6. Night Market’s Bargain
Chapter 6
Night Market’s Bargain
K ai kicked a stone in frustration, watching it skitter across the forest path back toward Thornhaven. Three days. He'd promised Eliar he'd wait three days before returning to Mistwood, but the restless energy that had been building inside him since their magical connection at the stream made even the thought of waiting unbearable.
“You're sulking,” Briar observed from her perch on his shoulder. “It's not an attractive look.”
“I'm not sulking,” Kai retorted. “I'm strategizing.”
“Is that what we're calling it now?” The sprite fluttered her wings, sending a light dusting of sparkling pollen onto his jacket. “Because it looks remarkably like a grown man kicking rocks because a pretty star-person didn't want to play magic fingers with him anymore.”
Kai shot her a withering glance. “That's not—” He broke off, unable to fully deny her characterization. “It's not just about Eliar. It's about what's happening to my magic. About the connection between us. About the Void Feeders and the village's reaction and... all of it.”
“Mm-hmm,” Briar hummed skeptically. “And you're definitely not fixating on the way his eyes glow when he looks at you.”
“I hate you,” Kai muttered without heat.
“You love me. I'm the only one who tells you the truth.”
She wasn't wrong. Kai hadn't even told Silas and Thorne where he was going before he disappeared for what was supposed to be a simple day trip to Mistwood. They had no idea what had happened there, and the thought of explaining everything made his stomach twist. How could he tell them that he had somehow awakened the dormant powers of a fallen celestial guardian? That his magic had created a connection neither of them fully understood, but both seemed unable to resist?
They'd think he was being reckless. Again. And maybe he was.
But there was something about Eliar that pulled at him, something beyond the obvious attraction or the thrill of mystery. Something that felt important. Essential, even.
“It just doesn't make sense,” Kai said, resuming his walk along the forest path, though not with any real destination in mind. “Why would he keep pushing me away when it's obvious there's something happening between us? Not just... personally, but magically.”
“Maybe because he's an ancient cosmic being who's been alone for centuries and doesn't know how to handle someone like you barging into his isolation?” Briar suggested.
Kai shot her a surprised look. “That was almost insightful.”
“I have my moments between being a delightful nuisance.” She preened, smoothing her tiny leaf-skirt. “Besides, I've been watching you two dance around each other. It's like seeing a puppy try to befriend a particularly grumpy owl.”
“I'm not a puppy,” Kai protested.
“Energetic, easily distracted, overly friendly, prone to getting into trouble? If the collar fits...”
Kai was about to retort when movement ahead caught his attention. They had wandered off the main path, into a less traveled section of forest that lay between Thornhaven and Mistwood. A woman in a faded red cloak was walking purposefully through the trees, a basket over one arm. Something about her movements—furtive yet determined—piqued Kai's curiosity.
“Follow her?” Briar asked, already knowing the answer.
“Naturally,” Kai replied with a grin, his earlier frustration momentarily forgotten.
They kept a careful distance, Kai moving quietly through the underbrush, Briar occasionally flitting ahead to keep the woman in sight when the forest grew too dense. She followed no path that Kai could discern, yet moved with the confidence of someone who knew exactly where they were going.
After nearly half an hour of winding through increasingly unfamiliar territory, the woman paused at what appeared to be a solid wall of thorny bushes. She glanced around—Kai ducked behind a large oak just in time—before pushing aside a section of the bushes to reveal a narrow passage beyond. She slipped through, and the thorns sprang back into place behind her.
“Well, that's not suspicious at all,” Kai murmured.
“Secret passages usually lead to one of two things,” Briar said. “Treasure or trouble.”
“And in my experience, they're often the same thing.” Kai approached the wall of thorns cautiously. Up close, he could see that they weren't ordinary brambles—the thorns had an unnatural bluish tint, and tiny flowers bloomed among them despite the season. “Magic,” he noted. “Old magic, by the feel of it.”
He extended his senses, feeling for the edges of the enchantment. The barrier thrummed with protective energy, but it wasn't designed to keep everyone out—just to remain hidden from those who weren't looking for it. Kai ran his fingers lightly over the thorns, wincing as one pricked his skin. A drop of his blood fell onto the nearest flower, which suddenly glowed and then wilted.
The wall of thorns parted silently, revealing the same narrow passage the woman had taken.
“Blood magic,” Briar observed uneasily. “Always a good sign.”
“It's just a simple recognition spell,” Kai said, though he wasn't entirely confident in his assessment. “Probably checks if you have magic in your blood.”
“Or takes a sample for more nefarious purposes,” Briar muttered, but followed as Kai stepped through the opening.
The passage twisted downward, the forest canopy overhead growing denser until it blotted out most of the daylight. Phosphorescent fungi lined the path, providing just enough illumination to avoid tripping over protruding roots. The air grew cooler, heavy with the scent of damp earth and something sweeter, almost intoxicating.
As they descended further, sounds began to reach them—distant music, the murmur of voices, occasional laughter that didn't sound entirely human. The path finally opened onto a small clearing nestled in a depression that hadn't been visible from above. What Kai saw there made him stop in his tracks.
Stalls and tents of various sizes filled the space, illuminated by lanterns that burned with flames in impossible colors—deep purple, acid green, icy blue. Between them moved figures both recognizably human and decidedly not: tall, thin beings with elongated features; short, stocky creatures with too many fingers; ordinary-looking people who seemed to flicker at the edges when viewed from the corner of the eye.
A night market. Not just any market, but one clearly catering to those with connections to the supernatural world.
“I've heard rumors,” Briar whispered, her tiny form pressing close to Kai's neck. “The Hidden Market. It moves locations, appears only at certain times. They say you can buy or sell anything here—information, artifacts, even memories.”
“Who are 'they'?” Kai asked, equally quiet.
“Other sprites. We gossip. It's what we do.”
Kai took a cautious step into the clearing, half-expecting to be challenged, but no one paid him much attention. The market's patrons seemed absorbed in their own business, examining wares, haggling with vendors, or conversing in small groups.
“What now?” Briar asked. “We don't even know what we're looking for.”
“Information,” Kai said decisively. “About Eliar. About fallen guardians. About whatever prophecy Madam Wisteria thinks I'm part of.”
They moved through the market, Kai trying not to stare too obviously at the strange goods on display. One stall sold bottled emotions—tiny glass vials containing swirling mists labeled “First Love,” “Perfect Contentment,” “Righteous Fury.” Another offered small, living shadows that followed their purchasers like obedient pets. A third displayed what appeared to be ordinary objects—combs, keys, thimbles—but each had a card detailing its supposed magical properties.
“How do we know which vendors might have actual information rather than just trinkets?” Kai murmured, feeling increasingly overwhelmed by the options.
“Look for the ones selling nothing,” Briar advised. “In places like this, those with the most valuable commodities often display the least.”
Following her suggestion, Kai began to pay more attention to the less obvious presences in the market. He noticed a tent slightly apart from the others, its fabric a deep midnight blue that seemed to absorb light rather than reflect it. No wares were displayed outside, no signs advertised its purpose, but a steady trickle of patrons entered and left, many looking either troubled or triumphant.
“There,” he said, nodding toward the tent. “That looks promising.”
As they approached, Kai felt a strange pressure against his skin, as if the air itself was assessing him. The tent's entrance, a simple flap of the same light-swallowing fabric, rippled slightly though there was no breeze.
"Welcome, seeker," came a voice from within—neither male nor female, neither young nor old, but somehow carrying the weight of considerable time. "Enter, if you dare to know what you seek."
The dramatic invitation nearly made Kai roll his eyes, but he pushed aside the tent flap and stepped inside nonetheless. The interior was larger than the exterior suggested, illuminated by a single lamp that cast a pale, steady light. The walls were lined with shelves holding books, scrolls, and strange artifacts that seemed to shift in appearance when not observed directly.
In the center sat a figure at a small table. Like the voice, the merchant defied easy categorization—their features fluid, their age indeterminate, their clothing an assemblage of styles from many different eras. The only constant was their eyes: completely black, like polished obsidian, reflecting nothing.
"Ah," the merchant said, those unsettling eyes fixed on Kai. "A witch from Thornhaven. How... unexpected."
Kai managed not to show his surprise at being so easily identified. "I'm looking for information," he said, keeping his voice level.
"Everyone who comes here is looking for information," the merchant replied, gesturing to the chair opposite them. "The question is, what are you willing to pay for it?"
Kai sat, conscious of Briar hiding beneath his collar, uncharacteristically silent. "That depends on what you know."
The merchant's lips curved in what might have been a smile. "I know many things. I know that your magic is... unusual. I know that you've encountered something beyond your understanding. I know that you've touched power that frightens even you, though you'd never admit it." They leaned forward slightly. "I know you seek answers about the fallen guardian."
A chill ran down Kai's spine. "How?—"
"This is a place of knowledge," the merchant interrupted. "Your questions are written on your aura as clearly as if you'd shouted them." They sat back, that not-quite-smile still playing about their lips. "The question remains: what will you offer in exchange for what you seek?"
Kai hesitated. He had brought money, of course, but somehow he doubted this merchant traded in ordinary currency. "What do you typically accept as payment?"
"It varies," the merchant said, examining their fluid-like hands as if bored. "Memories. Promises. Talents. Small pieces of the self that most never miss until it's too late."
"That sounds ominous," Kai observed.
"Knowledge often comes at a cost," the merchant replied. "The greater the knowledge, the greater the price. Information about a cosmic guardian who fell from the heavens? About prophecies that span millennia? About your own role in the awakening of powers long dormant?" They shrugged elegantly. "Such insights do not come cheaply."
Kai's curiosity battled with his sense of self-preservation. The merchant clearly knew something—perhaps everything—he wanted to learn. But the casual mention of "pieces of the self" as payment set off warning bells even he couldn't ignore.
"What exactly would you want from me?" he asked cautiously.
The merchant considered him, those black eyes unreadable. "A sliver of your magic," they said finally. "And a few drops of your blood."
"That's..." Kai frowned. "What for? What would you do with them?"
"Does it matter?" The merchant's expression remained neutral. "Everything has a purpose in the Night Market. Everything has value to someone. Your magic is... exceptional. Unique. It resonates with cosmic energies in ways I have rarely encountered." Their not-quite-smile returned. "As for your blood—blood carries memory, carries essence. It speaks truths its bearer may not even know."
Kai shifted uncomfortably. "That's not really an answer."
"It's the only one you'll receive," the merchant replied, unperturbed. "The price is set. A sliver of your magic, freely given. A few drops of your blood, willingly shed. In exchange, I will tell you what you wish to know about the fallen guardian, about the prophecy that binds you both."
"Kai," Briar whispered from her hiding place, her voice barely audible. "This is a bad idea."
She was right. He knew she was right. Giving pieces of himself—especially his magic and his blood—to a mysterious merchant in a hidden magical market was exactly the kind of recklessness that Silas was always warning him against.
But when had that ever stopped him?
"How do I give you a sliver of my magic?" he asked, ignoring Briar's tiny groan of dismay.
The merchant produced a small crystal vial from within their robes. "Focus your power into this. Not a spell, not an intent—just raw magic, the purest expression of your essence."
Kai took the vial hesitantly. It felt cold against his skin, but not unpleasantly so—more like the chill of a mountain stream than the bite of ice. He closed his eyes, concentrating on the well of power that lived within him. Usually, he shaped this energy into spells, into specific intentions and outcomes. To access it in its raw form felt strangely intimate, like revealing a part of himself he normally kept clothed.
Golden light gathered around his fingers, swirling and pulsing with his heartbeat. He directed this energy into the crystal vial, feeling a strange pulling sensation as the container drew in more than he was consciously offering—not painfully, but with a definite hunger that left him momentarily light-headed.
When he opened his eyes, the vial glowed with captured sunlight—his magic, distilled into physical form. The merchant took it from him with surprising gentleness, holding it up to examine the swirling golden energy within.
"Beautiful," they murmured, before tucking the vial away. "And now, the blood."
They produced a small silver knife, its blade so thin it was nearly transparent. Kai hesitated only briefly before extending his hand. The merchant drew the blade across his palm with surgical precision—sharp enough that he felt the sting only after seeing the thin line of red well up.
The merchant held another vial beneath his palm, collecting the droplets with methodical care. When they had gathered perhaps a thimbleful, they stoppered the vial and tucked it away alongside the one containing his magic.
"The price is paid," they said, satisfaction evident in their voice. "Now, for your information."
They rose smoothly and moved to one of the shelves, selecting a small wooden box inlaid with mother-of-pearl. Returning to the table, they placed it before Kai and opened it with a flourish. Inside lay a fragment of what appeared to be ancient parchment, the edges charred as if it had been rescued from a fire.
"This," the merchant said reverently, "is a piece of the Celestial Prophecy. The original was written in a language no mortal can comprehend, but this translation dates back nearly two thousand years."
Kai leaned forward, studying the fragment. The text was faded but legible, written in an archaic script he could just barely decipher:
"...and the Fallen One shall slumber, power bound but vigilant still. When the Catalyst arrives, bearing magic that echoes the stars, the Guardian shall wake. His bonds shall weaken, his essence shall stir, and choice shall once more be upon him. Should he embrace what was denied, balance restored and boundaries renewed. Should he reject the offered hand, the veil shall tear asunder, and that which hungers in the void shall feast upon two worlds..."
The fragment ended there, the rest lost to fire or time. Kai read it twice, then a third time, the implications slowly sinking in.
"The Catalyst," he said quietly. "That's me, isn't it?"
The merchant inclined their head. "So it would appear. Your magic 'echoes the stars,' as the prophecy states. It resonates with what remains of the guardian's power."
"And if Eliar—if the guardian—regains his power..."
"Then a choice must be made," the merchant finished. "One that will either restore balance or shatter it completely."
Kai sat back, suddenly feeling the weight of what he'd discovered. He had been so focused on helping Eliar, on understanding their connection, that he hadn't considered the wider implications. If Eliar's power returning could tear the veil between worlds, could let those shadow creatures—those things that "hunger in the void"—into this realm...
"This doesn't make sense," he argued, looking back at the fragment. "Eliar was punished for showing compassion, for questioning orders. Why would his power returning be potentially catastrophic?"
"Power is neutral," the merchant said with a shrug. "It is intent that shapes its impact. And intent, after centuries of exile and isolation... who can say how that might change? Bitterness festers. Resentment grows. Even the most benevolent beings can be corrupted by sufficient suffering."
A cold dread settled in Kai's stomach. Could the merchant be right? Could Eliar's long punishment have twisted his original compassion into something darker? He thought of the guarded sadness in those star-filled eyes, the careful distance Eliar maintained, the way he spoke of his past—with regret, yes, but also with a lingering sense of injustice.
"There is more," the merchant said, interrupting his troubled thoughts. "The fallen guardian is not the only one aware of the prophecy. There are others who have watched and waited—some hoping for restoration, others fearing it."
"The Keepers," Kai guessed. "In Mistwood."
"Among others," the merchant agreed. "Forces align as the prophecy unfolds. Some will seek to aid you, believing the guardian's return to power will heal old wounds. Others will try to stop you, fearing the consequences should the choice go awry."
"And which side are you on?" Kai asked, suddenly wondering if this entire exchange might be manipulation rather than information.
The merchant's black eyes gleamed. "I am on the side of knowledge. Of witnessing. Of... possibility." They closed the box containing the prophecy fragment with a decisive snap. "Our transaction is complete. You have your information."
"And you have my magic and blood," Kai said, suddenly wondering if the price had been too high after all.
The merchant nodded, those unsettling eyes fixed on him with an intensity that made his skin crawl. "Both safely stored where they will serve their purpose." Their expression shifted to something that might have been amusement. "Though you may feel their absence in small ways. Magic yearns to be whole, as does life itself."
Something about the way they said it sent a chill down Kai's spine. He stood, suddenly eager to be away from the tent, from those unsettling black eyes, from the weight of prophecy and cosmic consequence.
"One last thing," the merchant called as Kai reached for the tent flap. "The choice mentioned in the prophecy? It may not be the guardian's alone to make."
Kai paused, glancing back. "What do you mean?"
"Catalysts don't merely trigger change," the merchant said, that too-sharp smile returning. "They shape it. Remember that when the moment comes."
Before Kai could ask anything more, the lamp in the tent flickered violently. When it steadied, the merchant was gone, leaving only the empty chair and table.
“I told you this was a bad idea,” Briar hissed, emerging from his collar now that they were alone. “Making deals with... whatever that was? Have you learned nothing from all the cautionary tales Silas is always telling you?”
“Apparently not,” Kai muttered, pushing through the tent flap back into the strange twilight of the market. The implications of what he'd learned churned in his mind, excitement giving way to growing unease.
He had wanted answers, and now he had them—at least partially. But instead of clarity, he felt only mounting concern. If he truly was this “Catalyst” mentioned in the prophecy, if his connection to Eliar was awakening powers long dormant, he might be setting in motion events with consequences far beyond Mistwood or even Thornhaven.
Kai picked up his pace as he left the Night Market behind, no longer concerned with stealth or caution. The thorny passage sealed itself behind him, the strange blue-tinged brambles intertwining so perfectly that no one would guess a thriving supernatural marketplace lay beyond.
“Slow down,” Briar gasped, clinging to his collar. “Where are we even going?”
“To find Eliar,” Kai replied, not breaking stride. “Right now.”
“What happened to waiting three days?” she asked. “And shouldn't we maybe think about what we just learned before rushing into another potentially world-ending situation?”
Kai shook his head. “If that prophecy is right, every moment our magic connects might be making things worse. The merchant said the veil between worlds could tear—like what happened with the Void Feeder, but worse.”
“So your plan is to... what? Tell Eliar to stop being magical near you?”
“I don't know,” Kai admitted, pushing through underbrush as he cut directly through the forest toward Mistwood. “But he needs to know what's happening. What might happen.”
The afternoon sun was already sinking toward the horizon, shadows lengthening across the forest floor. Kai estimated they were still at least an hour from Mistwood, maybe more if he couldn't find a direct path. He picked up his pace, driven by a growing sense of urgency that he couldn't entirely explain.
“You're worried about him,” Briar observed, her voice softer than usual. “Not just about prophecies and cosmic consequences. About him.”
Kai didn't deny it. The thought of Eliar—lonely, exiled, slowly regaining power that might prove dangerous to himself and others—created a tight knot of anxiety in his chest. It wasn't just about potential catastrophe anymore; it was about Eliar himself, about the quiet sadness in his eyes, about the way he'd pulled away when their magic connected as if afraid of feeling anything at all.
“If anyone's going to warn him about potential cosmic disaster, it should be me,” Kai said finally. “I'm the one who started this. I'm the... the Catalyst.” The word felt strange on his tongue, heavier than it should be.