Festival of Lights

Bajie stumbled out of the eluvian with a dramatic shudder, giving himself a once-over as if counting limbs.

Alright, still got all my bits—ears, nose, spleen, the works. Thank the ancestors for small mercies, he muttered, rolling his shoulders as if shaking off the residual magic.

Antiva City stretched before them, all golden domes and sun-warmed streets, bustling with life in a way that was vastly different from Arlathan’s eerie elegance. The air smelled of spice and salt, the city’s markets packed with merchants hawking silk, steel, and everything in between.

Bajie cracked his neck and glanced down at Leena, who was still holding his hand. See? Not so bad. No missing toes, no extra heads. Just a quick trip through the terrifying unknown. Easy-peasy.

He let her hand go and turned on his heel, leading them into the chaos of the market.

Alright, love, here’s the deal. My contact? His name’s Varron. And let’s just say he’s got the kind of personality that makes you want to punch him square in the teeth—but he’s useful. He runs a little operation down in the Silk Row, mostly deals in rare imports and hard-to-find items. If there’s paper worth having in this city, he’s got it.

Bajie sighed, already bracing himself for the inevitable headache.

Problem is, Varron never just hands things over. He’s gonna want something in return, and knowing him, it won’t be coin. So keep your wits about you, yeah? And for the love of all things good, don’t agree to anything before I do.

He led them through winding alleyways, the scent of incense and roasting meat thick in the air. Silk Row was exactly as he remembered—luxurious, loud, and filled with the kind of people who could buy and sell entire kingdoms with the right words.

@Leena Craynore