The bell above the door gave off a hollow chime as Kairo stepped into the shop, the sound strangely muffled, like it had traveled through water before reaching their ears.
The moment they crossed the threshold, the world outside seemed to fade into a blur. The door closed behind them with a soft thud—quieter than it should have been. A peculiar stillness settled over the trio, the kind that made your skin feel a little too tight over your bones.
The air inside the shop was thick, almost heavy, and carried the scent of old paper, dried herbs, and something metallic… like rust, or perhaps blood, though faint enough to be dismissed as imagination. Shafts of pale light filtered in through the tall windows, dimmed by years of dust and tinted glass, casting colored shadows that moved as if they had a life of their own.
All around them, the shop stretched farther than it appeared from the outside. Cramped wooden shelves overflowed with relics, trinkets, and artifacts—items that looked ancient and long-forgotten, each with stories etched in scratches, cracks, and fading symbols. Instruments of unknown function. Books bound in scales and bark. Trinkets wrapped in silken thread. A mirror with a surface that didn't reflect. Things that whispered without sound.
Kairo instinctively slowed his pace, each step creaking against the weathered floorboards. Beside him, Liora matched his stride, glancing at the shelves with wary curiosity. Vivy had already drifted off to the right, drawn to a corner where dusty glass orbs floated in a slow, deliberate circle above a display case.
As they approached the counter, Kairo noticed the figure slumped behind it.
A young woman—curled into herself—lay asleep across the wooden surface. Her long violet hair draped down like a curtain, covering her entire face. Her cheek was squished against her arm, and the loose, oversized sleeves of her coat almost swallowed her hands completely. The outfit—soft grays and ashy purples layered over a faded indigo tunic—looked like it hadn't been changed in days, maybe weeks.
She was so still, so quiet, that for a moment, Kairo wondered if she was a doll. Only the subtle rise and fall of her breath gave her away.
He cleared his throat softly.
"Um… excuse me," Kairo said.
No response.
He leaned slightly closer. "Hello?"
Still nothing.
He looked back at Liora. She gave him a shrug.
Kairo frowned, lifted his hand, and gave her a gentle flick on the forehead.
Nothing. Not even a twitch.
He turned back toward the others, letting out a defeated sigh. "She's out cold. I tried."
Liora tilted her head. "Maybe try flicking her harder?"
Kairo raised an eyebrow. "You think that'll work?"
Liora grinned, mischief glinting in her eyes. "Sometimes you need a little force to wake the dead."
He looked back at the sleeping girl and gave a light shake of his head. "Alright, alright. Maybe you're right."
Just as he lifted his hand again—
A creak echoed behind them.
Kairo froze.
Liora's smile dropped.
Vivy turned slowly, her eyes narrowing.
A voice, soft but strangely sharp, cut through the quiet like a blade wrapped in silk.
"...So you are customers."
They all turned.
Kairo and Liora turned slowly toward the voice.
The girl who had been sleeping just seconds ago now sat upright behind the counter, arms stretching high above her head with a long, lazy yawn that made her look more like a cat than a shopkeeper. Her violet hair still draped over most of her face, but strands had shifted just enough to reveal part of a pale cheek and the curve of her lips, which curled into a sleepy, indifferent smile. Her sleeves slipped down her thin arms as she stretched, revealing a few strange markings near her wrists—faint, like ink that had bled too far into the skin.
Kairo's eyes flicked to his side and noticed Vivy had returned from wherever she had wandered. She stood now just a few steps away, head tilted slightly, watching the shopkeeper with a curious look. She must've heard her voice too, Kairo thought. Even from way back there.
The shopkeeper—Runda, as she introduced herself—spoke with a slow, almost dreamlike cadence.
"My name's Runda," she said, her words curling through the air like smoke. "And this is my antique shop. I'm sure you'll find something you need in time... so take your time. Look around."
Her voice held a softness that made everything she said sound more like a suggestion than a statement. There was no push, no insistence. Just calm certainty, like the wind telling you the direction of a coming storm.
Kairo stood silently, debating whether or not to ask her anything—but before he could decide, Liora stepped forward.
"Is there anything here that would actually be useful for traveling?" she asked, her voice clear, direct.
Runda gave a lazy nod. "Yes," she said simply. "If you look around enough, you'll find them."
Liora frowned slightly. "But how will I know what these things do? Most of them don't look… uh, ordinary."
"There are descriptions for each item," Runda replied, already halfway through another yawn. "Some are written. Some are… other ways. Just look closely. Pay attention."
Liora blinked, then nodded. "Thanks," she said, though she still looked a bit unsure.
She turned toward Vivy, opening her mouth to say something—only to find her already several steps ahead, lost again among the shelves.
"Wait for me!" Liora called, hustling to catch up.
Now alone at the front, Kairo took a moment to breathe in the strangeness of the place.
It felt less like a shop and more like the inside of a forgotten memory—everything in here smelled older than it looked, and even time itself seemed to bend at the corners of the room. The air buzzed faintly, like it held static or secrets. Somewhere near the back of the shop, a lantern flickered to life on its own.
Guess it's my turn too, Kairo thought, tightening the strap of his backpack before stepping away from the counter.
He moved slowly through the narrow aisles, eyes scanning the artifacts—an hourglass filled with shifting stardust, a compass with no needle, and a flute made of bone that hummed ever so slightly when he passed it. Each item had a small parchment nearby, handwritten in looping, uneven script, describing their supposed properties.
Kairo trailed his fingers across the edge of a table that held glass bottles filled with swirling fogs, tiny wooden figures with eyes too lifelike, and a folded map that twitched now and then like it was dreaming.
So many things, he thought. So many choices… but which one is useful?
Somewhere to his left, Liora let out a soft gasp of excitement.
Farther away, Vivy was whispering something—whether to herself or an object, he couldn't tell.
And at the counter, Runda rested her head back on her arms, watching them through the veil of violet hair like a cat watching birds from a window, saying nothing.
Kairo took a breath and continued deeper into the shop, unaware of the strange pulse that had started in the floor beneath his feet, faint as a heartbeat.
Kairo moved past shelves of glimmering oddities and strange humming devices, until something caught his eye near a narrow alcove—something that made him stop mid-step.
It was shaped like a dagger.
But unlike any weapon he'd seen before, this one looked… alive.
The blade, about the length of his forearm, was covered in thick, vein-like ridges that pulsed faintly with different hues—crimson, violet, deep forest green, and a blue so dark it bordered on black. The hilt looked like bone wrapped in vines, and the whole thing sat atop a velvet cloth that was torn and faded, like it had once been red but bled too much color into time.
He leaned in, reading the small parchment that sat beside it in slanted ink:
Name UnknownWorks only for humans.Can be used as a medium to speak with flowers.Can function as a weapon.Warning: Extremely dangerous without flower's power.
Kairo stared at the note, his brow furrowed.
Speak with flowers? he thought. What does that even mean? And… why only humans?
He scanned the blade again, looking for clues, but the more he looked, the more questions bloomed in his head. The thing seemed to thrum softly, as if aware of his presence. There was something about the way the colors in the veins moved, like rivers of thought winding through metal and root.
Still, one line stood out:
Can function as a weapon.
That was enough for now. He didn't know what this flower-talk meant, or why it had to be dangerous without it—but a weapon was useful. Especially where they were going.
Without another word, he reached down and picked it up. The dagger was cold, but not unpleasantly so. The veins pulsed once, as if in acknowledgment.
Kairo tucked it carefully into the side of his pack and moved on, though nothing else caught his attention the same way. After a few minutes of wandering and examining things that glowed, whispered, or changed shape when touched, he made his way back toward the others.
Liora spotted him first.
She practically skipped over, holding two strange items in her hands, eyes bright with excitement.
"Kairo!" she grinned. "You have to see what I found!"
He smiled, her energy oddly contagious. "Alright, show me."
She held up the first item: a small red needle, no longer than a finger. It shimmered slightly in the light, and faint sigils danced across its surface, barely visible.
"The description said it can multiply itself," Liora explained, her words spilling out fast. "And it can stop bleeding instantly. But not just that—it can even help with, like, mental problems. Memories, confusion, stuff like that. Isn't that amazing?"
Kairo raised a brow, nodding. "That's… actually really useful."
She grinned even wider, then pulled the second item from her side bag with a flourish. It looked like a sketchbook, but the cover was lacquered in golden liquid that moved when the light hit it—like sunlight trapped in honey.
"This one's insane," she whispered. "It says anything you draw can be pulled into the book, and you can also pull things out from inside. Like… real objects."
Kairo blinked. "You sure it doesn't mean metaphorically?"
"Nope." She smirked. "Literal. It even says to 'feed it ideas, and it'll return the favor.'"
He shook his head with a small laugh. "Well, you're definitely the artist of the group."
They both turned as Vivy approached quietly, her eyes fixed on the object in her hands.
Unlike Liora, she had only chosen one thing.
An old book, its cover worn and cracked, covered entirely in symbols and writing that neither of them recognized. It was bound in a dark leather that shimmered faintly with hints of green and gold under the dim shop lighting. Despite its age, it seemed sturdy—almost too sturdy.
Kairo tilted his head. "What's it say?"
Vivy looked up, expression unreadable. "The description said it reveals knowledge."
"Knowledge of what?"
She traced a finger slowly over the cover. "Anything. As long as I can match what I see with what's written in the book."
Kairo narrowed his eyes. "That sounds… cryptic."
"I like cryptic," Vivy replied softly.
The three of them stood there in the aisle, the strange items in their hands, the air around them pulsing faintly with the presence of magic, history, and things long forgotten.
Somewhere behind the counter, Runda let out a quiet hum, still half-drowsing, her head resting once again on her folded arms—yet her presence lingered in every shadowed corner of the shop.
None of them noticed the way the shelves seemed to shift slightly behind them. Or how the door they'd entered through no longer looked quite the same.
But for now, they had their items.And their journey was about to take a stranger turn.
After one last glance at the strange shelves and veiled corners of the shop, the three of them made their way to the counter, items in hand.
Kairo cleared his throat. "So, uh… how much for all of these?"
Runda barely stirred from her resting spot, her eyes half-lidded as she looked them over. Then, without a word, she slowly sat up straight and stretched her arms above her head, bones cracking faintly.
"Hand them over," she said, voice low and flat.
Kairo glanced at Liora and Vivy before shrugging and placing his dagger on the counter. Liora followed, placing the red needle and the golden sketchbook beside his. Vivy, without a word, laid down her old, symbol-covered book with a faint thud.
Runda picked them up, one by one, and disappeared into the storage room behind the counter. A minute passed in silence—two. Just when Kairo was about to call out, the door creaked open and Runda returned, cradling something in both arms.
It looked vaguely like a calculator… if a calculator had been stitched together from bone, glass, and old brass. Its buttons glowed faintly, and the screen showed symbols instead of numbers—symbols Kairo couldn't make sense of.
Runda began passing each item over the device. It made no sound. No clicks, no dings. Only the occasional flicker of light that moved across the screen in pulses.
When the final item passed through, she set the device down and looked at them.
"That'll be four hundred lo."
Silence.
The kind of silence that presses into your ears.
"Four… hundred?" Kairo echoed, voice flat.
"Lo?" Liora choked out. "As in—lo lo?"
Vivy didn't say anything. She was already stepping forward.
Kairo's brain reeled. Lo was no joke. In the human currency system, it went la, le, li, lo, and at the very top—lu. You needed a thousand la just to make one le, and it scaled upward from there. Most people in their status could live twenty years on five hundred li alone, provided they didn't waste it.
Four hundred lo wasn't just expensive. It was impossible.
At least, it should've been.
But before either of them could say anything more, Vivy pulled out a small, metallic coin pouch and emptied it over the counter. The soft clink of coins landing filled the air like rainfall. They shimmered pale green and deep silver—currency of high value.
Runda counted them quickly, then swept the items into a paper-wrapped bundle. "Pleasure doing business."
Kairo and Liora just… stared.
"Vivy," Liora finally managed. "How did you—?"
Vivy shrugged, almost bored. "I had enough."
"But…" Kairo started, brows scrunched. "Where'd you get that kind of money?"
She only offered a faint smile. "I'm a noble."
Neither of them were sure if that answer comforted or disturbed them.
"Still," Liora said, scratching the back of her neck, "thanks. Really. That would've taken us, like… five lifetimes."
"Yeah," Kairo nodded. "Thank you."
Vivy didn't respond with words. Just a faint nod and a smile that didn't quite reach her eyes.
Then she turned toward Runda again.
"There's something I want to ask," she said.
Runda leaned her elbows on the counter, curious. "Go ahead."
Vivy's eyes sharpened. "Does magic exist?"
Even Runda seemed caught off guard. Her eyes widened slightly before narrowing again. She looked at Vivy carefully, like trying to read something behind her face.
"…Yes," Runda said. "Don't you already know it?"
Vivy didn't respond to that. Her next words came quieter, more serious.
"I mean actual magic. Not flower power. Not species gifts. Not tricks or tools. Magic."
A long pause. Then Runda leaned back in her chair, a slow, strange smile creeping across her face.
"Yes," she said softly. "You've already stepped through a shop full of it. So why do you still doubt?"
Vivy didn't answer.
She simply turned and walked away.
"Let's go," she said over her shoulder.
And just like that, she exited the shop.
Kairo and Liora stood frozen for a second, unsure what to make of what just happened.
"…What was that about?" Liora muttered. "We've been taught magic isn't real. All of this," she gestured vaguely around the shop, "is just… other species' powers, right? Like the flowers for humans. The mist-speech of the Lurien. The sand shaping from the Arkarans."
Kairo nodded slowly, but his thoughts were spinning.
"Magic."The word echoed in his mind, unsettling.
Everything they'd been taught—magic didn't exist. The world functioned through different species' natural powers, each with unique systems. But Vivy's question, and Runda's answer, made something tighten in his chest. Like an itch he couldn't scratch.
Why did she ask that?And why did Runda answer like she did?
He wanted to ask more. Push further. But by the time he looked up from his thoughts, Liora had already left.
Kairo lingered one last moment, his eyes meeting Runda's across the counter.
Her smile was faint. Her eyes unreadable.
"Take care out there," she said.
Kairo hesitated, then gave her a small nod.
He stepped out into the fading light, the door closing with that strange, soft thud behind him.
As the door creaked shut behind Kairo, the strange stillness of the antique shop returned. The dust floated lazily in the shafts of golden light filtering through the high windows. A silence settled—deep, almost ancient.
Runda rose from her seat without a sound and moved slowly toward the window. She stood there, watching the three figures outside—walking away together, their silhouettes stretching long in the setting sun.
Her eyes softened.
"Children," she murmured, voice barely above a whisper. "Human children... I bless your journey."
She paused, her fingers brushing the edge of the glass.
"…It seems," she continued quietly, "they might be humanity's hope."
The weight of the words hung in the air like old dust. Her gaze lingered on them—until they disappeared from view.
"And if they are…" she said, almost to herself, "then they'll seek what no human dares to."
Her eyes turned distant. Sharp.
"The truth."
Another pause. This one longer. Heavier.
"…The one thing they never had in that quiet little hometown of theirs," she murmured. "In the place they called safest."
She turned from the window, the long shadows of the shop swallowing her figure as she stepped back into the dim light.
"They'll find it out there," she said, vanishing into the storage room once more."Where danger waits. Where no safety exists.Where truth… finally shows its face."
And then—silence again.
Just the soft ticking of a clock with no visible hands.