Haruaki's boots echoed on the Veil's shimmering pavement, each step sending ripples of star-like glints across the ground. The air buzzed with a strange energy, like the hum of a city on the edge of chaos, and the bruised-purple sky pulsed faintly overhead. Rina led the way, her staff tapping rhythmically, while Yumi walked beside him, her presence both comforting and unsettling. Kuro perched on Haruaki's shoulder, his claws digging into his jacket, muttering about the "stink of trouble" in the air. The Gatekey in Haruaki's pocket thrummed, its warmth a constant reminder of the danger he carried—and the power.
They'd left Rina's safehouse in a hurry, the threat of the Veil's elite looming like a storm. Yumi's warning had shaken him, her words about powerful people hunting him sinking deep. He didn't know who they were, but the memory of the Veilspawn's ember eyes and the old man's blood-soaked death told him enough: the Veil wasn't just dangerous—it was a predator, and he was prey. For now, at least.
"Where are we going?" Haruaki asked, his voice low, though the Veil's strange acoustics made it carry. The buildings around them were jagged, their obsidian surfaces reflecting distorted versions of the neon glyphs that flickered like living things.
Rina didn't look back. "The Market," she said, her tone clipped. "If we're gonna keep you alive, we need supplies. And information. The Veil's elite don't move without leaving ripples, and the Market's where those ripples show."
"Market?" Haruaki's mind flashed to the Lower District's grimy stalls, where vendors hawked knockoff tech and day-old dumplings. "Like, for food?"
Kuro cawed, a harsh laugh. "Not quite, kid. Think bigger. Richer. And a lot more likely to get you killed."
Yumi's hand brushed his arm, her touch light but deliberate. "The Veil Market's not like anything in Eldridge," she said, her dark eyes scanning the street. "It's where the Veil's power flows—artifacts, spells, secrets. The elite run it, and they don't play nice with outsiders."
Haruaki's jaw tightened. "So why are we walking into their turf?"
"Because," Rina said, finally glancing back, her fire-red eyes glinting, "hiding won't help. You're Fractureborn, rookie. That key makes you a target, and the Market's the only place we can figure out who's after you—and why."
They turned a corner, and the street opened into a sprawling plaza that stole Haruaki's breath. The Veil Market was a riot of color and sound, a labyrinth of stalls and floating platforms that defied gravity, tethered by shimmering chains of light. Neon glyphs pulsed brighter here, spelling out offers in languages Haruaki couldn't read but somehow understood—Eternal Youth, One Soul, Time Shard, Sealed, Veilspawn Heart, Fresh. The air crackled with magic, thick with the scents of molten metal, blooming flowers, and something sharp, like ozone after a lightning strike.
The vendors were as varied as the wares—hooded figures with glowing eyes, creatures with too many limbs, and humans who moved with an unnatural grace. The customers were worse: men and women in robes that shimmered like liquid gold, their fingers dripping with rings that pulsed with power. They glided through the Market, their wealth not in coins but in the artifacts they carried—staffs that hummed, amulets that bent the air, blades that whispered. These were the Veil's elite, the aristocrats Rina had warned him about, and their presence was a weight, a reminder of how small he was in this world.
"Stay close," Rina muttered, weaving through the crowd. "And don't touch anything. Half the stuff here'll curse you faster than you can blink."
Haruaki nodded, his eyes darting from stall to stall. One vendor offered a glass orb filled with swirling smoke, claiming it held a captured moment. Another displayed a dagger that bled when touched, its price a memory no one could afford. A woman with silver hair and eyes like voids beckoned him toward a table of glowing vials, her smile too sharp. "Fractureborn," she purred, her voice slithering into his mind. "I have what you need."
Haruaki froze, his heart pounding. How did she know? Rina grabbed his arm, yanking him away. "Ignore her," she hissed. "Sirens. They smell power and feed on it."
Yumi stayed close, her expression tense. "They're all watching you," she whispered. "The key—it's like a beacon."
Kuro ruffled his feathers, his voice low. "Told you, kid. Trouble magnet."
They stopped at a stall run by a man with a mechanical arm, its gears whirring softly. His face was scarred, one eye replaced by a glowing lens that clicked as it focused on Rina. "Fire-witch," he greeted, his voice rough. "Didn't expect you back so soon. Who's the new blood?"
"None of your business, Taro," Rina said, tossing a small crystal onto the counter. It pulsed faintly, and Taro's lens whirred, appraising it. "I need a tracker ward and a cloaking rune. Strong ones. And whatever you've heard about Gatekeys."
Taro's eye flicked to Haruaki, lingering on his pocket. "Gatekeys, huh? Dangerous talk. Word is, one surfaced recently. Got the elite in a frenzy. They say it's tied to a Fractureborn." His lens clicked, focusing tighter. "You wouldn't know anything about that, would you?"
Haruaki's hand twitched toward the key, but Rina stepped between them. "Just the ward and rune, Taro. Keep the gossip."
Taro chuckled, sliding two small stones across the counter—one etched with a spiral, the other glowing faintly blue. "Fine. But watch your back, fire-witch. The Veil's aristocracy don't like surprises."
As Rina pocketed the stones, a ripple ran through the Market. The crowd parted, and a man approached, his presence commanding silence. He was tall, his robes a deep crimson that shimmered like blood, embroidered with gold threads that moved like living things. His hair was silver, his eyes a piercing green, and the staff in his hand crackled with energy that made Haruaki's skin prickle. The air around him bent, as if reality itself bowed to his will.
"Lord Varyn," Taro muttered, his mechanical arm twitching. The vendor bowed low, and others followed, a wave of deference that made Haruaki's stomach turn.
Rina tensed, her staff sparking. Yumi stepped closer to Haruaki, her hand on his arm. "Don't look at him," she whispered. "He's one of them."
Lord Varyn's gaze swept the Market, lingering on Haruaki for a heartbeat too long. His smile was cold, predatory, and Haruaki felt the Gatekey pulse, almost in warning. "Such a lively gathering," Varyn said, his voice smooth as silk but heavy with power. "I trust all is well in my Market?"
No one answered. The silence was suffocating, broken only by Kuro's soft caw. Varyn's eyes flicked to the crow, then back to Haruaki. "Curious," he murmured, before turning away, his robes trailing like a storm cloud. The crowd exhaled as he vanished into the Market's depths, but the tension remained.
"Let's go," Rina said, her voice low. "Now."
They moved quickly, slipping through the stalls, but Haruaki's mind raced. Varyn's gaze had felt like a blade against his throat, and the Market's opulence—the wealth, the power—made him feel smaller than ever. These were the elite Yumi had warned him about, the ones who'd kill for the key. And they were already watching.
As they reached the Market's edge, a shadow flickered overhead. Haruaki looked up, his breath catching. A creature hovered above, its wings like torn silk, its eyes glowing red. It wasn't a Veilspawn—not exactly—but it felt wrong, its presence a violation of the Veil's strange order. Rina cursed, raising her staff, but Yumi grabbed Haruaki's hand, pulling him toward an alley.
"Run!" she shouted, as the creature dove, its scream splitting the air.
Haruaki's chest burned, the Gatekey pulsing wildly. He felt the Veil's time zones again, that jagged rhythm, and without thinking, he reached for it. Pain seared through him, his vision blurring as time slowed—just for a moment. The creature's wings froze mid-beat