The Mirage Market buzzed with a chaotic energy that clung to the air, thick and suffocating. The ever-shifting stalls shimmered under a fractured twilight that never seemed to fully settle into day or night.
As she moved deeper into the market, Yara noticed the crowd around her thinning out, the murmur of voices growing faint.
Yara wandered between rows of vendors selling things she couldn't name, many of them appearing more like manifestations of nightmares than goods meant for trade.
In a darkened corner, a haggard woman with hollow eyes beckoned Yara closer. Her fingers, gnarled like roots, held out a vial of swirling, black liquid. "For the lost soul," she croaked, her voice a raspy whisper. "One sip will reveal the way forward. But beware, it comes with a price."
