Night in Amexan grew more ominous, filled with the hurried footsteps of guards and the echo of shouted commands bouncing from wall to wall.
Amid the chaos, Godan, Marta, and Jomie managed to slip through the front gate of Serzad's mansion, taking full advantage of the distraction they had just created.
Jomie, panting heavily, grinned as he held up the remnants of a firecracker.
"I hope you're not mad… I used our Delas for this," he said, waving a small lighter in his hand.
Marta glared at him, a mix of frustration and relief on her face.
"Our Delas are almost gone, Jomie! That was reckless!"
"But look at the results!" Jomie countered, gesturing to the mansion now partially engulfed in flames from the burning curtains. The guards inside were in a panic.
Godan cut the argument short. "There's no time for this. We have to leave now! Run!"
The three of them sprinted away, ignoring the ache in their legs and the sweat pouring down their faces. Their breaths came in short bursts, but they pushed themselves to the limit, heading toward the rendezvous point Harlen had told them about.
* * * * *
Meanwhile…
Serzad Chroc stood in the doorway of his ransacked study, his sharp eyes fixed on the empty box where the artifacts and important documents had once been. Beside him, Karven's face was dark with fury.
"How could this happen?" Serzad's voice trembled with rage, half-shouting at the guards who stood with their heads bowed. "You were all just standing here while they stole from right under our noses!"
Serzad struck one of his guards, sending him sprawling to the ground.
"This isn't mere incompetence," Karven replied coldly, though his anger was palpable. "They knew exactly what they were looking for. Someone must have helped them."
"We'll catch them!" Serzad hissed, clenching his fists so tightly his knuckles turned white. "I swear, I'll get everything back. Even if I have to burn all of Somara to the ground!"
Karven's eyes narrowed as he stared at Serzad. "I want the artifact back as much as you do. But first, we need to deploy guards throughout Amexan. They couldn't have gone far."
Serzad nodded grimly. "You heard him, didn't you?!" he barked at the guards, his voice laced with menace.
"Yes, sir!"
"I want them alive. I'll deal with them myself."
As some guards worked to put out the flames, others began searching the city for the fugitives.
* * * * *
Godan, Marta, and Jomie finally reached their meeting point. In the distance, they spotted a modest vehicle, and a man was waving at them.
"Over here!" the man called, his voice low but firm. As they approached, he introduced himself. "My name is Fer. Harlen sent me to make sure you get out of here safely."
Before Godan could respond, Fer opened the back of the vehicle, revealing a cramped space covered by dark fabric.
"Hurry up, get in and hide. We need to move now!"
Without hesitation, the three climbed into the back of the vehicle. Fer swiftly closed the cover and began driving away from Amexan.
The ride was silent, save for the hum of the engine and the rattling of wheels over the uneven road. Marta peeked out from behind the fabric to confirm they were far enough from the city.
"Do you think Fer can be trusted?" Marta asked cautiously.
Godan thought for a moment. "If Harlen sent him, he's probably reliable. But we still need to stay on guard."
Jomie, still holding the firecracker remnants, chuckled. "I think I like him. At least he didn't yell at us for making a mess in Amexan."
Godan sighed. He knew this journey was far from over.
* * * * *
After several hours, the vehicle stopped on an isolated road. The sun had risen, casting its harsh light over the desolate landscape. Fer stepped out, opened the back cover, and addressed them.
"We're far from Amexan now," he said. "We'll have to part ways here. But before that, where are you heading?"
Godan pulled out their map, which had changed once again. This time, the glowing mark pointed to a new location—the Black Market.
"The Black Market," Godan murmured, showing the map to Fer.
Fer, a tall and muscular man clad in practical Amexan attire, frowned. "The Black Market? That's no ordinary place. It's dangerous. But if that's where you're going, I can drop you at the nearest crossroads. You'll have to go the rest of the way on foot."
Godan nodded. Before they parted ways, he reached into his bag and pulled out the documents they had taken from Serzad's mansion.
"Please give these to Harlen," he said, handing the papers to Fer. "They're evidence against Serzad. We can't risk carrying them any further."
Fer's eyes lit up with a mix of excitement and determination.
"These… these are the documents we've been looking for!"
"We?" Marta asked, curious.
"We, the citizens who've suspected the Chroc family for years," Fer explained. "Serzad's sudden wealth, his parents, his uncles, and aunts—it's all too suspicious."
"What about his wife?" Marta recalled the elegant, soft-spoken woman at the dinner table.
"Her? Worse!" Fer said passionately. "She's the one behind the tax hikes, flaunting expensive jewelry at every social event!"
Godan understood the significance of what they'd done. By accident or fate, they had helped the people of Amexan expose Serzad's corruption.
Fer looked at Godan seriously. "I'll make sure Harlen gets these. Take care of yourselves. The Black Market is no safer than Amexan."
After dropping them at a nearby crossroads, Fer bade them farewell. The trio continued their journey on foot, following the narrow path leading to the glowing mark on their map.
The midday heat was relentless, and exhaustion began to take its toll. They paused occasionally to nibble on dry bread and sip what little water they had left, determined to press on despite their weariness.
* * * * *
The Black Market: Shadows of the Unknown
At the end of the narrow path, the looming shadow of the Black Market finally came into view. Dim lights from a few shabby stalls flickered in the distance, casting a faint glow through the murky air.
The place was alive with noise. The chaotic sounds of bargaining, hushed whispers of clandestine deals, and an almost hypnotic hum that seemed to seep into the air.
Godan, Marta, and Jomie exchanged cautious glances. They knew this journey to the Black Market would mark the beginning of a far more dangerous chapter.
At the entrance, a large, tattered banner hung above, its dark background nearly blending into the shadows. Silver letters spelled out the words
'Welcome to the Black Market! Please Register at the Shadow Gate.'
True to its name, the Black Market was a labyrinth of buildings painted in a deep, obsidian black, absorbing what little light surrounded it.
The market was located at the edge of a vast, dark lake, its still surface reflecting the ominous architecture above.
This infamous place was known not only for its secrecy but also for its strict security. There was only one way in and out. A narrow path that ended at a checkpoint, where a wooden booth stood under a flickering, dim lamp.
The air was thick, a mix of damp wood and lingering smoke as Godan, Marta, and Jomie approached the entrance.
Inside the booth sat a scruffy-faced man with an annoyingly smug expression. A bone pipe hung lazily between his teeth, thin wisps of smoke curling from its tip.
"I'm Arthon Parda," the man rasped without bothering to lift his head.
He gave a lazy glance toward two massive guards stationed beside him. The guards looked as if they could crush boulders with their bare hands.
"State your full names!" Arthon barked, his tone sharp and unforgiving.
Godan glanced at Marta and Jomie. "Full names? We haven't used those in years," he replied calmly, though his voice carried a hint of caution.
Arthon narrowed his eyes, a sly grin forming on his lips.
"No full names, no entry," he said flatly. "And if you try to make something up, we'll know. Trust me, these guys here"—he gestured toward the towering guards—"don't take kindly to liars."
Marta bit her lip, her fingers instinctively clutching the hem of her cloak. Jomie shifted uneasily, his fingers brushing against the small firecracker tucked away in his pocket.
After a tense silence, Godan stepped forward. Taking a deep breath, he locked eyes with Arthon's sharp, probing gaze.
"Godan Gearlock," he said firmly.
Marta followed, her voice steady yet soft. "Marta Amberlash."
Jomie hesitated, his usual confidence faltering for a moment. But after a quick inhale, he added, "Jomie Jaelwyn."
Arthon raised an eyebrow, tapping his pipe against the edge of the booth.
"Gearlock, Amberlash, Jaelwyn," he muttered, as though testing the names.
His gaze shifted to a strange device on the table—a metallic orb glowing faintly with a soft purple hue. The orb emitted a low hum, its light growing brighter with each name spoken.
After a moment, Arthon leaned back in his chair, seemingly satisfied. "Alright," he said, waving them through. "You may enter. Welcome to the Black Market."
The towering guards stepped aside, clearing the path for them.
As they entered, the market's sounds enveloped them. Murmured conversations, the clinking of coins, and the occasional shouts of merchants advertising their wares.