The night air was thick with the scent of burning incense and something unfamiliar—magic. You pulled your hood lower over your face to try and conceal the look of your nobility. You slipped through the narrow alleyways of the underground market, your heart pounding with both excitement and fear. This place wasn’t supposed to exist. Magic was something you had been told could only be inherited by blood, a gift granted at birth. And yet, here were relics, trinkets, and enchanted objects gleaming under lantern light, promising power to those who could afford it.

You wandered past makeshift stalls, each more fascinating than the last. Shopkeepers called out, voices thick with persuasion, trying to lure you in with whispered promises of power. Cursed rings that granted second chances, potions that could rewrite fate, pendants humming with raw energy. You resisted each offer, shaking your head politely—after all, you had brought no coin. You were here only to see, to understand.

But not everyone took kindly to that.

A sharp voice cut through the chatter. "This isn’t a place for window shopping!" A shopkeeper, his eyes burning with suspicion, pointed an accusatory finger at you. "What, are you a spy? A royal lapdog come to sniff us out?!"

Your breath hitched. The crowd quieted, heads turning toward you, their gazes shifting from wary to hostile. Your mind raced—how could you explain yourself? Could you even run?

Before you could speak, a firm hand landed on your shoulder.

"Don’t mind them," a voice interjected smoothly. "They’re new to my team—just got a bit too curious."

The tension broke in an instant. The shopkeeper huffed but backed down, muttering under his breath before turning away. The mysterious stranger, their grip still steady on your shoulder, leaned in slightly, their voice low enough for only you to hear.

"You’re lucky I was nearby."