Sarafina's POV
The Night Market felt different tonight.
Quieter.
Watching me.
Or maybe I was the one watching everything too closely. After the alley incident, with that whispering thing and Alistair appearing like a pissed-off shadow, I'd spent the last twenty-four hours pretending everything was normal.
Spoiler, it wasn't.
Every reflective surface caught the faint shimmer under my skin. My blood didn't just hum anymore—it sighed, like it was waking up after a long nap.
Great.
Because glowing veins were exactly what I needed to add to my mental health bingo card.
I maneuvered past a stall selling floating knives and slipped behind a curtain of hanging charms. And there he was—leaning against his desk like he owned the entire underground.
Vesper Quinn.
The man radiated mischief and menace in equal amounts. Tonight, he wore a smile that looked like he'd been waiting for me.
"Starling," he greeted, voice smooth enough to sell lies for a living. "Back so soon?"
"I'm not here to shop," I said.
"A tragedy," he sighed dramatically. "I rearranged the entire booth to impress you. Cost me a spine or two."
"I'm hoping that's metaphoric."
"It is. Mostly."
I ignored that.
My eyes were magnetically drawn to the object on his desk—an artifact shaped like an orb, but not quite solid. A faint silver glow pulsed inside it, flickering like my veins were answering it.
Vesper noticed, of course.
He watched me the way a cat watches something that might be lunch… or a new toy.
"It reacts to you," he said softly. "Has since the moment I found it."
My throat tightened. "What is it?"
"A conduit. A translator. A memory keeper."
He let the titles hang there like baited hooks.
"Artifacts like this belong to an ancient order, one tied to the same energy bleeding under your skin."
My stomach twisted. "Why show it to me?"
"Because," he murmured, lowering his voice until it ghosted over my skin, "you're the only one it's responded to in centuries."
I looked at him sharply. "What do you want in return?"
"Finally," he smirked. "You're asking the right question."
He stepped closer. Not threatening. Not seductive. Just… inevitable.
"I want a favor," he said. "Undetermined. Unspecified. I will call for it when needed."
"No." Too quick. Too certain.
Vesper tilted his head. "You don't even know what it will cost."
"That's exactly why I'm saying no."
The orb pulsed again—brighter, urgent, like it was reaching through the air for me.
Vesper watched the reaction with a spark of something that made me uneasy. Not greed. Not obsession.
Recognition.
"Your blood," he said quietly, "is older than myths. It answers to things the rest of us have forgotten."
My heart hammered.
"And this artifact?" I asked.
"It remembers you."
That chilled me more than any prophecy ever could.
He extended the orb with both hands. "Take it, Sarafina. No charge. No deal."
I blinked. "What?"
"For now."
A wicked grin curved at the corner of his mouth.
"Consider it a… loan."
A loan from someone who did not give gifts without strings.
I swallowed and reached out—hesitantly, touching the artifact.
It flared brilliantly.
For one terrifying second, I wasn't standing in the Night Market.
I was somewhere vast. Cold. Starlit.
Like standing beneath a sky I couldn't name.
Then the vision snapped away.
The orb dulled. My knees nearly buckled.
Vesper steadied me with a hand on my shoulder. "Careful, Starling. Things that know your name tend to demand it."
"I didn't see a name," I whispered.
He smirked. "You will."
Before I could question him, a shadow detached itself from the crowd behind me.
Someone was watching.
Someone familiar.
Vesper's eyes flicked past me. "Ah. Your other shadow is here."
I didn't turn. I didn't need to.
Alistair's presence cut through the room like gravity thickening.
Great. Just what I needed.
Vesper's smirk deepened, the predator in him delighted.
"Oh, this will be fun."
The orb throbbed weakly in my palm.
And all I could think was;
What did I just accept?