Cautious steps took her towards the mundane doors and the sign atop told her that this really was the place, not that she needed the sign's confirmation. There were a number of places in the world that were warded from her prying eyes, but not ever one that was in this part of the city.
The reason why her current actions were prompted was because a new variable appeared, one that was entirely foreign to the weave she's viewed a million times.
She did not get to grow as old as she did if she couldn't ascertain the factors of new variables and estimating the dangers they carried.
She looked down to the relic around her neck and the frown on her face tightened. As the guardian of the ancient relic for the last few centuries, the bond between the two of them could be called intimate, in a way of speaking, and it should have notified her the moment the tapestry fluctuated, except that it didn't.
She had to personally be there to witness a moment never seen before in the grand tapestry for her to know that something was incredibly wrong.
In the great tapestry, unrelated events were hardly unrelated as everything was connected in one way or the other, weaving a grand web to the Greater Will. And hours ago she was reminded of this lesson, having a front row seat as it played out.
Dr. Stephen Strange, honored as a memorable persona in the weave, was someone she had been keeping an eye on for a long time – since the day he was born – that she knew every single thing about his life; like the exact number of patients he would save in his practice.
So familiar that she could only stare transfixed as a completely new event played out in front of her and it involved someone that was never supposed to be here — not this soon, and not in that outfit.
She watched as young Peter Parker, in his iconic Spiderman outfit – an outfit that should not exist for at least a few months, with quality that should take him at least a decade to acquire – disengaged from a high speed chase and swooped down to carry a man that the car had hit to the nearest hospital — the same hospital that Stephen Strange worked in.
This was a meeting that never happened. None of the branches she'd peered into ever recorded an event like this, and there were two reasons for that:
First, young Peter Parker was never supposed to be as dressed as he was by this time. He should have been in a mask, a patched up hoodie and heavy pants, for the next few months before having the avenue to acquire a suit – of vastly lowered quality – like the one he was wearing.
Secondly, and most importantly, Spiderman was only ever supposed to meet Dr. Strange… not Dr. Stephen Strange. This was an absolute point because Spiderman, as acknowledged as he was, was never supposed to exist this soon.
She could excuse herself for being unaware of the stark changes to young Peter's future because she didn't peer that much into the lives of the heroes and other notable persons as there was literally no reason for her to do so.
What she couldn't excuse was the relic around her neck failing to warn her of the new weave she had been living in, for quite some time too from the looks of it.
She had teleported back to the Sanctum and immediately went to check on the wards of the three Sanctums and only after doing that did she isolate herself and peered into the Eye to view the new changes made to the weave… only for her to see nothing.
She could see the impossible events that happened a few minutes ago, something that should have lit a bonfire in the weave, but there was nothing strange about it. She could see that what was supposed to be a new weave was instead seamlessly blended into the others.
She instantly knew something was wrong when she peered further into today's weave and saw that its future was no different than the others close to it. That should not be possible.
She understood.
The changes being made were hidden. They were already made part of the weave but until those changes happened, nothing new could be seen — it'll simply blend into the others.
Being the Keeper of the Eye for as long as she had, she quickly identified the source of the branching path by following events around Peter Parker's life, until she couldn't.
She could see everything that had happened around him, and even the possibilities if she wanted, but there was one single moment where Peter Parker completely disappeared from her sights, which was also when the changes started happening — when he entered the store in front of her.
It was not a magical ward or a powerful artifact that hid him from her. No, that wasn't it.
Peter Parker effectively disappeared from the purview of Time itself for the few minutes he was in the store.
So now here she was, paying a… 'courtesy visit' while she had the other Masters watching the wards around the Sanctums.
She stood in front of the door and yet she couldn't feel anything that indicated that some great magic was cast here. The door and the store as a whole were as mundane as any other shop along this street could be.
Her heart and soul were the picture lake of tranquility as she pushed open the doors, pausing just a moment to look up at the bell that was rung on her entrance.
She felt something pull up behind her as she stepped past the threshold and yet she couldn't understand what it was.
She saw a man at the counter but her steps remained unhurried as she glanced both left and right, eyes drawn to a number of items hung up in different parts of the store.
She finally arrived at the counter, the man behind it smiling patiently at her and not offended that she took her time. She couldn't sense anything from him.
"Welcome to Junk 'N Stuff. Interested in anything you see?" He appeared jovial enough but she'd dealt with demons for far more times than anyone ever should.
She smiled at him. Conversation was a good start. Once again her eyes roamed some of the things on his countertop. "Quite the assortment you have here."
The smile on his face widened, easily pleased by her compliment and her good eye for quality.
"Many thanks." He folded his hands across his chest, a ray of pride wafting off of him. "Every piece of trinket you see, I can assure you, is of the utmost quality, of authentic make, or is a vintage piece."
"Now you're bragging." She pointed out, still smiling.
His smile turned challenging. "If you can prove me wrong then I'll let you have any one item for free."
Deals. She laughed and shook her. "I'll humor you for now but I'll be keeping an eye out." She had made enough deals in her life to know when to not make one.
"So what exactly is this store about? I've seen enough to get the idea but tell me."
"But of course. My name is Isaac, and I'm a Merchant, and this," he gestured openly at the store, "is my little domain where simple and honest trade can be carried out. Goods from lands you've never seen, never heard of, and can never go to are readily made available for your purchase. Whatever you want, as long as you have the means, is open for trade."
Her eyes narrowed and her fingers flexed. She saw the flash of pride when he called himself a 'Merchant', in a way that insinuated that it was more of a title than a job occupation.
"A trade you say." Now why did that word tickle her? Maybe because she could remember some 'fond' memories of beings offering her trades. "And pray tell, what do you receive in compensation?"
He gave a casual half shrug at the question. "Any country's currency will do. You can also pay in gold, diamond, precious stones or through other esoteric means."
"Souls?" She stared at him, her fingers flexing spastically behind her back.
"Those too," he readily agreed. "It's a bit difficult to price and most people tend to not accept the price of their soul."
"You presume to know the price of a soul?" Her eyes hardened and her voice dipped into a threatening edge. Whoever he was, she was not underestimating him but whether he offered her the same courtesy was unknown seeing as he remained unperturbed in front of her clearly hostile posture.
"Like I said, it's a bit hard to equate and due to the hundreds of factors involved in its constitution, it's a very unstable form of currency." He ended with a bit of distaste and sighed helplessly. "However as a Merchant whose policy is to trade with anyone willing, souls are one of the rare currencies people use and I have to accept."
"That's a lot of loopholes for a 'simple and honest' trade. I take it you don't concern yourself with how these souls are procured, do you?"
"No." He said easily. "Just the same way I don't ask my customers how they got their money, gold or any priced item they come to barter with."
He looked at her, a smaller smile on his face now, and spoke with an extremely professional tone, devoid of any inflections.
"I'm just a Merchant, dear customer. I'm not a moral or ethics adjudicator. My only concerns are in plying my trade fairly. Anything that happens after that, outside those doors, is of no interest to me."
Her fingers paused as she listened to what he said. She didn't trust his words, but she also had no grounds to call him a liar.
She had come here prepared because of the unforeseen changes to the weave. Whatever she was expecting — a big fight basically — meeting a man who posed himself as a Merchant was not one of them.
She could see clearly that he took being a Merchant as his personality and reasoning, which wasn't exactly helpful. Leaving the conversation where it was, she pivoted in another direction to see his reaction and willingness to comply with answers.
"I'll admit that my reason for coming here is not to trade but instead because of the residency you've taken up in this dimension."
"I have the permit for this store if that's what you're asking." He said, which she ignored.
"How did you get through the barrier?" Her voice came out extremely serious because she was. This could be the prelude to a crisis the likes of which she's literally never seen.
He looked confused for a moment. "If you mean how I got into this country and city, well public transportation like everyone else. If you're talking about the dimensional barriers warding off infernal beings," he looked down at himself, "Well I'm not some demonic creature as you can see. If you're asking about my other modes of transportation then I'm sorry I can't tell you. Trade secrets, I'm afraid."
The only thing she could verify in all he said was about him not being a demonic entity and even at that she remained highly doubtful because she couldn't sense anything from him. Not his presence, not his body heat or his intent. She could only read his body's expression and given that it was the only thing she could read from it made her trust it less.
On the other hand, he was easily forthcoming with information, being knowledgeable about the dimensional barriers and who knows what else.
"Why did you come here? Why this close to the Sanctum? Why this city?" She shed the veil of ignorance around them with those questions.
He smiled at her, looking pleased with her question.
"I'm a Merchant," he started and she wondered how that was related to answering her question, "knowing the best place to set up my shop is basic marketing."
His shoulders slacked and he seemed to give up on something. He plastered on an easygoing smile as he opened his mouth to speak.
"Ma'am, I'll apologize for any misunderstanding my arrival must have cost you. It's not much but I'll assure you that I'm only here to sell my wares, nothing else."
She snorted. "And you don't care about the outcome your action of trading these objects of yours might cause."
He nodded, still smiling. "No, I don't. I sell things. Whatever my customers do with their purchase, good or bad, is entirely up to them. I don't know what else I can say other than that."
"Leave." She said, "Take your shop and your goods and settle somewhere else on another planet."
"That I can't do. Not only will it reflect badly on me in the Union reports, but I can't exactly leave such a prime location and my potential customers without having barely made any sales."
And therein lay the problem. She could attempt to fight him off this dimension but the problem was she wasn't even on earth anymore. Yes, she could see the outside world from the windows, but she couldn't sense anything from the outside world.
Her connection to the Sanctum's wards had disappeared, nor could she feel the ley lines of magic that ran through the city under her feet. Her connection and influence to any and all dimensions of magic were cut off. They were practically nonexistent.
So not only was her magic hampered, but she could sense some truly strong magical artifacts lying around in different corners of the store.
Her mind zeroed in on the fact that she was dimensionally nonexistent and unfettered to the weaves of time, same as young Peter had been when he entered the store.
"You say all that and yet you've cut me off from my dimension and sealed my magic. How else am I to take that if not a threat?" It wasn't all her magic but it wasn't a small thing either.
Surprisingly, he gave her a little bow of apology and explained.
"Sorry if that might have startled you or painted me in a jaded light. By the rules of the store, any and all outside influences on customers are not permitted entry. If it's something that hampers the customer in any way then the store will compensate for however long the customer stays. You'll regain all your external connections the moment you step outside, so have no fear."
"So hypothetically, I'm not connected to any outside influence like say… time, space, divination, or maybe something like… cosmic soul contracts with infernal extra-dimensional beings?"
"It's not hypothetical. For the entire duration you stay here, you're effectively separated from every influence you were connected to. The connection is still there but there'll be no feedback between you and it… same for the, uh, 'cosmic soul contracts with infernal extra-dimensional beings'."
They stared at each other for some time, the man, Isaac, patiently waiting for her, while she debated with herself whether or not she actually wanted to do this.
"You called yourself a Merchant, correct?" He nodded. "Would you perhaps have anything capable of breaking conceptually-bound soul contacts?"
'Isaac' 'the Merchant' smiled happily at that. "I have just the thing."
She wasn't sold on anything he was selling, and even if she was temporarily disconnected from it, nothing in the weave was ever truly a coincidence.
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