The Whisper Market did not exist anywhere. It pulsed beneath Hollowgate like a bad dream—there, but never twice where anyone had sought it out.
Kael emerged from behind a whirl of fluttering glyphs along the side of an abandoned train track. His boots crunched broken glass, but the sound was dampened by magic that swathed him.
One in, and the tang of ozone and metal crashed against him like a fist. The market sprang to life.
Neon runes shone on tunnel walls—merchants, smugglers, even fallen guilds selling memory shards and corrupted trinkets like sweets. Most passersby did not glance up. Most traders did not care.
Kael ducked under a tarp and into the back room of a run-down pawn stand. Inside, a man pierced silver-half-asleep sat behind a counter of fragmented relic parts.
The man looked up, faltered, and shared a knowing smile.
"Didn't think someone dressed like that would show."
Kael said nothing.
The man's eyes fell to the soft pulse of Kael's coat, where his relic thumped behind the fabric.
"Not many walk around shining like that," the broker went on. "Especially this deep."
Kael placed a pouch on the counter. "I need a clean line. Relic-quality materials. Unmarked."
The broker's eyebrow rose, opened the pouch, and looked at the coin. "Where'd you draw hazard credit like that?"
Kael said nothing.
The man clicked his tongue. "Right. One of those days. Wait here."
He disappeared into the shelving in the rear of him. Kael didn't move, his eyes sweeping the space—every seam in the wall, every rune that was aglow beneath the floor.
The relic on his arm stirred.
Behind the curtains, the broker muttered something to himself. A glyph blazed blue, then red. When he stepped forward, he carried a small metal chest with three seals.
No tracking, no echo signatures, no bloody bindings," he put it down. "You'd like your name scratched too?"
Kael nodded.
The broker grabbed a book from his sleeve and branded Kael's guild crest off the back of the pouch.
"You're not the only one hiding," the man said. "Just. be careful who you let get a look at you shining like that."
Kael half-nodded, took the box, and left.
Meanwhile…
Lira stood at the shop window, pendant in hand, watching the clouds gather.
Kael hadn't told her where he was going. Just told her to stay indoors. Normal.
The pendant still hummed, though softly now. As if in anticipation.
She twirled it between her fingers. The shard inside reflected her eyes back at her—then changed. A second reflection formed, indistinct at first…then clear.
Not her. Not Kael.
A dark-braided woman with pale eyes.
Lira blinked. The apparition disappeared.
There was a knock.
She froze.
The knock again, but this time a little gentler. She hid the pendant down her shirt and opened the door slightly.
An old woman stood in the doorway. Shawls wrapped around her like armor, and a circle of small charms spilled from her wrist.
"Didn't think anyone lived in this one," the woman said.
"I do."
"I felt something. A pulse. Memory-bound relics don't usually hum unless something's waking."
Lira hesitated. "You're a witch?"
"I'm a sleeper. Relic whisperer. Names don't matter. What matters is… that pendant's not just awake. It's calling."
Lira gripped it tighter beneath her shirt. "Calling who?"
"Not who, child. What."
Before Lira could say anything, the woman rummaged through her satchel and pulled out something—a rusted sigil, cracked down the middle. Its form was the same as the lines on Lira's pendant.
"This was the other half's," the woman panted. "Before the fall. Before they shattered it to conceal the line."
Lira backed away. "What do you want with that?"
"I buried it with someone I loved. It came back. Like you."
The woman handed her the broken sigil.
"You're not just House Viremont," she said softly. "You're what they made to survive it."
Then she turned and left.
Lira stood frozen in the doorway, pendant pulsing again like it had heard everything.
Elsewhere…
The Hollow Court's sanctum was silent.
A room of black stone, lit by glass orbs filled with frozen stars. Cloaked figures knelt in a circle, heads bowed as one of them spoke.
"He was seen," the figure said. "The heir. Verified."
"Did he set it off?" another asked.
"He departed alive," the figure said.
That was answered with silence.
Then, a deeper voice out of the shadows. Female. Ancient.
"Then we send the seer away. No waiting. I want his way recalculated. And the girl—"
"Still with him."
"Then give her visions. Cloud them. If she remembers who she is too quickly, the city will not make the breaking."
The hooded figures bowed.
The command had been issued.
The hunt was on.