The small village market buzzed with the chatter of merchants and the clatter of hooves on cobblestones, but your attention was fixed on a figure near the herbalist's stall. She stood out—not because of her beauty, though she was striking with wild curls the color of autumn leaves, but because of the odd way she moved, as though she were testing each step.

You only meant to help when you saw her drop a bundle of dried lavender, but when you handed it back, her green eyes locked onto yours with an intensity that made the bustling world around you blur.

"Thank you," she said, her voice lilting and soft, though it carried an otherworldly cadence. "Not many would notice."

"It was nothing," you replied, though you couldn't shake the feeling that you'd done more than you realized.

The woman hesitated, then smiled—a secretive, almost mischievous smile—and reached into the folds of her shawl. From it, she withdrew an amulet, its surface smooth as polished moonlight and set with a single opalescent gem.

"For your kindness," she said, pressing it into your palm. The metal felt warm, almost alive, against your skin.

Before you could protest or even properly thank her, she leaned closer, her breath brushing your ear as she whispered, "Guard it well. It may guide you to places you cannot yet imagine."

You blinked, and she was gone, leaving only the faint scent of wildflowers in her wake. The amulet hummed softly in your hand, and you couldn't shake the feeling that your life had just irrevocably changed.