Ten years went by like this—a decade of enduring hell, waiting for a miracle that would never come.

One day during an expedition, I found myself in Darius’s faction, accompanied by two other Summoners and three of his men. Darius led on horseback while the rest of us trudged on foot, dust rising around our ankles. I pulled the water flask from my hip, took a swig, and wiped sweat from my brow, glancing at the desolate road ahead.

A figure appeared on the horizon—a man cloaked in black and brown, his long robe weathered and stained with travel. Bandages wrapped his forearms, worn and frayed, hinting at injuries or perhaps concealing something else. A large satchel hung at his side, bulging with mysterious contents that clinked faintly with each step he took. He moved with an eerie confidence, each stride steady and deliberate, as though he had no fear of those who awaited him.

The stranger stopped a short distance from us, letting the heavy bag at his side rest against his hip. Dust swirled in the air between us as he stood there, unmoving, the silence heavy with unspoken tension.

“What do you want?” Darius barked, his voice sharp and commanding.

The man tilted his head slightly, a faint, amused smirk forming beneath the edge of his hood.

“What I want?” His voice was smooth, calm, and utterly unbothered. “Now, that’s a complicated question. But for now…” His gloved hand reached into his bag, pulling out a small vial filled with a swirling, dark liquid. He held it up, letting it catch the fading sunlight. “I’m here to make an offer.”

The man’s demeanor shifted suddenly, catching everyone off guard. He threw his arms wide, his voice erupting with exaggerated cheer.

“Oh, good sirs!” he called out, his tone dripping with cheerful arrogance. “What a fortunate day for you!”

He took a step closer, the leather satchel at his side jingling with the sound of dried herbs and glass bottles clinking together. The seriousness from moments ago evaporated, replaced with an energy so loud and theatrical that it felt out of place.

“Fate itself must be smiling upon us, crossing our paths like this!” he exclaimed, holding out his hands as if presenting some divine opportunity.

He reached into his bag and produced a bundle of herbs tied neatly with twine. “Perhaps you’ve been in dire need of these rare mountain remedies? Or…” He pulled out a small vial, the liquid inside swirling in mesmerizing shades of blue and green. “…a potion to sharpen the senses? Strengthen the spirit? Turn a blind eye?” He winked with a grin that could disarm even the wariest of travelers.

Darius stiffened on his horse, his eyes narrowing. The man was playing some game, but the abrupt shift in tone had even his soldiers glancing at one another in confusion.

The stranger took a bold step forward, his movements flamboyant but calculated, as though testing how far he could push before someone snapped. “Come now, good sirs! Surely there’s something here that catches your fancy?” His grin widened, unbothered by the tense silence. “A fair trade perhaps? Or, if you’re feeling generous, a small donation to this humble wanderer?”

But something in the man’s grin, in the way he carried himself, hinted that his act wasn’t just for show. Beneath the exaggerated gestures and loud voice, there was a dangerous sharpness—a predator hiding behind the mask of a merchant.

I squinted, unsure whether to laugh or cringe. He looked almost theatrical, like someone playing the role of a traveling merchant but overacting his part. Darius didn’t seem amused by his enthusiasm, but he didn’t let that stop him.

“Allow me to introduce myself” he continued, utterly unfazed by their silence. “A simple man of the land, but one who just so happens to have the finest medicines and elixirs you’ll ever lay eyes on.” He held up a tiny glass bottle filled with something greenish and bubbling, as if it were a trophy. “A sip of this, and you’ll feel as if you could conquer mountains! A little miracle, if I say so myself.”

Darius raised a sceptical brow, sizing him up. But the merchant’s grin only widened, seemingly oblivious to the tension.

I had to bite my lip to keep from laughing outright. I couldn’t tell if he was brave, foolish, or just entirely unaware of the tension in the air, but he kept talking as though they were hanging on his every word. I almost admired his nerve—almost.

Zarek, however, had lost his patience.

“Who the hell is this clown?” Zarek growled.

The merchant turned to him with a mischievous glint. “I have a tonic that might help with that nasty tone. Can’t imagine it’s pleasant for your comrades to endure your yelling all day.” He glanced at Darius, his grin never faltering. “I’d wager it’s quite the burden.”

A vein pulsed in Zarek’s temple, and I fought to suppress my laughter. The merchant had nerves of steel, that was certain.

“We’re not interested. Move along,” Darius said, his voice firm.

But the merchant wagged a finger with mock scolding, standing his ground as if scolding an unruly child.

“Ah, but you say that, and yet…” His gaze shifted to Garrick, whose face paled. “…one of your men there bears a wound festering under that armor, doesn’t he?”

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Darius’s expression hardened, his usual control slipping for a moment as he looked back at us. Garrick tensed, his hand drifting toward his side, and I caught a slight wince—a secret we’d all been keeping. None of us had spoken of the bite.

The merchant tilted his head, eyes glinting as he continued, his tone teasing yet somehow knowing. “Yes, thought you could hide it, eh? Poison, I’d guess? A nasty bite, judging by the sweat on his brow. Lucky for you, I happen to have an antidote—at a reasonable price, of course. What more could you ask for?”

Darius studied him for a moment, his usual air of command briefly shaken. I could tell he didn’t like this man’s tone, didn’t like being read so easily. But he hesitated, and in that pause, the merchant seized his chance, holding up a small vial that glowed faintly green.

“For the health of your men,” he added, in a softer voice now, “and your journey ahead.” Darius’s sharp gaze lingered on the merchant, suspicion evident as the silence stretched between them. He crossed his arms, his commanding air momentarily shaken, and finally spoke, his voice cool but laced with curiosity.

“You’ve got a face I feel like I’ve seen before,” Darius said, narrowing his single piercing eye. “What’s your name, merchant?”

The man didn’t flinch, his cocky smile unwavering. “Ah, faces like mine, they have a way of sticking with people, don’t they?” he said, waving a hand dismissively. “But I assure you, this is our first meeting. As for names... well, call me Rylan.”

Darius wasn’t convinced, his lips pressing into a thin line. “Rylan, then. If you’re so resourceful, perhaps you’d like to offer more than just wares. Consider an invitation to join us. Our organization could use someone with... your talents.”

Rylan tilted his head, pretending to mull it over as he clutched his satchel protectively.

“Tempting,” he said finally, his voice still light but carrying an undertone of calculation. “Perhaps I’ll take you up on that. I’ll bring the best of my stock in three days’ time. A merchant is only as good as his reliability, after all.”

Rylan handed over the glowing green elixir, his movements fluid and deliberate. “For the health of your men, as promised,” he said softly. He took the payment with a small bow before turning on his heel and walking off, his confident strides fading into the distance.

Three days later, as promised, Rylan arrived at the designated location.

I was the one sent to fetch him. When I saw him standing at the edge of the compound, I hesitated. He looked different now. The loud charm he’d displayed before was muted, replaced with an air of restraint, though his blue eyes darted around, taking everything in with unsettling precision.

“Follow me,” I said, keeping my voice neutral as I turned toward the facility.

As we walked, I couldn’t help but notice how his expression changed. His jaw tightened, his brow furrowed, and his hands, which he kept clasped behind his back, curled into fists. At first, I thought he was just unnerved by the dark halls and stale air, but then I saw what he was seeing—what I had grown numb to over time.

The sight of people caged like animals, their bodies battered and torn, filled the narrow corridors. Whimpers and cries echoed faintly, the despair tangible.

“They’re treated as livestock,” Rylan said with a calm low voice, though the words were sharp enough to cut.

His face hardened further as we passed one room where a man was restrained on a table, his limbs being held by leather straps that are being pulled by mechanical gears on ground, he screams from the excessive pulling of joints until they snapped and got ripped off from his main body sending bones and flash about. Another room contained a woman, stripped bare, her cries muffled as two men stood over her, laughing.

The tension in the air felt like it could snap. I glanced back at Rylan, unsure of why his reaction bothered me so much. His jaw was set tight, his lips pressed into a thin line as his eyes flicked from one horror to the next. There was something brewing beneath the surface.

“What is the name of this organization again?” he asked, his voice low and tightly controlled.

“They are...i mean we are called the Void Talons,” I answered, unsure of what else to say.

When we finally reached Darius’s quarters, I knocked on the door, opening it just enough to peek in. “The merchant is here,” I said curtly.

“Let him in,” Darius replied, his voice steady as always.

“Darius, my good man!” Rylan exclaimed with exaggerated cheer, causing me to blink in confusion. “A fine day to discuss business, isn’t it? Though I must say, your accommodations could use a bit of, ah... charm.” He made a sweeping gesture toward the room’s grim walls, as if it were a dull tavern that needed redecorating.

The change was jarring. I’d seen his face moments ago, hard as stone, eyes filled with restrained rage. And now, he stood here, as if he hadn’t just walked through hell itself, a carefree spring in his step.

Darius raised a brow, his lips curling into a faint smirk. “You certainly don’t lack theatrics.”

“Ah, life is theater, my dear sir!” Rylan declared, with a dramatic flourish. “And we merchants? Why, we’re the finest actors! Now, let’s discuss what brought me here. I believe I promised you the very best of my wares.” He swung his satchel off his shoulder, dropping it onto the table with a clink of glass and metal.

Darius leaned back, his eye narrowing slightly. “You’re quite the enigma, Rylan. One moment, I’d say you looked as though the weight of the world had settled on your shoulders. Now you act like you’ve strolled into a festival. Which one’s the real you?”

Rylan laughed, the sound light and disarming. “Ah, you wound me, Darius! A man can’t have layers? I assure you, this is the real me—the charming, resourceful merchant standing before you.” He pulled out a vial filled with a faintly glowing green liquid and set it on the table with a flourish.

“And this?” Rylan continued, tapping the vial with his finger. “The finest remedy you’ll find for wounds, fatigue, and even broken bones. I call it the Elixir of Vitality—an essential for a man like you leading a faction like this.”

Darius’s eye flicked to the vial, but his suspicion remained. “And the rest of your wares?”

“Oh, I’ve brought plenty,” Rylan replied, opening the satchel to reveal an assortment of vials, herbs, and peculiar instruments. “But first—payment. We merchants can’t survive on goodwill alone, you know.”

Darius chuckled dryly. “Fair enough.” He gestured to one of his men, who stepped forward to count out a pouch of coins and place it on the table.

Rylan pocketed it with a grin. “A pleasure doing business as always.” He inclined his head slightly, then straightened, his cheer as unshakable as ever. “Now, what’s next? A tour, perhaps? I’ve always been curious about how a place like this runs.”

For a split second, I caught a flicker of something in his expression—too quick for anyone else to notice, but it sent a shiver down my spine. Was it disdain? Calculation? Whatever it was, it was gone before I could be sure.

Darius didn’t seem to catch it. He nodded toward me. “Caelith, escort him through the facility.

Let him see where his wares might be useful.”

My stomach churned, but I nodded. “This way,” I said flatly, avoiding Rylan’s gaze as I turned to leave.

He followed me with an almost jaunty step, the clinking of his wares punctuating each movement. But as we left the room, I couldn’t help but glance at him out of the corner of my eye. His grin was still plastered on his face, but the way his fingers clenched around the strap of his bag told a different story.

What game are you playing? I wondered silently, my unease growing with each step.