The air in the Mirage Market felt thick—almost solid—like misted glass bending and refracting the light around it, casting strange shadows and warping figures into grotesque shapes. Yara moved cautiously through the crowds, every sense heightened as she searched for any sign of the dragon egg.
The market itself was a mess, with stalls and shops crammed into every available space, their wares spilling out into narrow walkways. Overhead, the sky was a perpetual twilight, the sun—or whatever passed for it in this realm—filtered through a hazy, gray light.
Yara pulled her hood lower over her face, blending into the crowd of patrons who wandered the market. There was a rule she couldn't break for anything, stay on the path. She could taste the magic in the air, bitter and metallic on her tongue.
