The temple's heavy doors swung shut behind them. The world outside pressed in on Kael, the city's cacophony a jarring assault after the quiet sanctity of the temple. He swayed, his vision blurring, a wave of nausea washing over him as the poison coursing through his veins asserted its dominance.
He gripped the lizardfolk girl’s hand, her scales cool and reassuring against his clammy skin. The world was a hodge-podge of distorted shapes, a swirling blend of vibrant colors that his fading senses struggled to decipher.
“We have to… get back.” The words came out a slurred whisper, his tongue feeling thick, unwieldy. The metallic tang of blood filled his mouth, and he coughed, the sound a ragged rasp that echoed in the sudden stillness of the alleyway.
“To the house? Why?” The girl’s voice, still hesitant, tinged with the unfamiliar cadence of his language, was a jarring counterpoint to the symphony of pain that roared within him.
He couldn’t explain. He wasn’t even sure he understood it himself. But there was a clarity in the midst of his confusion. The Market of Shadows held the answer. An antidote, a potion, some concoction brewed by the city’s alchemists, by those who traded in whispered secrets and dealt in desperate hope. It was all he had left to cling to.
He stumbled down the temple steps, each jarring impact sending a shockwave of pain through his battered body. His legs felt like lead, each movement a betrayal. He was falling apart.
“Focus. One step at a time. You’ve done this a thousand times before.” But even his internal commands, once sharp and reassuring, sounded weak, distant, as if they belonged to someone else, to a version of himself he no longer recognized.
He clung to the lizardfolk girl as much as she clung to him. The cold press of her scales was a strange but steady anchor in the swirling vortex of his senses, her small hand a lifeline in the darkness.
They weaved through the narrow, twisting alleys, the shadows deepening, stretching like long fingers reaching for them, their paths obscured by the fog that clung stubbornly to Mudtown’s heart, mirroring the fog that clouded Kael's mind. The scent of the slums – the usual medley of rot and sewage, of sweat and desperation – pressed in on him, every breath an assault on his fading senses.
He glanced down at his hands, the chipped, cracked knuckles, the dirt ingrained into the skin. He remembered his time washing himself in the stream of the first Tin realm. How long ago had that been? A lifetime, it felt. A different life. His vision blurred again, and he stumbled, his knees hitting the cobblestones, a wave of nausea washing over him. He gasped for air, each inhale a searing reminder of his broken ribs, his body screaming its limitations. He couldn’t make it. Not like this.
“I need… need to stop…"
“Is it the poison? Do you need to rest?” The girl’s concern, woven with her own growing fear, sent a fresh wave of shame washing over him. He couldn’t give up. Not now. Not while she was depending on him.
He forced himself to his feet, gritting his teeth against the pain that ripped through his body, drawing strength from her worried gaze, from the unexpected tenderness he saw in those eyes. He could feel the faint power of Regeneration working against the incessant power of the poison, of his broken ribs, torn skin, and bruised flesh. Working to keep him alive.
“No. No. No. I can't let myself. No time. We have to…” He couldn’t form the words, couldn’t articulate the plan that was fading like a ghost in his mind.
The house, their makeshift sanctuary, the one place he could gather the supplies they’d need, the only things that might tempt the woman in the market to barter. He pulled her forward, leaning heavily on her, each step a betrayal, his boots scraping against the ground as he dragged himself through the maze of shadows and stench. It wasn't much further. He knew that. He'd lived here for years.
But tonight, every alley felt like a labyrinth, each shadow seemed to conceal a threat. He saw movement in the darkness - figures flitting past doorways, whispers exchanged in hushed tones, the glint of a knife blade reflecting the streetlights. He could smell fear, desperation, a raw hunger that mirrored his own.
They reached the house— a skeletal silhouette against the backdrop of the dying day’s light. Relief flooded him. Just a moment, to gather strength. To rest.
The girl followed him through the broken window.
"We need something. To sell.” Kael coughed, pushing the words past his gritted teeth. "Something to trade.” His voice was a broken whisper, the metallic taste of blood now a constant presence in his mouth.
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He pushed open the basement hatch, the hinges screaming in protest, the pain in his body creating a chorus. He felt her hesitation, the wariness in her posture as he guided her down the stairs.
The darkness engulfed them, but he could feel it—the Nexus’s energy, a subtle hum, a latent power waiting to be activated. He pulled her toward the heart of it, a place of power that was both terrifying and strangely comforting.
He closed his eyes. His fingers hovered over the invisible surface. This was it—another realm, another risk, but now it wasn't a creature he was facing, it was… the System itself, the very fabric of this world, an echo of the Void Shard's power.
Nexus Inventory
4x Coarse Hide (Common)
5x Sharp Teeth (Common)
1x Iridescent Shard (Uncommon)
1x Crystalline Fragment (Uncommon)
In a faint ripple of purple light, a space appeared before them. A storage space, an inventory, accessed not by hand or word but by will. Kael saw them, lined up within: a stack of Coarse Hide (Common), a handful of Sharp Teeth (Common), and two that shimmered with an almost ethereal glow - a small, Iridescent Shard (Uncommon) and a crystalline fragment (Uncommon). He couldn’t bring himself to gather them all. Just enough for a chance.
He looked at them, these scraps of potential, and then, with a trembling hand, he withdrew his meager offerings. The weight of a single Coarse Hide, the jagged edges of the Teeth, and the cool touch of the Iridescent Shard against his palm— they felt grounding, anchoring him to the moment. They were bargaining chips. A way to buy time, to buy hope, in a city that thrived on despair.
He gathered the items, stuffing them into his pockets, then looked at the girl. “Can you… carry this?” He offered her the Coarse Hide.
She nodded, a serious expression on her face. “Let’s go.” He’d heard that tone before. Determination. But it was hers now, his gift.
They made their way back through the empty, echoing house. His stomach snarled, but he ignored the insistent ache. They didn’t have time for that. They needed to survive this, to get to the market. He pushed the girl ahead of him as they emerged from the crumbling building, his hand reaching for the makeshift club at his side, his body tense, bracing for any unexpected attack.
He could feel her fear, her discomfort, as they stepped onto the narrow street. The sights, the smells, the sounds - all an assault on her newly awakened senses. The cobbles were slick, the buildings seemed to loom above them. She moved closer, bumping against him, the heat of her breath against his skin. Her world was gone, replaced by this. He'd done that.
They moved through the shadowy maze, following the familiar path towards the pulsing heart of the Market of Shadows. His world now, but one he’d been thrust into. Now they were both trapped, pawns in a game whose rules they barely understood.
"It’s just a little further,” he told her, but the lie tasted like ash in his mouth.
The air was thick with the stench of rot and sewage. The ground beneath his feet, slick and uneven, felt like it might give way at any moment, mirroring his own diminishing strength. He could feel the poison coursing through him, cold fire, but he forced himself to keep moving. They had to make it.
He felt her warmth against his arm, the press of her scales against his side. She didn’t complain. Didn’t ask any more questions. It was as if she understood. He wasn’t her only hope, but he was her only guide. The shadows stretched long, blurring the shapes of the buildings, the crowds merging into a swirling mass of darkness and fleeting moments of light. It was getting harder now, the darkness pressing in on him, but the girl was beside him. It was her touch that anchored him, the rhythmic sound of her quick, shallow breaths a fragile counterpoint to his own struggle. He leaned on her, more than she on him.
He glanced down at his hand. His flesh, pale and cold, a stark contrast to the rough, cool scales of her hand. The light of a flickering lamppost cast strange, distorted shadows on her face, emphasizing the sharp angles of her jaw, the feral gleam in her eyes. He had dragged her from one darkness into another. Yet, in the face of the unknown, a quiet, primal understanding seemed to bind them. Two souls tethered, both marked by a power that was both a curse and a blessing.
The Market of Shadows appeared at the end of the alleyway, its chaotic noises a jolt of energy against the encroaching darkness. They were almost there. He could make it.
“Just a little further,” he whispered.