I took a slow walk outside, the sun barely cutting through the thick clouds overhead. My boots tapped against the cobblestones as I made my way to a quiet corner of the city and stepped into a small shop. The soft chime of a bell rang above me—simple, clear, yet unmistakably deliberate. A signal. I was here.
The lone staff member behind the counter glanced up, offered me a smile. I gave her one in return, the kind that didn't reach the eyes. She didn't expect it to.
I wandered through the narrow aisles, my fingers brushing past worn book spines until I picked out three: one black, one red, one green. It didn't matter what they said inside. In this place, the book you picked wasn't about what you read—it was what you wanted.
I placed them on the counter. She looked at me, eyes scanning the combination. Then she pointed, wordless, to the staircase at the back.
I nodded and made my way up.
This wasn't your usual bookstore. No, this was the real black market. Not the kind with shady vendors selling stolen goods on back alleys—but the kind of place where the weight of silence was more dangerous than any sword.
There were three floors: the upper level, where I was now headed, was for information—classified, buried, and sometimes cursed. The first basement? Artifacts, weapons, and things you're better off not touching unless you know what you're doing. And the second basement... slave trades and underground death matches. Brutal, raw, and deeply unpleasant. I'd only gone once, back when Gars dragged me in. He liked betting on fighters. I didn't. Not my scene.
When I reached the top floor, she handed me a yellow-bound book without a word. My cue. I scanned the area until I saw it: a yellow mark etched onto the corner of a bench. My seat. I sat down, finding a man already there, waiting. He didn't look up. Didn't need to.
"What do you know about sacrifices during the Time of Life?"
He didn't answer at first. Then, with a snap of his fingers, the man beside him raised both hands. A faint, invisible hum pulsed around us—Clarion of Hearing. A sound barrier. No one outside could eavesdrop now.
"It's not unheard of," he said at last, voice calm but rough. "Usually, it's the desperate ones—deities who haven't ascended in centuries. They get nervous. Need believers to keep moving."
"So you think one of them might be starting early?"
"Could be. If they still have followers and they're jumping ahead of the cycle, then yeah... they're rotten. Sacrifices during the Time of Life are useless. No power in it. Waste of blood. You sure the one you're worried about wasn't kidnapped instead?"
I explained about the villager. His expression twisted with mild annoyance.
"Probably bullshit," he muttered. "But just in case you're serious about checking it out—get yourself a Soul Intaction artifact. It's cheap, low-grade, but good enough to keep your soul anchored. Stops a deity from sliding into you like a pair of old boots. Seen it happen more than I'd like."
"Possession?"
He nodded. "When a deity wants to move in the physical world, they need a host. Humans are their go-to."
"Why not anything else?"
"Too unstable. Humans are balanced. Emotions, body, Clarion usage—we're the best all-rounders. That's why most legendary Clarion users? All human."
I leaned back. Let that sink in. Deities, timelines, sacrifices out of season—it was all starting to fray at the edges.
I stood up. He looked up at me for the first time.
"Tell Jena," he said, "Bright gave you the intel."
I nodded, the sound barrier flickering out with a low hum. As I walked out, I caught a glance at the other tables—each marked with different colors, each for a different type of information. Every table had their own 'expert' seated, paired with a Clarion user to ensure privacy. Quiet, efficient.
I passed Jena on my way out and flicked her a gold coin. She gave a small bow in return. Same practiced smile. Same unspoken rules.
Back out in the open, things felt too loud.
I spotted Taskhand around half an hour later and noticed the man from yesterday—yeah, the one who came crying about his village—being dragged out again. Wanora must've kicked him out a second time.
Taskhand was busy. Noisy. Lively. A small tavern-turned-guild filled with all sorts—rookies, veterans, half-drunk adventurers clinging to a coin's worth of hope. Despite the numbers, no one had taken that village task. Not a single soul.
And really, I couldn't blame them. Too far. Too isolated. Too little pay. No guarantee of coming back.
In a place where people took coin to fetch cats and carry letters, walking into a possible deity's den wasn't exactly on the daily to-do list.
I stepped into Taskhand and spotted Gars slouched over a table, nursing a lukewarm drink. He looked up as I approached.
"Hey."
"Hey," he echoed. "Up early, huh?"
"Yeah," I said, sliding into the seat across from him. "You kicked that guy?"
He let out a long sigh. "Wanora told me to."
"You've been gone a while. What was up with that?"
"A cat."
"Ah." I paused, then blinked. "Again?"
"Yeah, the same lady. Keeps losing it. Pain in the ass."
"Who is she anyway?"
"Beats me. Never says her name. Just posts a request and insists only I can find her cat."
"That's sad, man."
He shrugged.
I glanced around. "Where's Wanora?"
"She's on break. That's why I'm stuck here."
"That so?"
"Mm."
I leaned back, rubbing the bridge of my nose. "Hey, do you think I should take Wanora to that village? Where that guy keeps coming from?"
"You mean Ophean?"
My head tilted. "That's his name?"
He nodded. "Weird name, yeah. But then again, who in this world doesn't have one?"
I didn't respond. Just got up and headed through the inner door, the one only we could use. It was a second home—quiet, tucked in the back of Taskhand. Only me, Sinus, Monday, Wanora, and Gars lived there.
Wanora was lounging on the couch, flipping through a crumpled newspaper. She didn't look up when I walked in, but I sat down on the edge of the couch anyway.
"Let's go," I said.
She looked over the paper at me. "I was wondering where you went. I can probably guess."
"Yeah, probably. I checked upstairs. Got some info. It's still the Time of Life, so… unlikely it's a deity."
"Deity?" she echoed.
We both stared at each other in silence. Then she let out a nervous laugh. "Ah—yeah. Deity. Yep. I actually thought about that too! But it is the Time of Life, so, you know—probably not, right?"
I just stared.
She avoided my eyes.
"You didn't know, did you?" I asked.
"Are you doubting me now?" she said, eyes narrowing.
"Yeah."
She scoffed. "Well, I know there aren't any deities around during the Time of Life."
I raised an eyebrow. "So let's go?"
She tossed the newspaper aside, stood up, and stretched. "Let's go."