Five years later
I reconfigured the strap of the bag hanging from my shoulder, its heaviness straining the muscles in my back.
The marketplace buzzed with noise and vibrancy—a tumultuous mixture of voices overlapping, the clanging of carts on cobbled streets, and the zesty aroma of freshly chopped herbs combined with the sweetness of honey-drizzled pastries.
My eyes scanned the lively square, noticing every detail: the vendor disputing with a farmer about rotten apples, the young boy pulling at his mother's dress, the outsider whose stare lingered just a moment too long on our stand.
*Stay alert,* Lyra whispered, her essence keen and vigilant in the recesses of my thoughts. *Consistently observe the crowd.*
*I am,* I reflected, clenching my jaw.
"Buy one, get one free!" Chloe's voice echoed, cheerful and assured, drawing my focus to the booth ahead of me.
