Chapter 6
Red Market
Cervantes - 897, present day.
[Playing: Losu Tracks #32: Underneath the Rotting Pizza]
Maia loved the Red Market. It buzzed with life, the kind of life that felt messy and tangled, but real. The algae-neon lights flickered above even in the midday sun, overpowering and casting their bold colours across the varying clusters of stalls—vibrant green, soft blue, magenta streaks weaving through the air like strands. And the smells, it smelled like home to her, spiced roots sizzling, sharp tang of roasted meat, and that ever-present metallic bite from the old pipes overhead. It was chaos, but it was her chaos.
The market was a flood of scavengers, traders, and travellers, all crammed into the narrow pathways between the makeshift stalls. Voices overlapped, some bargaining, some arguing, others just trying to be heard above the din. She weaved through it all effortlessly, like a dancer in a familiar rhythm. She knew every twist and turn, every alley and hidden corner.
Sure, she’d spent a few years in Lindrao with her father, and lately their ruin-hunting in the wastelands had stretched longer and longer, with nothing but the sun and sand stretching out for days. The wasteland was a void, vast and silent. But here, in the market, it was the opposite. Every inch was crammed with colour, sound, and people. Every breath was thick with life, even if it wasn’t always the kind you wanted to breathe in. And no matter how far her father dragged her into the wastes, Red Market would always be home.
Matthias had already gone to Darn’s, their usual buyer for pulse rings. They had a big haul this time, and he wasn’t one to waste time on chit-chat when there was good tech to be traded. But Maia had no interest in Darn’s junkyard on the outskirts of the Red Market. The place reeked of oil and rust, and Darn’s pack of dogs never stopped barking. Besides, Maia had her own business to attend to.
The Red Market had changed since she was a kid, growing bigger every year. It now spilled over into the neighbouring warehouses, with rough archways cut through the walls, connecting the once-separated spaces into a maze of stalls, shops, and makeshift homes. Some people had even built proper houses inside the massive space. It was the kind of place where you could get lost for hours, maybe days, if you didn’t know where you were going. But Maia knew exactly where she wanted to be. She headed toward the central warehouse, weaving through the crowds.
In the far corner of the main warehouse stood a stone building, half-hidden beneath the sprawl of the market. An outdoor kitchen sat just beside it, surrounded by beer barrel tables, with the green algae-neon sign glowing overhead.
Lani’s place.
Just as it came into sight, Maia felt the faintest brush against her back. She spun around, eyes sharp, but saw no one immediately behind her. Her gaze flickered across the crowd until she caught a glimpse of a shadow slipping between the bustling people. A grin tugged at her lips, and she took off after it.
Like a dancer, Maia moved through the crowds with ease, sidestepping a cart piled high with watermelons, dodging between people, never losing sight of the shadow ahead. She turned one corner, then another, narrowing the gap with each step. Her eyes locked on her target as they ducked into a narrow alley. She took a bet, sprinting ahead and cutting them off at the next turn. Her hand shot out, grabbing the dark cloak by its scruff.
The kid yelped, stumbling back.
“Your ma know you’re pickpocketing?” Maia sneered.
“How’d you know I’d go this way?” the youth spat, his hood falling back to reveal a mess of bone-white hair and a boyish face. Allico.
With a raised brow, Maia held out her hand, and Allico, grumbling, dropped her coin pouch back into it.
“Why are you still pulling this crap? You know your ma will kill you faster than the soldiers if you get caught,” Maia chided.
“Kid’s gotta have hobbies,” Allico shrugged.
“Right, well—”
“What’s in the bag?” Allico’s curiosity sparked as he poked at the pack slung over her shoulder.
Maia smirked. “Surprise,” she winked, turning back toward Lani’s stall, leaving the boy trailing behind.
Lani spotted them just as they neared the rootshop, her face lighting up as she waved one hand, balancing a steaming pot in the other. “Maia! My love!” she called, her voice cutting through the market noise. Before Maia could say a word, Lani was on her, wrapping her up in a tight, motherly hug that smelled of fried roots and herbs.
The place was always packed, especially at this hour, and today was no different. Her husband was frantically trying to fry more roots as more customers shouted their orders at him.
“You’re looking thinner than usual,” Lani said, pulling back to inspect Maia with a sharp gaze, though a smile tugged at her lips. “I’m feeding you tonight, no arguments. Where’s your father, the big grump?”
“At Darn’s,” she smiled as Lani let go of her. “We got a good haul this time. Big one. Business is booming here, I see,” Maia said.
“Too booming,” Lani grumbled, though Maia could hear the pride in her tone. “Allico’s been slacking again, running off in the middle of his shift. Nix is upstairs, up in her room. Go on up, I’ll catch up with you later.”
Just then, Lani’s eyes locked on Allico, who was sidling back towards the kitchen like nothing had happened. “Oi!” Lani barked, planting her hands on her hips. “Where do you think you’ve been? Customers are waiting!”
Allico froze, caught in the act. “I was just—”
“Just running off, that’s what. Get back to work before I have you scrubbing pans all night!” She gave him a light scuff on the back of the head as he darted toward the tables, muttering under his breath.
Maia slipped through the bustling kitchen and ducked around the corner to the stairs leading up to Nix’s room. The familiar creak of the old wood under her feet was like a warm welcome. She was too young to remember when all this was built. But she’d spent most of her childhood running up and down these stairs.
Nix's room was just as it always was—a strange, beautiful fusion of a botanical garden and a cyberpunk teenager's hideout.
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The small space was cluttered but organised, with shelves lined with jars and containers, each housing plants of different shapes and sizes. Strange glowing algae floated in some of the jars, casting an ethereal light that mixed with the soft neon glow of light strips Nix had rigged up around the room. Her bed, crammed in a corner, was surrounded by hanging pots of vines and flowers, their tendrils spilling over the edges and crawling up the walls. The plants seemed to pulse with life, thriving under the careful attention Nix gave them.
Maia grinned, stepping over a tangle of wires connected to a small hydroponic setup that was keeping some of the more delicate plants alive. Nix was hunched over at her desk, her back turned, completely engrossed in whatever project she was working on. A large pair of headphones covered her ears, and she was mumbling softly to herself, her fingers moving deftly over the soil of a small, intricate terrarium. She was the opposite of her twin brother Allico in both appearance and personality. Her jet-black hair was covering her face as she nodded her head to whatever she was listening to.
“Hey, Nix,” Maia called softly, not wanting to startle her. She knew how lost Nix could get in her world of plants.
Nix didn’t hear her at first, too absorbed in her task. Maia chuckled and gently tapped her shoulder.
Nix jumping, pulling off her headphones and spinning around in her chair. “Maia! I didn’t hear you come in!” She smiled, her face lighting up. “You’re back? You’re back! You’re back!”
“I am,” Maia said, sitting on the edge of Nix's bed, careful not to knock over the pots nearby. “Aaaaand,” she pulled her pack onto her lap, “I brought you something.”
Nix’s eyes widened with excitement. “New plants?”
“This one,” she pulled out the branch carefully, “is a cutting from an olive tree.”
“No freakin’ way!”
Nix’s face lit up with pure joy and it made Maia’s heart soar.
“Yup,” she grinned, “I even tasted ‘em myself. Brought some for you.” She handed over a few olives, watching Nix take them like they were treasures from another world.
“And that’s not all,” Maia continued, her excitement bubbling over as she began to pull out more from her pack. “Found a ton of cacti out in the wastes. Like, loads of ‘em.” She laid them out one by one, her energy contagious as Nix’s eyes gleamed with curiosity.
“Ma’s gonna freak,” Nix bounced. “Actual olives, you know how expensive they are?”
“Yeah, figure I owe her for, you know, the ten million meals she’s given me,” Maia shrugged.
“You’re staying for dinner?”
“‘Course, Ba’s down at Darn’s. He’ll probably be there a few hours, you know what he’s like.”
“You been home yet?”
Home, in this context, was the Dame. Parked up in a nice safe spot just outside Red Market. Red Market was home in the sense that it was her hometown, where everyone she knew lived. Well, almost everyone. But the Dame—that was home home. Her house. It had been her entire life. Even with all the time she’d spent away from the market, it was always in the Dame, her constant.
“Not yet,” Maia grinned, “But I’ve got big, big plans for her. Nix, I’m going to get the Dame moving again.”
***
Maia's room in the Dame was a tight, chaotic haven crammed into the cab space above the driver’s compartment. It was almost a mirror of Nix’s, though far more cramped, with every inch utilised to its fullest. The walls were plastered with a patchwork of old posters, faded prints from pre-war times alongside sketches and notes she’d tacked up over the years. Twisting vines and small potted plants lined the narrow windowsill, barely held in place by makeshift straps to keep them steady when the Dame was moving.
Her bed was a small, built into the wall with storage crammed underneath, blankets spilling out. It was stacked with mismatched pillows, a makeshift canopy of old curtains hanging over it. The whole place smelled faintly of engine oil, warm earth, and a hint of something sweet—lavender from a tiny sprig she kept in a glass bottle by her bed, a gift from Nix.
She’d already given Nix a complete copy of all the new Losu tracks she’d found. She leaned back on her bed, listening to a particular good one. Happy to be back in her space, Maia was finding spots for some of the cacti that Nix hadn’t claimed. The olive tree cutting was too large for anything Maia had. That would have to stay at Lani’s place. But that was fine.
Her father had been surprised she managed to keep most of these plants alive despite the amount of time they spent away from the Dame the past few months. But Maia had been meticulous and had given any particularly needy plants to Nix before they went out into the wastes.
There was a soft knock on the door,
“Come in,” Maia called, not bothering to look up.
Her father stepped inside. He looked worn, he likely hadn’t eaten anything yet.
“Lani made dinner for you,” Maia said, her tone holding a hint of reproach. “You should go see her.”
“I will, I will,” he sighed, running a hand through his disheveled hair. He lingered, as if searching for the right words. “Look, I know I was hard on you back at the ruin. I just—” he faltered for a moment, then forced the words out, “I got scared.”
She shrugged, not wanting to hold onto the sting of his earlier reprimand, but it still sat heavy in her chest. “It’s okay.”
He looked away, tension still hanging between them. “I think we should start training with your scrav-powers again,” he said, voice quiet but firm.
Maia’s heart sank, and she stiffened at the suggestion. She didn’t want to think about her powers—what they did, what they took. Her gaze drifted around her room, the small jungle of life she’d built. Green leaves, delicate buds, everything vibrant and alive. She blew out a slow breath, trying to steady herself.
“We’ll go back out into the wastes,” Matthias continued, sensing her unease. “Train where there’s no one else around. It’ll be different this time. You need to get stronger, Maia. If you’re going to survive out here, you’ve got to learn how to use them, really use them, in combat.”
She hesitated but nodded. “Okay,” she agreed, though reluctance clung to the word.
He shifted, clearly relieved but still preoccupied. “I tried finding someone to crack those encryptions on the Verdant Fatebond archives you found.”
“Any luck?”
“No,” he shook his head. “Not even Ventessa. She charged me twenty shells just to even look at it,” he grimaced. “She said our best bet would be Hadras or Lindrao. One of the pros there might be able to help.”
The mention of Lindrao made her falter. It hung in the air between them, a weight they both knew but rarely addressed.
“We could… go back,” she offered tentatively. “With a few more days of work, the Dame’ll be moving again.” She brightened, trying to lighten the mood. “A road trip, like old times?”
“I don’t know…” Matthias hesitated, something unreadable in his expression.
Maia took a deep breath, “I think Kyra might be happy to see us?” She said, pushing forward
“What makes you think that?” His eyes narrowing slightly.
Her pulse quickened. Damn it. “I… I’ve kind of been in contact with her.”
“Really?” His brow furrowed.
“Yeah. She sent me a letter a few months ago. Just checking in, asking how I was.”
“You’ve been writing each other?” Now, there was a note of irritation in his voice, a flicker of something that annoyed her too. He didn’t get to decide who she talked to. She wasn’t a kid anymore. He didn’t get to keep treating her like one.
“Yeah,” she said firmly, feeling her own frustration rising.
“Oh,” he said quietly, and for the first time, Maia noticed the sadness in his voice. It caught her off guard. The tough, unshakeable man she’d known her whole life seemed, for just a moment, vulnerable.
That one word—oh—carried more than she’d expected, and guilt bloomed in her chest. Of course he’d feel something about her talking to Kyra. The woman he didn’t speak of. And here Maia was, bridging a gap he probably thought was long sealed off. She hadn’t meant to hurt him. Not like this.
“I didn’t mean—”
He waved it off, his usual stoicism returning, though it didn’t quite reach his eyes. “It’s fine, Maia. Really.”
But it wasn’t. She could see that now. The silence that followed wasn’t like the comfortable pauses they usually shared. It was thick, full of unsaid things, regrets, and history she didn’t fully understand. And in that moment, the bustling noise of Red Market outside, even the warmth she’d always felt from her father—all of it seemed distant.
“I’ll let you get some rest,” he said after a beat, his voice soft again.