the options in his head before deciding. “You swear this is safe? Like we won’t lose our souls or end up in a place of no return or otherwise—I don’t know—cease to exist?”

  “Cross my heart and hope to die.”

  “Maybe not the best phrasing.” he muttered before conceding. “Okay, fine. Do your thing.”

  “I do not condone this.” Flora’s voice was firm as she stepped aside.

  “No one’s asking you to.” Saelune grumbled.

  With careful fingers, she traced a symbol at the center, then a large arch-like doorway surrounding it. Drawing one of her talons, she pricked her finger and dabbed the fresh blood onto the symbol. She murmured words as she moved, her voice low and steady.

  The blood darkened the ash, and the symbol began to glow softly, like embers flickering to life. The air grew still, charged with quiet power. Slowly, the stone before them shimmered and softened, shifting as if made of liquid shadow. The center rippled quietly, a window into shadowy shapes beyond. Strangers moving just out of focus.

  Saelune rose, her smile sharp. “Welcome to the Blackroot Bazaar.”