Arriving at the Shadow Market had always been a risk for Amalthea, but now, with the artifact in her hands, the sense of danger felt even more tangible. The air here was heavy with intrigue and deceit. Shadows danced on the walls, cast by the irregular candles that lit the stalls and shops. Suspicious merchants whispered to each other, exchanging wary glances. The market was a labyrinth of secrets, and Amalthea moved cautiously, knowing that every step could be her last if she wasn’t careful.
She found a shop of magical artifacts at the end of a narrow alley. The facade was inconspicuous, but there was something in the eyes of the old wizard who kept the place that made her believe he might understand what it held. Amalthea stepped inside, the bell on the door tinkling softly, and the shop smelled of dust and old parchment. Ancient books lined the shelves, and strange objects floated in jars on the table, illuminated by a flickering light that seemed to emanate from some kind of crystal.
She wasted no time. She took the artifact out of her bag and placed it in front of the appraiser. With curious, eager eyes, he began to examine it, his wrinkled fingers running over the surface of the object, deciphering the runes engraved on it. As the old wizard concentrated, the silence grew heavy, broken only by the sound of his nervous murmur.
“This…” he began, his voice shaking. “This artifact… it holds something… ancient memories and knowledge, but…” the mage stopped, his hand now shaking, and his expression became one of pure terror. He recoiled, as if he had just discovered something horrific. His eyes, once curious, were now filled with terror.
“This is far more powerful than I imagined,” he whispered, breathless. “There is a terrible force within this artifact, a magic that should not be touched… it is too dangerous. You do not understand what you are carrying.”
Amalthea narrowed her eyes, trying to understand what he meant, but before she could ask, the wizard, in a quick and treacherous movement, pulled a dagger from his belt. The man's eyes shone with uncontrollable greed. He would not return the artifact. He wanted the power for himself.
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With a growl, he lunged at her, the dagger’s blade glinting in the dim light of the shop. Amalthea barely had time to react, but her survival instincts, honed by years on the streets, made her move quickly. She grabbed the artifact and held it to her chest, feeling the magical pulse increase, as if it were reacting to the wizard’s betrayal.
The dagger passed inches from his face, and Amalthea, with a reflex she didn't even know she had, struck the wizard in the face with the dagger. The force of the magic contained in the object passed through the man's body, and he fell to the ground with a dull sound, the dagger slipping from his hand, his eyes wide in shock. The wizard was dead.
Amalthea’s heart was pounding. She had never killed anyone before, but at that moment, she felt no guilt, only a wild urge to survive. She looked down at the mage’s body on the floor, panting, and then at the door to the shop. She knew she didn’t have much time before the smugglers who ruled the market would come to investigate. She had to get out of here—and fast.
She picked up her bundle, now stained with blood, and prepared to leave through the back door. However, before she left, her eyes fell one last time on the wizard's body. He had died because of the artifact, and it was now clear that more blood would be spilled because of it, perhaps her own, if she was not careful.
Amalthea ran out of the shop, the sound of her feet muffled by the noise of the market. She could already hear voices in the distance, the guards and smugglers beginning to stir over the mage’s death. She knew that if she was caught, she would be lost. The shadows of the city were cruel, and no one survived long in the Shadow Market after crossing the bosses.
Running through the narrow, winding alleys, Amalthea felt the weight of the artifact more than ever. It wasn’t just an item of value; it was a walking curse. The magic it contained was beginning to merge with her deeply, as if it were etching the secrets it held into her soul. There was something much greater at play than she could have imagined.
Now her only goal was escape. The Shadow Market was no longer safe, and the city of Velaris, with its treacherous streets and horror-filled undergrounds, lay in wait for her next move. Amalthea had something too valuable to ignore, and she knew she could trust no one.
Little did she know that, deep within Velaris, an unspeakable, magic-hungry creature was already on her trail. And the artifact, pulsing in her hand, seemed to yearn for it.
The hunt was just beginning.