The market was especially lively that day.

  Voices came from every direction, haggling, laughter, merchants calling out their offers. People moved from stall to stall, hands full.

  You stepped between them, following Vael down a winding row of booths where each stall seemed stranger than the last.

  One caught your eye.

  It was hidden between two larger tables, and presented dozens of tiny statues. Each was no taller than your hand, carved from stone, bone, or some sort of polished clay. Most were shaped like gods or spirits—at least, that was the impression. Some had wings, or horns, some wore crowns or masks.

  One had the shape of a scale, balanced delicately, with one side heavier than the other.

  “Fortune and justice,” Vael said beside you. “Or something like it. They don’t bother with the names anymore.”

  You picked up another. I was shaped like a sea serpent, with horse mane and arms raised to the sky. You turned it over. Céle?stine was written on the back.

  “Look at this,” Vael muttered, holding up a figure carved from bright black wood. “That’s supposed to be éryth.”

  The carving looked sleek and smooth. Definitely not how the temple depicted the god.

  Vael smiled. “Used to be a god of silence and ash. Now he’s got his own prayer candles and festival masks. Went fully commercial, I guess.”

  You were about to set the figure down when your hand came over a different statue near the edge of the stall.

  It was of a man, or something that used to be one. He had a round belly, a long nose, and a grin that stretched wide across his face. His other feature, his most obvious one, was hard to miss.

  Vael raised an eyebrow. “Charming.”

  That’s when the stall owner stepped in.

  “Ah!” the man said, clapping his hands together. He was short and wiry, with gray hairs on his chin and a vest covered with tiny pockets. “I see you've found the lucky one! He’s caught your eye, eh?”

  He leaned in a little too close, giving you a wink.

  “No worries, my friend, no shame in a strong spirit. This one’s for blessings of pleasure and prosperity. Very powerful. And look—hand-carved. I can have it installed in your house by the weekend.”

  You took a step back. “That’s… alright, thanks.”

  “Any troubles with the lady?” the man asked Vael, flashing a crooked smile. “This one will sort them right out. Trust me.”

  Vael shook his head. “We’re just browsing.”

  “Of course, of course,” the seller said, but he lingered, still eyeing you with that salesman's persistence. “People laugh, but I’ve sold three of these just this week. Lot more traffic today than usual. They're all stocking up. Getting ready.”

  “Ready for what?” you asked.

  He looked surprised for a moment, then let out a chuckle. “The Hollowing, of course.”

  Vael glanced up, curious. “Hollowing?”

  The merchant nodded. “Old tradition. Real old. Used to be a harvest thing, back when this place was still all dirt roads and cattle paths. Folks wore masks, lit candles in hollowed gourds, that sort of thing. Supposed to keep the spirits happy.”

  You grimaced. “And now?”

  “Well…” the man shrugged, “Elias brought it back. Said we could use something to bring the town together. So, it’s tonight. Starts after sunset.”

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  He gave a crooked grin and tapped the statue of the grinning man again. “Good time for a blessing, eh?”

  You nodded, then stepped away from the statue vendor—though something in the way he said it made your skin crawl.

  Vael was already ahead, making his way toward another stall near the corner of the market. This one was full of crates with vegetables and jars stacked three rows high. Bright peppers, misshapen onions, pickled roots.

  But it was one jar in particular Vael pulled from the top shelf, filled with pale green beans threaded with gold.

  He held it up to the light. Then, from under his coat, he brought the jar Joric had given him.

  “Same markings,” Vael said, low enough only you could hear.

  The seller noticed. He was a lanky man with thinning hair and a nervous smile. He rubbed his hands down his apron. “Can I help you with something? Looking for pickles, maybe? Or something a little spicier?”

  You took another jar of beans from the pile.

  “These were sold to a farmer,” you said. “Claimed to be magic.”

  The man blinked. “Magic? No, no, I—I sell food. Pickles, roots, beans, just regular produce. Nothing magic here.”

  Vael remained silent.

  The man’s voice suddenly dropped. “That damn Joric’s been making a fool of himself ever since… Someone must’ve slipped him that jar as a joke.”

  You folded your arms. “Joric, huh? That’s interesting. I don’t remember telling you his name.”

  The seller blinked. His mouth opened, then closed again.

  “I—I just figured. He’s the only one making a fuss lately. Word gets around. Look, I didn’t mean harm—”

  Vael’s hand shot out, gripping the front of the seller’s apron and pulling him across the stall.

  “Last chance,” Vael snapped, his voice low and sharp. “Start talking. Spill the beans, as they say, before I start picking up teeth.”

  “Some guy came by,” the man blurted. “Told me to pass that jar along to Joric. Said it’d be funny. Teach him a lesson or something. I had no idea it’d actually work, alright?”

  Vael didn’t loosen his grip.

  “What guy?” you asked, stepping in closer.

  “I don’t know his name,” the seller stammered. “Big belly, wore an apron—one of the tavern keepers, I think. I’d seen him around a few times. Always smelled like wine and ashes. He said if I didn’t help, he’d smash my stall to pieces.”

  Vael’s jaw clenched. “Why target Joric?”

  The man shook his head helplessly. “I don’t know. Honest. If I did, I’d have asked him myself. But now they’re all dead anyway, right? Tavern’s shut down. He’s probably one of the ones they pulled out in pieces.”

  Vael let go of his apron, and the seller sagged back against the stall, eyes wide and shaken. “You should’ve said something sooner,” Vael muttered. “You think this is still a joke?”

  He went on. “Who else was involved? Names. Now.”

  But before you could hear the rest, something pulled at you, a cold finger running down your spine.

  You blinked. The noise of the market seemed to fade.

  Not now, you thought.

  Not here.

  You glanced around and murmured, “Burk… is that you?”

  The voice came sluggishly, like someone waking from a nap.

  Hm? What’s that now? Don’t know what you’re talking about.

  Vael rearranged the collar of his coat and gave you a look. “You felt that too, didn’t you?” he asked. “Same as before. Back at the lake.”

  You nodded. There was no other way to describe it. The feeling that someone was listening.

  “That wasn’t him,” Vael said plainly. “Burk’s too lazy to sneak around. Feels more like… company. Or maybe just someone who thinks they’re being clever.”

  He turned in place, eyes going over the market.

  Dozens of people moved through the stalls, shouting, laughing. The crowd was thick. There were children running between crates, vendors waving at passersby. Too many faces. No way to tell.

  Vael’s expression went hard. He looked up, speaking aloud.

  “Burk.”

  A groggy voice slithered into your mind.

  What now? I’m trying to sleep.

  “Make it rain.”

  Rain? In the middle of the day? Bit dramatic, don’t you think?

  “Just do it.”

  A sigh followed. Fine. But if someone blames me for ruining their produce, I’ll pin it on you.

  The sky began to change, just a breeze at first, then the light dimmed, clouds rolling in from nowhere. The first drops were thin, barely more than a mist. Then the rain came down hard.

  It hit all at once. Buckets of water poured from the sky, crashing over stalls and soaking everything in sight.

  “My stock!” the vegetable seller cried, scrambling to pull a tarp over his goods. Other merchants rushed to pack up.

  People scattered, shouting and ducking for cover. Stalls snapped, baskets tipped over.

  But one person didn’t move.

  She stood there in the mud and the rain, still and unbothered. A girl, young, barefoot. Her eyes were locked on you. And she was smiling.

  You stepped closer. “That’s her,” you said. “The girl from the temple.”

  Vael squinted through the rain.

  The moment your eyes met, the girl turned. She hurried fast and sure, disappearing into the crowd.

  “Burk,” Vael said, sharp now. “Follow her. Don’t let her slip away!”

  Another groan.

  Then he was gone.

  Vael reached into his coat and pulled out his notes, shielding the pages from the rain with his arm.

  “She’s connected,” he said. “All of it is. The beans, the tavern, that girl…”

  He flipped through the pages, reading them quickly. “If the pattern's right, the others might tell us more.”

  He nodded toward the road ahead.

  “The midwife’s house just a little farther. Let’s keep going.”