《9th Street Curios and Sundry》
Chapter 1
The steady rhythm of the broom against the wooden floor echoed through the shop as Theo swept for what felt like the hundredth time that evening. He paused, leaning on the broom handle, glancing around at the shelves and tables stacked high with curiosities: trinkets, old books, dusty boxes, and a collection of peculiar glass jars that seemed oddly misplaced in the otherwise humble surroundings of ¡°9th Street Curios and Sundry.¡±
Today is a perfect day for someone new to come to his little shop, Theo thought with a small, contented smile. The sign was faded now, its once-cheerful yellow paint chipped by years of weather and time. People rarely noticed the place, except on days when a strange aura seemed to hang in the air, like a forgotten dream.
He had never paid much attention to it, the oddness of it all. The quietness. The way the lights flickered when the shop was particularly still, the way the soft sound of his sweeping can fill the otherwise complete silence. It was a gentle sort of oddness, a quiet hum beneath the surface like a new story was about to begin.
Slow times are just part of running a shop, Theo. Surely, I¡¯ll have a new customer today.
The scent of old books and strange incense - though Theo couldn¡¯t remember lighting any incense - filled the air, and he adjusted his vest with a sigh. His hands were still damp with the faint remnants of the rag he had been using to wipe down the counter. He made his way to the back of the store and fiddled with the handle of an old brass kettle, running his fingers over the cool metal. It had been left there by a customer years ago. it was old and discolored and had a dent or two here and there - but Theo couldn¡¯t bring himself to toss it out. It looked right to Theo, but more importantly, it felt right. There was a certain quiet calm to it that he appreciated.
He filled the kettle and set it down on the burner just as he heard the gentle tinkling of the bell atop the shop¡¯s old front door.
A new customer?
Theo immediately wiped his hands off on his apron, preparing to greet them with his usual enthusiasm, but as he stepped around the corner to the front of the shop, he paused.
A woman, soaked to the bone, was standing in the doorway. Her coat, torn in several places, barely clung to her frame, and her dark hair hung in wet clumps around her face. The door jingled behind her, as if it had closed on its own, but Theo didn¡¯t notice. His mind was focused on the expression in her eyes.
She looked like someone who had just escaped from something. The kind of person you¡¯d expect to see in a movie - frantic, desperate, like she was on the run.
It is a new customer! And a pretty one at that. Time to turn on the charm and make some sales!
Theo smiled, eager to help. ¡°Oh! Welcome! Can I...¡±
Her eyes flicked toward him, wide and fearful as she interrupted, ¡°I... I need to hide.¡±
Theo blinked, confused. ¡°Hide?¡± he repeated. ¡°From what?¡±
Oh no! This doesn¡¯t sound good. I hope she doesn¡¯t bring any trouble.
But she was already inside, glancing nervously over her shoulder, like she expected someone to come through the door at any moment. She pulled her hood up higher, her movements quick and jerky. ¡°Please. Just for a moment.¡±
Theo stepped back instinctively, unsure of what was happening. ¡°Of course, of course. You¡¯re welcome to stay for as long as you need. It¡¯s very quiet in here, so you¡¯ll be safe. This is just a little - uh, curio shop. Nothing too strange, I promise.¡±
She didn''t respond immediately. Instead, she moved deeper into the shop, eyes darting toward the shelves. Theo watched her closely, his brow furrowing as he noticed her wince almost imperceptibly. Is she hurt?
She glanced up at him suddenly, her expression sharp, and he caught a flash of something - something old and knowing in her eyes. ¡°I¡¯m not here by accident. I¡¯m a customer, but I need a moment to catch my breath.¡±
It was a lie, of course, the truth was that she was a Jaeger, a huntress for the clandestine organization that referred to itself as the Celestial Hierarchy, tasked with eliminating the physical manifestations of evil known as demons. She was being chased by someone, or something, attacking her from the shadows. She isn¡¯t sure who is after her - it could be a past foe looking for revenge, but it is probably someone, or some group, from the Order of the Thirteenth Veil capitalizing on the fact that she is alone and injured.
Theo tried to keep his composure, forcing a grin. ¡°Well, you are welcome here, of course. People often come in when they¡¯re looking for something, sometimes they¡®re looking for an answer, sometimes a question but... I don¡¯t know. You might be the first customer tonight. You¡¯re the first one in hours, at least.¡±
The woman¡¯s expression softened, just for a moment. But the moment passed, and she scanned the shop again, her eyes flickering to the various objects on the shelves. Her gaze lingered on a few things - an old-fashioned compass, a strange-looking amulet, and a small cracked mirror with an overly elaborate frame - but she didn¡¯t say anything.
¡°Why is it so quiet?¡± she asked finally, almost to herself. ¡°It feels like... it feels like I¡¯m the only one here. Like no one else is allowed somehow. I like it¡± She permitted herself a deep breath, just a moment to relax, and when she did the pain erupted in her side. But she showed no reaction. She can¡¯t involve civilians in her problems. It was wrong to even come in here.
Theo shrugged, chuckling lightly. ¡°It¡¯s always like this. Quiet. It¡¯s just a small shop, but people find their way here. You¡¯d be surprised how many things I¡¯ve sold that people didn¡¯t even know they needed.¡±
The truth is, this is just a horrible location for an antique shop.
She didn¡¯t seem comforted by this, but when she glanced over her shoulder again, Theo noticed something shift in her posture - just a tiny movement, barely noticeable, like the air itself had thickened. But Theo thought he recognized the smell of... blood?
He shook his head. Maybe I¡¯m just imagining it.
Suddenly, the lights flickered, and something made a noise behind him. It was faint, like a whisper, but it came from the direction of the back room, where the old brass kettle still sat heating on the burner.
He looked at the woman, who had noticed it too. She tensed, her eyes narrowing, as if listening for something. Theo¡¯s heart beat a little faster.Stolen novel; please report.
¡°What¡¯s... what¡¯s in there?¡± she asked.
Theo blinked. ¡°Just a kettle... some old things. It¡¯s a bit of a mess back there, actually. But nothing dangerous, I don¡¯t think.¡± He offered her an awkward smile, trying to downplay the moment. Just then the kettle erupted into a whistle.
Ah, the kettle! Of course! I¡¯ll make something to drink - that¡¯s what a true professional would do in a situation like this!
He cleared his throat, trying to keep things light, though he couldn''t help but notice the sudden stillness that seemed to fill the air. "Well, first things first, how about something to drink? I¡¯ve got hot cider with cinnamon and clove if you need something refreshing, or I can offer you some spiced honey ginger tea if you prefer something a little less sweet.¡±
The woman hesitated, eyes flicking between Theo and the room as if weighing her options. She looked exhausted, as though every muscle in her body had been in constant motion for days, maybe longer. It took her a moment before she spoke.
¡°Tea sounds nice,¡± she said, her voice quieter now, the edge of panic receding just a little.
Theo smiled warmly and motioned to the back of the shop, where the smell of fresh cookies still lingered. ¡°Please, sit and rest. I¡¯ve got some almond cookies that just came out of the oven. They¡¯re nothing fancy, but they¡¯ll help.¡±
She gave a faint nod and followed him to the small corner table, her eyes still scanning the space. As she settled into the chair, Theo busied himself in the back, quickly preparing a pot of tea.
He returned a few moments later with two steaming mugs and a plate of cookies which he placed on the table in front of her. The light from the shop¡¯s flickering lamps illuminated the steam rising in the air like the start of some forgotten ritual. Raine hesitated for a moment, the tea mug sitting there between them like a small bridge in the quiet, uncomfortable space.
¡°I hope you like ginger,¡± Theo said, sitting down across from her. ¡°I find it helps clear the mind. It¡¯s been a long night, I¡¯m guessing.¡±
The woman didn¡¯t answer immediately. Instead, she slowly reached out, lifting the mug with both hands and inhaling the warm scent. Her eyes closed briefly as she took the first sip. A long, drawn-out exhale followed.
¡°Yeah,¡± she murmured, ¡°it¡¯s been a long night.¡±
The woman, who had been standing in the far corner, suddenly moved, her hand instinctively reaching for a small pendant around her neck. It looked ancient, etched with symbols Theo didn¡¯t recognize.
She likes charms, I can work with that!
Her eyes locked onto Theo¡¯s with a knowing look. ¡°This place really is just what it seems, isn¡¯t it¡± she said, her voice soft but firm. ¡°I¡¯m not sure what I expected, but it really is just a shop full of dusty trinkets.¡±
¡°Of course,¡± replied Theo, ¡°What else would it be?¡±
My store isn¡¯t dusty! Is my store dusty?
Theo stood up and his hand hovered over the display of small, polished stones in the corner of the shop. Each was neatly labeled with their supposed properties: courage, clarity, protection. He glanced back at Raine, who sat at the small table cradling her tea, her eyes distant and unfocused.
Maybe one of these? No, it doesn¡¯t seem quite right.
She¡¯d barely spoken since taking her seat, but her tension was palpable. Theo had seen that kind of look before - frayed nerves, a readiness to bolt.
He wanted to help. That¡¯s what he did, after all. People came into 9th Street Curios and Sundry looking for solutions they didn¡¯t know existed, and Theo prided himself on finding the perfect thing for every customer.
This was no different. He could help her. He just had to figure out how.
As he studied her from across the room, a theory began to form in his mind. She was running - she¡¯d said as much. And she was scared, clutching her tea like it was the only thing grounding her.
Is she in danger? An abusive husband, maybe?... an angry lover?
Maybe she was in a bad relationship. Someone controlling, maybe even violent. Theo¡¯s chest tightened at the thought.
¡°I don¡¯t mean to pry,¡± he began, his voice gentle, ¡°but... if you¡¯re in a situation that is making you feel unsafe, there are things that can help.¡±
She took another sip of tea, her eyes flitting briefly to the shelves before settling on Theo. She seemed hesitant, like she was weighing how much to share. ¡°It¡¯s been hard,¡± she said at last, her voice barely above a whisper. ¡°Being... out here. Trying to find a place where I can just relax.¡± What was she saying?! She almost opened up to this man, a total stranger. There¡¯s no way he can know about her. It would be too dangerous.
Theo nodded slowly, his heart going out to her. ¡°I can¡¯t imagine what you¡¯ve been through,¡± he said gently. ¡°But you don¡¯t have to explain anything if you¡¯re not ready. Sometimes just getting out of a bad situation is the bravest thing you can do.¡±
Her brow furrowed slightly, but she didn¡¯t correct him. Instead, she took another sip of tea, letting the warmth settle over her.
He hesitated, then leaned forward, lowering his voice. ¡°Look, I don¡¯t know much about what¡¯s going on, but... if you need something to help you feel more in control, more grounded, I might have just the thing.¡±
She looked at him curiously, setting her mug down.
Theo stood and moved to one of the cluttered shelves near the counter. After a moment of searching, he pulled down a small box carved from dark wood. Inside was a silver ring etched with delicate patterns that seemed to shimmer faintly in the dim light. He brought it back to the table, setting it down between them.
¡°This is an old... charm, I guess you could call it,¡± he explained. ¡°The story goes that it helps the wearer find inner clarity and confidence. Kind of like a way to focus your own strength when you need it most.¡± He gave her a lopsided smile. ¡°I know it¡¯s just a trinket, but I thought it might help.¡±
The woman picked up the ring, turning it over in her hands. The etchings seemed to catch the light in strange ways, and for a moment, her guarded expression softened.
¡°It¡¯s beautiful,¡± she murmured. ¡°How much?¡±
Theo waved his hand. ¡°Don¡¯t worry about that. Consider it a gift. Besides, it¡¯s not doing anyone any good sitting on a shelf gathering dust. Just be sure to come back and visit us again¡±
Why Theo? Do you have some aversion to paying rent? Well, maybe it will lead to a regular customer in the future.
She slipped the ring onto her finger, and for a moment, a strange expression crossed her face. She looked at Theo, her lips parting as if to say something, but then she stopped. Instead, she gave him the faintest of smiles. What kind of man gives a lady a ring when he first meets her?
¡°Thank you,¡± she said softly. ¡°My name is Raine, by the way.¡±
¡°Theo, and you¡¯re welcome.¡± He nodded, relieved. At least she seems to like it.
As Raine finished her tea, the tension in her shoulders seemed to ease, just a little. When she finally stood, the ring glinting faintly on her finger, she looked steadier somehow, like she¡¯d regained a small piece of herself. She had already spent too much time here. This seems like a good man and his life may now be in danger because of my presence, she thought. Ready or not, it¡¯s time to leave.
Theo watched as she walked to the door, her steps slow but deliberate. When she turned back to him, there was a flicker of something in her eyes - gratitude, maybe, or something more complicated.
¡°Take care,¡± she said, her voice quiet but steady.
¡°You too,¡± Theo replied, his smile warm but tinged with concern. ¡°And if you ever need a place to catch your breath again, please remember us here at 9th Street Curios and Sundry¡±
The door jingled softly as she left, and Theo stood there for a moment, staring at the empty space she¡¯d left behind. He sighed, running a hand through his hair.
¡°Well,¡± he muttered to himself, ¡°if nothing else, at least she has something to help her now.¡±
He glanced back at the shelf where the ring had been, feeling a quiet sense of satisfaction. He wasn¡¯t in the habit of giving his wares away for free. But sometimes that¡¯s what you had to do to win over a customer.
As the quiet hum of the shop settled around him once more, Theo went back to cleaning, ¡°I don¡¯t think my store is dusty¡± he said softly to himself.
Chapter 2
As Raine leaves Theo¡¯s shop, the night air is heavy, her thoughts still tangled in the cryptic kindness of the shopkeeper. She almost forgets that she''s still in danger. She almost doesn¡¯t notice the dark-cloaked figures stepping out of the shadows until their leader calls her name.
¡°Raine Solara,¡± the voice is cold, measured, unmistakably authoritative. ¡°You will surrender to the Order of the Thirteenth Veil. You must know that your continued defiance only strengthens our resolve.¡±
Raine turns to face them, her heart pounding. The leader, flanked by two others, carries the unmistakable insignia of the Veil¡ªa symbol of chains forming a circle, meant to represent dominion over chaos. He''s a mage, probably a fire mage by the look of him. The other two are just thugs, but one has a gun and the other has a knife.
The leader''s voice drops. ¡°You cannot escape us. Even here, in the depths of this town, the Hierarchy¡¯s protections will not save you. Come quietly, or you¡¯ll leave us no choice.¡±
Raine¡¯s hand tightens around the edges of her cloak, her thoughts racing. There¡¯re too many of them. She feels the smooth metal of the ring against her finger and catches a faint sensation¡ªa whisper, like a breeze brushing her ear. Her rising panic suddenly ebbs and a single word echoes in her mind, foreign and unfamiliar but instinctively understandable: ¡°Aelionis.¡±
Her lips move unconsciously before she fully processes it. ¡°Aelionis,¡± she says aloud, and the world shifts.
In an instant, Raine is no longer standing in the darkened street. Instead, she is transported into a vast expanse of swirling silver and pale blue winds, a realm suspended between sky and ether. Wisps of wind curl around her like sentient threads, lifting her hair and cloak as if weighing her worth.
A towering storm spirit appears before her, its form both ethereal and commanding. It does not speak with words but through sensation - pulses of emotion and insight that she feels in her bones. She senses its message:
¡°You are the eye of your own storm. The winds that batter you are the winds that drive you forward. The lightning that strikes tears down what cannot stand - but what remains stands strong. Embrace the tempest - for you are the howling of the Sacred Wind¡±
She feels the wind rushing through her, filling her lungs, strengthening her limbs, tearing down and rebuilding her very soul. She feels lighter, stronger - like she¡¯s dissolving into nothingness and reforming into something greater.
Raine gasps as the street snaps back into focus. The figures of the Veil agents stand frozen, their weapons half-drawn, their expressions confused. But Raine feels different. The air itself seems to hum around her, alive and responsive to her thoughts.
The leader snarls and signals the attack. But as they lunge, Raine raises her hand, and the wind answers her command. A cyclone whirls to life around her, blasting them back into the walls with a force that leaves no room for retaliation. Did I do that? How am I this strong?
One agent struggles to rise, but Raine sends a razor-thin gust of wind that slices his 9mm, and the person standing behind it, clean in two. The message is clear: she is no longer the prey they thought she was.
The dust settles and the fight is over almost before it began. Raine glances at the ring, its etched patterns glowing faintly. In the stillness, she remembers Theo¡¯s parting words - what she now remembers as his gentle, almost fatherly encouragement ¡°If you ever need to catch your breath again, please remember us here at 9th Street Curios and Sundry.¡±
For the first time, she understands what he meant. Theo didn¡¯t just give her a trinket; he gave her the means to surpass her limits, to think beyond the boundaries of the Celestial Hierarchy and to embrace her true power. She had always been a promising wind mage - but not like this. But how could he have known what she was? Wind mages don¡¯t even exist in the minds of most people. How could he have realized so easily - and manifest such a power so casually, with such nonchalance? Who was that man? How does he know about me? How much does he know about the Hierarchy?
Raine stands a moment longer, her heart steady now, questions reeling in her mind. Theo¡¯s shopkeeper facade has crumbled in her memory, replaced by the image of someone far more powerful and deliberate - a figure who is somehow shaping her destiny from the shadows.
But now isn¡¯t the time for that. The corpses of assassins lay scattered like discarded puppets on the street, their dark cloaks torn and bloodied. The battle had been brief, violent, and utterly destructive. But at least she was still alive. Now came the tricky part - cleaning up. It was late and the street was empty. Despite the violence, the battle hadn''t created a lot of noise. She''s safe, for now.
Raine knelt beside the nearest body, her hand brushing over the fabric of the assassin''s uniform. With a flick of her wrist, she pulled a thin shard of enchanted steel from the man''s belt and slipped it into her pocket. She knew the Order''s tricks and had been around long enough to recognize a magical trap when she saw one. You aren''t going to fool me that easily. She rose to her feet, her raven hair catching the faint light of the streetlamp above, and looked down at the carnage.Stolen from Royal Road, this story should be reported if encountered on Amazon.
Closing her eyes, Raine extended her hands, her fingers curling as if she were cradling an invisible sphere. The air around her stirred, growing denser, tighter, as if the atmosphere itself was bending to her will. A low hum filled the alley as a vortex began to form, swirling with increasing intensity. Dust, leaves, and loose debris were sucked into the growing whirlwind, obscuring the scene in a curtain of motion.
With a sharp gesture, Raine directed the vortex toward the first body. The lifeless figure rose slowly, weightless within the confines of the swirling wind. One by one, she repeated the process, guiding the assassins¡¯ remains into the vortex. The sight was eerie, even to her - limbs dangling like macabre marionettes caught in an unseen current. She honestly never thought it would work ¨C but, as unnerving and disgusting as it was - she was making it happen.
Once all the bodies were secured within the swirling column, Raine turned toward the mouth of the alley. She extended her hand forward, and the vortex obeyed, floating silently down the deserted street like a ghostly procession. A trio of lifeless bodies moving in a slow dance supported by nothing but air. Raine followed close behind, concentrating on her magic while her sharp eyes searched for any witnesses. Fortunately, the hour was late, and the city¡¯s streets were deserted, save for the distant sound of a passing car or the faint bark of a dog. Still, she kept her movements precise, her steps silent.
The safehouse wasn¡¯t far. It was a nondescript building tucked between an abandoned factory and a row of boarded-up storefronts. The kind of place people passed without a second glance. Raine reached the side entrance, a rusted metal door concealed by a sagging awning. She tapped three times on the door, paused, then tapped twice more. The sound echoed faintly in the quiet night.
The door creaked open, revealing a narrow corridor lit by a single flickering bulb. Raine guided the vortex inside, her expression tired yet determined as the swirling wind carried its grim cargo past her. The hallway smelled of damp concrete and old paint, a scent that Raine found oddly comforting after her ordeal.
She entered the main room, a spacious area cluttered with mismatched furniture and equipment. A man with dark, sharp features and a cigarette dangling from his lips looked up from a desk piled high with papers. His name was Linus, he lived in the safehouse year-round, making it appear like a normal residence. When things got messy, it was nice to have Linus on your side.
¡°Damn! Look at this ¨C someone¡¯s been busy,¡± Linus drawled, exhaling a plume of smoke as he leaned back in his chair. His eyes flicked to the vortex, now gently depositing the bodies onto a plastic-lined table in the center of the room. He seemed curious, but unconcerned, "Where''d you find these guys?"
"I was attacked," Raine replied, letting the vortex dissipate with a wave of her hand. The air stilled, and the room fell silent once more. "I need you right now, Linus. Help me get this handled."
Linus smirked, stubbing out his cigarette in a chipped ashtray. ¡°You know me. Always happy to help."
Raine nodded, her gaze lingering on the bodies for a moment before she turned to leave. She paused at the door, her hand resting on the frame.
¡°And Linus?¡± she said without looking back.
¡°Yeah?¡±
¡°Make sure they can¡¯t be traced to me. Whoever sent them is going to be looking for answers.¡±
Linus¡¯s grin widened, and he gave her a mock salute. ¡°Consider it done, Princess. But you¡¯ve got some explaining to do.¡±
Raine frowned, brushing a lock of raven-streaked hair from her face as she stepped back into the room. ¡°Explain what, exactly?¡± she replied, her voice steady but guarded.
¡°Oh, I don¡¯t know,¡± Linus began, pacing slowly around the room. ¡°Perhaps how you managed to take down an entire squad from the Order of the Thirteenth Veil - on your own.¡± His tone was measured, but his eyes betrayed his disbelief. ¡°Last I checked, you weren¡¯t exactly their match in raw power. Who else is involved with this?"
She bristled at his words, crossing her arms over her chest. ¡°Don¡¯t underestimate me, Linus. I didn¡¯t need raw power. I used my wits and my wind. That¡¯s all.¡±
¡°Your wits,¡± he scoffed, letting the word hang in the air. He stopped pacing and turned to face her fully. ¡°Raine, these Thirteenth Veil guys don''t play games and they don¡¯t fail. And yet here you are, standing without a scratch, and they¡¯re¡¡± he gestured to the pile of bodies at the center of the room, ¡°Well, they¡¯re very much dead. Call me curious.¡±
Raine sighed, her shoulders relaxing slightly. ¡°Look, I don¡¯t owe you a full play-by-play, but I¡¯ve been preparing for this moment. I knew they were hunting me and I was ready for them. I¡¯ve been training a lot lately, you¡¯ll see soon enough¡±
Linus raised an eyebrow, clearly unconvinced. ¡°Even so, this level of precision¡ You¡¯re holding something back. Who are you protecting?¡±
Raine hesitated. She wanted to tell him everything, to unload the weight of the encounter, but she knew the dangers of revealing too much. ¡°Let¡¯s just say the wind was at my back,¡± she said finally, her voice softer but firm. ¡°And leave it at that.¡±
Linus stared at her for a long moment, his expression unreadable. Then he sighed, rubbing the bridge of his nose. ¡°Fine. But you should know, Raine, if you¡¯ve gotten yourself involved in some type of black magic¡¡±
¡°It¡¯s nothing like that and I can handle it on my own,¡± she cut him off, her voice sharp. ¡°I don¡¯t need you worrying about me. I¡¯ve got this.¡±
He held up his hands in mock surrender. ¡°Alright, alright. Just don¡¯t expect me to clean up your messes when this all blows up in your face.¡± He glanced back at the bodies. ¡°Speaking of which, are you calling the cleaners, or am I?¡±
¡°I Just put in the request,¡± she replied, stepping toward the center of the room where a faint glimmer of magic was beginning to take shape¡ªa sigil etched in the air, glowing faintly with energy. ¡°They¡¯ll be here soon enough. And Linus?¡±
He turned back to her, arching an eyebrow.
¡°Thanks for the concern,¡± she said, her voice tinged with a rare hint of warmth.
Linus chuckled softly, shaking his head. ¡°Don¡¯t mention it.¡± And with that, he turned and disappeared back into the shadows, leaving Raine alone with the weight of her secrets and the bodies of her would-be assassins.
Chapter 3
He understood why they sent him to investigate ¨C but what did they really expect him to find? There wasn¡¯t much mystery here. The assassination squad sent to eliminate the Jaeger Raine Solara was wiped out. Sure, that¡¯s shocking, Raine wasn¡¯t supposed to be anything remarkable - just another low-ranking Jaeger barely worth remembering. How she had managed to come out the victor and obliterate an elite squad was certainly a question mark. But that it happened seemed certain enough. Damek may not have understood how, but as far as what happened ¨C that seemed obvious.
Damek steps carefully through the dim, dirty streets, his clean, Italian boots making soft echoes in the quiet evening air. His eyes flicker over every shadow, every detail, as he tracks the faint magical residue left behind by whatever spell she had apparently been using. It must have been somewhat powerful to leave a trail he could follow even hours after the incident. He had followed this thread through the labyrinthine alleyways of the city, past shuttered stores and decaying warehouses. It was subtle, nearly imperceptible¡ªjust a faint signature of something powerful, something foreign to this area.
The trace led him here, to an old street corner he had never been to before. The midmorning sun rising in the sky casts a warm glow on a small, unassuming shop, tucked between buildings that look abandoned. The sign above the door reads ¡°9th Street Curios and Sundry,¡± in faded gold letters, the edges chipped with age. There is nothing else open in the area and the trail ends here - almost at the doorway. I guess this is as good a place as any to start the investigation.
He steps forward, pushing open the door, and the bell above jingles softly as he enters.
Inside, the shop appears to be just as ordinary as it looks from the outside - shelves lined with dusty trinkets, old books stacked haphazardly, and the scent of aged wood and something vaguely sweet in the air. The shopkeeper stands behind the counter, appearing unremarkable. His clothes are simple, yet elegant, black pants and vest with a white shirt. Damek notices a black suit coat draped over the back of a chair behind the counter. The man is focused on some task behind the counter, seemingly unaware of Damek¡¯s presence.
Damek takes a few steps deeper into the shop, his senses on high alert. The magic he had traced is nowhere to be found ¨C nothing but the scent of incense and¡ apple cider? He moves carefully, his eyes scanning every corner, but there¡¯s nothing that overtly stands out that could have been a source of that energy.
At the counter, Theo looks up and offers a friendly smile. "Can I help you with something, Sir?" His tone is warm, and his eyes glint with a quiet curiosity.
Damek¡¯s instincts scream that something is wrong, but his senses beg to differ. The store is perfectly ordinary, nothing here radiates magic, nothing seems unusual - but maybe that¡¯s the problem. He keeps his voice even, though the words feel like an understatement. ¡°Just browsing,¡± he replies, his eyes darting over the shelves.
Theo nods, and with a fluid motion, he gestures vaguely toward a table where an assortment of odd objects is laid out. "Feel free to look around. There¡¯s some hot cider available for patrons, if you¡¯d like. It¡¯s cold out there today. If you have any questions, please feel free to ask"
Damek doesn¡¯t answer right away. He keeps walking around the store, feigning casual interest, but his eyes are keen, searching. He feels¡ something, but it¡¯s elusive, like trying to catch the wind. He stops near a display case on the indicated table filled with rings, his eyes narrowing as he traces the lines of the delicate velvet slots. One, in particular, catches his attention - empty, as if something once belonged there but was taken.
¡°Perhaps a cup of cider would be nice.¡± He says, looking back to the proprietor. Theo smiles broadly and places two porcelain teacups on a tray, fills them with hot cider, adds a plate of cinnamon sugar scones and motions towards a small table in the corner for Damek to sit with him.
Just then, the door jingles again, and a child rushes into the store, the quiet solemnity of the shop suddenly bursting with palpable energy. "Whoa!" the boy exclaims as he runs toward a table full of ancient metal scabbards.
As Theo sets down the tray with the cider, he grabs a small, ornate mirror with a little crack in the corner from behind the counter and props it up, angled toward the child so he can keep an eye on him. ¡°Kids and antiques,¡± Theo says with a chuckle. ¡°Love them both, but you can never be too careful.¡±
Just then the sound of a small boy¡¯s startled scream followed by the high-pitched crashing sound of a small ceramic figure falling off the edge of its display shelf fills the room.
Theo¡¯s smile doesn¡¯t falter, though there¡¯s a slight shift in his posture. He walks over with measured steps, bending down to pick up the pieces. ¡°Careful, Jem,¡± he says kindly, though there¡¯s a trace of something sharper in his voice. ¡°Some things aren¡¯t toys, kiddo.¡±
He turns to the child, gently chiding him. ¡°You¡¯ve got to be a little more careful with these things. Don¡¯t want to break history, now, do we?¡±If you encounter this story on Amazon, note that it''s taken without permission from the author. Report it.
The child sheepishly nods and picks up another item, while Theo cleans up the mess and sets things right, continuing his quiet reprimand.
As Theo steps away from the child and goes behind the counter to retrieve a cloth, he smiles at Damek, his eyes twinkling with some private amusement. "Be good, now," he says with a wink. "I¡¯ll be right back."
With Theo distracted, Damek takes a slow breath. He reaches into his coat pocket, pulling out a small vial. It contains a clear liquid¡ªan odorless drug enchanted for mind manipulation. His plan had been to lace Theo¡¯s cider with it, subtly influencing the shopkeeper to get the information he needed about the incident from the night before.
But as he uncorks the vial, something catches his eye ¨C something reflected in the polished surface of the nearby mirror. The shadows in the mirror are moving, shifting, reaching unnaturally out from the mirror. For a moment, Damek thinks his eyes are playing tricks on him. But the movement is unmistakable.
He freezes. His heart races, and his grip tightens around the vial. The shadows in the mirror aren¡¯t just reflections - they¡¯re alive somehow.
Damek¡¯s breath catches in his throat as the shadows coalesce, taking on vague, human-like forms. Their limbs stretch unnaturally long, and their movements are jerky, like puppets on invisible strings. One shadow reaches toward the surface of the mirror, and to Damek¡¯s horror, its hand begins to push through - dark tendrils creeping out into the room.
The temperature drops, a chill seeping into his bones. The vial in his hand begins to tremble, though whether from his unsteady grip or some unseen force, he isn¡¯t sure. The shadows seem drawn to it, their inky appendages straining toward the glass ¨C towards its wielder. He quickly stashes the vial back into his pocket and the shadows withdraw back into the mirror.
Damek continues to watch the mirror in silent panic, then his eyes flit to Theo, his suspicion growing. ¡°Be good now.¡± The words, so casual, could be taken as a simple parting phrase. But in Damek¡¯s world, nothing is ever casual. He feels the weight of the underlying threat, a warning wrapped in the softness of this shopkeeper''s friendly demeanor.
Clearly, this mirror is no ordinary piece of glass. He now recognizes it as an artifact. A powerful, ancient artifact with the capacity to trap souls and possibly even worse. Damek¡¯s pulse spikes. He recognizes the danger; the immense power it holds. This is no trinket - it¡¯s a weapon, and if Theo had placed it there intentionally, it¡¯s a clear message: Don¡¯t cross me.
In that instant, Damek¡¯s mind races, realizing he¡¯s just narrowly avoided death, or worse. The mirror is far too dangerous to underestimate, and the shop itself? It¡¯s not a haven of harmless oddities; it¡¯s a fortress brimming with unfathomable power, carefully concealed behind the proprietor''s unassuming smile.
Damek quickly glances around, his focus never leaving the mirror while simultaneously wondering what else might be watching him. He straightens, his pulse still pounding in his ears. For the first time in his life, he feels truly out of his depth. The pieces are falling into place, but they don¡¯t make sense. The seemingly kind proprietor, the shop, the faint trail of magic - it¡¯s all connected, it must be - but the risk is too great.
One thing is perfectly clear in the dark mage¡¯s mind: This is not a man to be trifled with. Damek¡¯s investigation has just turned up someone who is much more than his appearance would dictate.
As Theo returns to the table, the atmosphere changes instantly, the aura of malevolence and malice is replaced by the bright warm smile which is evidently permanently glued to the young man¡¯s face. The smoky apparitions reaching from the mirror have faded, replaced by the bright reflection of the shop. The boy, noticeably less energetic after being gently scolded and given a cup of hot cider, has settled into the corner, seemingly content with the cider and the warm atmosphere. Theo is still his calm, genial self, but Damek senses an edge to him now, a dark and ominous power hiding just behind the warm facade. His gaze flickers briefly toward the child to make sure he is still behaving, then turns back to Damek, his smile ever present as he takes a moment to look him over and then sit down to talk.
Theo hands Damek the cider, his smile unchanging. ¡°You have the look of someone who¡¯s seen a lot of the world,¡± he says casually. ¡°Found anything interesting out there lately?¡±
Damek takes the cider but doesn¡¯t drink, his gaze lingering on the mirror. ¡°I¡¯ve come across a few curiosities,¡± he replies evenly, his voice low. ¡°Sometimes, you find things that aren¡¯t what they seem.¡±
Theo chuckles. ¡°Oh, I¡¯d say that¡¯s true everywhere. People, objects, places - everything¡¯s got a story. Sometimes, it¡¯s just a matter of knowing how to look, and what to look at.¡±
Their words are light, but the tension Damek feels between them hums beneath the surface. The child¡¯s laughter breaks the moment as he marvels at a new toy he has found, this time it¡¯s a glass paperweight shaped like a dragon.
Damek¡¯s eyes flick back to the mirror, and for a fleeting second, spotting again the movement within its surface - a shadow, a flicker of something alive. His grip on the cider tightens.
¡°I should be going,¡± Damek says abruptly, setting the unconsumed drink on the counter.
Theo doesn¡¯t press. ¡°Of course. But if you ever find yourself needing something unique, or if you need to be rid of something you no longer need, you know where to find us.¡±
As Damek steps toward the door, Theo adds, almost as an afterthought, ¡°Take care out there. The world can be¡ unpredictable.¡±
Damek pauses on the sidewalk, his heart racing. The shop radiates no magic whatsoever, no power at all - but the man inside is something else. The mirror¡¯s presence, Theo¡¯s unshakable calm, and the faint trace of Raine¡¯s magic that led here in the first place have left Damek deeply unsettled.
For the first time in a long while, Damek feels the cold touch of doubt. He¡¯s no closer to understanding what happened to the agents sent after Raine, but he knows one thing: this shopkeeper is no ordinary man, and this investigation has become far more dangerous than he originally anticipated.
Chapter 4
A faint, oppressive unease blankets the city, noticeable only to the supernaturally sensitive: a whisper of dread and discomfort. To the amplified awareness of the Hierarchy¡¯s agents, however, the source is unmistakable - a colossal, shapeless demon of fire and shadow lurking above the skyscrapers. Though invisible to the ordinary eye, its effects are evident: people collapsing from panic attacks, glass windows cracking under unseen pressure, and a general sense of chaos brewing.
Raine lands at the scene, her arrival marked by a strong gust of wind that sweeps the debris from her immediate path. She wears the Hierarchy¡¯s battle garb - sleek, white, lightly armored, and adorned with divine symbols. Three other agents follow close behind, wielding various charms and talismans, scanning for threats.
Raine narrows her eyes, scanning the skyline. To her enhanced senses, the demon¡¯s form is clear - a writhing mass of molten shadows, flickering with bursts of crimson flame, crawling along the sides of buildings and wrapping itself around them like a parasite. Its presence sucks the warmth from the air despite its fiery core.
The four warriors look at the massive demon and then at each other, Raine steps forward, her voice cutting through their conversation.
¡°It¡¯s feeding on their fear,¡± she says, pointing toward the pedestrians stumbling and clutching their chests below. ¡°We need to isolate it before this entire block turns into a panic-induced stampede.¡±
With that, Raine raises her hand, summoning a fierce gale. Wind whips around her in a vortex, rising to the rooftops and creating an invisible barrier that muffles sound and shields the area from further contamination. Her fellow agents glance at each other, clearly surprised by her ability to manipulate divine energy with such precision.
Raine leaps to the top of a nearby building with a burst of wind beneath her feet. From this vantage point, she channels her energy into a bow-like construct, pulling back a glowing, wind-forged arrow. The shot flies straight into the demon''s core, exploding in a sharp burst of light and wind. The creature roars - a soundless vibration that rattles glass and shakes the ground.
The demon twists and lunges toward her, fiery tendrils extending in whip-like appendages. Raine deftly dodges, her movements fluid and deliberate, manipulating the wind to carry her above the fray. She counters with quick, calculated strikes, each gust slicing through the demon¡¯s form, momentarily dispersing it before it reconstitutes itself.
At this point, the rest of the team moves in, their arcane implements glowing with ethereal energy as they unleash a torrent of spells, carving into the demon¡¯s writhing mass. They¡¯re experienced soldiers, moving with precision and teamwork, but their attacks feel measured compared to Raine¡¯s raw, unrestrained power. She isn¡¯t just containing the creature - she¡¯s overpowering it.
One of the agents, a stoic figure named Seriel, calls out sharply as Raine¡¯s winds nearly knock over a crumbling water tower.
¡°Control your power, Solara! You¡¯re creating more hazards!¡±
Raine shoots him a glare but adjusts her strikes to avoid collateral damage. The momentary distraction, however, gives the demon an opening. A tendril lashes out, and Raine barely escapes with a quick burst of wind, landing on a rooftop several blocks away. The demon shifts its focus to her entirely, leaving the rest of the team struggling to keep up.
Raine steadies herself on the rooftop, her chest rising and falling with controlled breaths. The demon looms above her, its fiery tendrils flaring in agitation as it senses her growing power. The air around her crackles with energy, the wind twisting and bending to her will.
¡°Come on, then,¡± she mutters, drawing another arrow of wind and energy. ¡°Let¡¯s see what you¡¯ve got.¡±
The demon surges forward, its form undulating and expanding as if consuming the very shadows of the buildings it touches. A tendril lashes out, molten fire sparking along its edge. Raine meets it head-on, releasing her arrow and leaping into the air with a burst of wind. The arrow strikes true, ripping through the tendril and dispersing part of the demon¡¯s mass in a flash of light.
But the creature doesn¡¯t slow. Instead, it adapts, pulling its fragmented form together and shifting its strategy. It launches a barrage of tendrils, forcing Raine to weave and dodge mid-air. Her movements are fluid but intense, the wind beneath her feet carrying her in sharp, precise arcs. Each strike she lands tears away a piece of the demon, but its defiance pushes back against her relentless assault. Its massive size and power are overwhelming. She needs to find another way to defeat the monster.
As Raine fights, a sudden, guttural voice cuts through her mind - not spoken aloud but resonating deeply within her. It¡¯s the demon, speaking directly to her through some unseen connection.
¡°You are the Sacred Wind, the Power of the Storm, Pawn of the Oppressive Light. Why do you serve those who fear what they cannot control?¡±
The words catch her off guard. Her focus wavers, and a tendril grazes her side, sending her crashing onto a nearby rooftop. She rolls to her feet, clutching her ribs but refusing to falter.
Are these the demon¡¯s words? Raine had been a Jaeger for five years and had studied hard under the tutelage of the Celestial hierarchy for all that time. She had never before heard of, much less encountered, a demon who could¡ communicate. Is this even possible?This content has been unlawfully taken from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere.
¡°Shut up and fight,¡± she snaps, more as an admonition to herself than as a response, drawing another arrow.
But the voice doesn¡¯t relent.
¡°You destroy us because they command it. You destroy you because they command it. They know nothing because they feel nothing¡ Do you?¡±
The words hit a nerve. For the briefest moment, Raine hesitates, her mind flashing back to the whispers of doubt she¡¯s felt since her ascension - how the Hierarchy¡¯s agents watch her with unease, how their leaders caution her about overstepping her bounds.
And now, facing this demon, its words feel¡ calculated. Manipulative, perhaps, but not entirely wrong.
Her hesitation doesn¡¯t go unnoticed. The rest of the team, still locked in battle with the demon¡¯s other tendrils, notices her pause. Seriel¡¯s voice rings out.
¡°Raine! Focus! We still have a job to do!¡± he yells, slashing through a flailing limb.
But Raine doesn¡¯t respond immediately. Instead, she takes a steadying breath, her eyes narrowing as she looks at the demon - not with anger, but with curiosity. She fires a volley of arrows, not to destroy, but to test, aiming for parts of its body where the flames burn brightest. Each hit yields a small revelation: its form flickers, revealing glimpses of something beneath the fire and shadow. Not a monster, but an intricate web of human faces, twisted in fear and anguish, calling out for release.
Raine lands on a nearby rooftop, lowering her bow. ¡°You¡¯re feeding off of them,¡± she says, her voice quieter now, tinged with understanding. ¡°Off their fear. That¡¯s what gives you strength.¡±
¡°Fear is the only offering your kind gives freely.¡±
Raine closes her eyes, her mind racing. She remembers her training, the countless lectures about the nature of demons - mindless beings born to destroy. Yet this one doesn¡¯t feel mindless. There is a direction in its chaos.
She takes a deep breath, her hands glowing with wind energy. Instead of aiming another arrow, she lifts her hands skyward, summoning a storm. A vortex of wind and light begins to form, not to strike, but to pull. The demon writhes, its tendrils flailing, but Raine¡¯s voice cuts through its protest.
¡°If you feed on fear, then I¡¯ll take it away. Let''s see what remains!"
The vortex shifts, becoming a siphon that begins to drain the fear-fueled energy from the demon. At first, it resists, its form flickering violently. But as the oppressive aura fades, its size begins to shrink, the fire dimming, the shadows receding. What¡¯s left is not a hulking beast, but a smaller, trembling figure - a pale, translucent wraith-like form, human in shape but ethereal.
The other agents regroup, their weapons drawn, but they hesitate at the sight of the diminished demon. Seriel steps forward, his voice sharp. ¡°What are you doing, Raine? Destroy it while it¡¯s weak!¡±
Raine stands between the wraith and her team, her hand raised to halt them. ¡°No,¡± she says firmly. ¡°It¡¯s not what we thought it was.¡±
¡°What are you saying?¡± Seriel demands.
Raine looks over her shoulder at the wraith, now motionless and unthreatening. ¡°I don¡¯t know yet. But it needs to go back to the Hierarchy. This is something new. Our war may be changing.¡±
Raine turned back towards the demon. She drew the vortex into a compact sphere of wind that encased the creature. With the demon now subdued, she turned to the others. ¡°Let¡¯s move.¡±
The Jaegers fell into formation as Raine led the way back to the Celestial Hierarchy¡¯s citadel. The creature hovered within its prison of swirling air, silent but seething.
---
The grand hall of the Celestial Hierarchy loomed ahead, its towering marble columns and golden inlays casting an imposing air. Raine always found the place suffocating, its sanctity marred by the rigid bureaucracy and unyielding laws that governed their order. She had barely crossed the threshold when a senior adjudicator intercepted her.
¡°You brought it back alive?¡± the man sneered, his tone brimming with disdain. ¡°Why not destroy it outright?¡±
Raine straightened, keeping her voice measured. ¡°Because we need answers. It¡¯s not just another feral demon - it spoke during the fight. Not words, but it was able to communicate directly to my mind.¡¯¡±
The adjudicator¡¯s eyes narrowed, his lips pressing into a thin line. ¡°Hmm. Follow me.¡±
She and her team were led to the containment chamber, a sterile room lined with sigils and protective wards. The adjudicator gestured sharply, and Raine released the vortex. The wraith-like demon collapsed onto the warded floor, its shadowy form flickering.
Two Jaegers flanked the creature, their expressions cold and unforgiving. One produced a glowing chain of runed silver and snapped it around the demon¡¯s ethereal body. The demon hissed, writhing as the chains constricted it further. Raine winced at the harsh treatment but said nothing.
¡°Identify yourself,¡± one of the Jaeger inquisitors commanded, his voice sharp as steel.
The demon snarled but said nothing.
The adjudicator stepped forward, raising a hand. The runes on the chain flared, eliciting a scream from the creature.
¡°Enough!¡± Raine said sharply, her voice echoing in the chamber. The inquisitors turned to her, their expressions unreadable. ¡°You want answers? Maybe try something other than brute force. It was ready to talk in the field.¡±
The adjudicator¡¯s gaze hardened. ¡°Your concern for a demon is misplaced, mage. It¡¯s our methods that keep the Hierarchy, and by extension, the rest of the world, safe.¡±
The demon¡¯s form wavered, cutting in and out like static on television set. In her mind she heard it speak to her again.
You have turned the key to the cell. The shackles have been loosened by your hand. that which must not awake stirs within its cell. Doom comes for us all.
The creature shuddered, its form dimming further. ¡°He''s speaking again, can you all hear it?
Raine looks around to see the shocked looks and hurried nods of consent as she realizes that everyone in the room is receiving the message.
Raine frowned. ¡°What does it mean?¡±
The adjudicator snapped his fingers, and the chains flared again, silencing the creature with a howl. Raine stood abruptly, anger flashing in her eyes.
¡°You¡¯re silencing it when we¡¯re finally getting somewhere?¡± she asked.
The adjudicator waved her off. ¡°We¡¯ve heard enough. This thing is a deceiver trying to manipulate us, we will deal with it. You¡¯ve done your duty, Raine. Leave the rest to us.¡±
As they hauled the weakened wraith away, Raine¡¯s hands clenched into fists. Something about this whole situation felt wrong. The rigidity of the Hierarchy - their refusal to even consider what the demon might reveal - gnawed at her.
But she is a soldier and this soldier had been given orders. She''ll drop the issue - for now
Chapter 5
Jem awoke with a start, the remnants of the dream still clinging to his mind like the memory of an actual event. Somehow this dream wasn¡¯t like other dreams. It was the kind of dream that felt too real and stayed too vividly in his mind. It felt like the type of dream that had to mean something. He sat up in bed and rubbed his eyes as the early morning light filtered through the dusty curtains. The world outside was still and quiet, as if waiting for something to happen.
In the dream, he had been standing at the edge of a vast and unknown landscape, the ground beneath his feet was soft and giving, like the earth was alive. The air smelled of salt and something more ¨C something distant¡ something ancient. And then there was the woman - a figure draped in flowing blue robes, her face obscured by a hood that flickered with glimpses of the stars. The woman stood with Jem at the edge of a precipice ¨C beyond which lay an endless sea of clouds.
The woman had spoken to him - not in words, but in a voice that resonated deep inside him, as if the sound came from his very bones, or perhaps from within the depths of the earth. The message was simple but powerful:
You stand on the edge of the world. You have reached the end where there is no end. There is no path left in front of you. If you wish to move forward, you must find a new path. The path you seek is not in what you know, but in those around you. Friends can be found at the beginning and the end of the journey that is to come. Seek out those who can guide you through the dark places to reach what you seek. To begin your journey you must petition the Collector of Tales. You must seek the realm where your adventure begins.
The dream had felt like a door opening, and though he didn¡¯t understand everything the guide had said, he knew the message was important. Growth. Friendship. Adventure. He had always been someone who lived on the edge of his own world, never quite fitting in. Never belonging anywhere. Not at home, and not at school. It wasn¡¯t as though he was bullied or abused, but still, he just never seemed to feel right in his own skin.
Jem swung his legs over the side of the bed and hopped down onto the floor, his feet nimbly avoiding the scattered action figures and plastic army men littered across the room as he made his way to the door. His gaze lingering on a crumpled Spider Man comic near his bed. He hadn¡¯t finished it yet, but that could wait.
He wandered into the kitchen and grabbed a bowl of cereal from the cupboard. The house was quiet - his mother had left for work over an hour ago. There was no school today. Normally, he would have spent the morning immersed in video games, but his console was missing. His mother must have hidden it somewhere. That could only mean one thing: she was mad about something, and he¡¯d probably hear all about it when she got home. It didn¡¯t matter much at the moment though. The dream was still running through his mind and he was certain there was something important he needed to do today. He just wasn¡¯t sure what it was. He finished his cereal quickly and headed towards the door.
He reached for his coat, the old brown one with the frayed cuffs, and patted the pockets absently. His fingers brushed against something crumpled and soft. When he pulled it out, his breath caught.
A $50 bill.
Jem stared at it for a long moment, his heart racing as if it were some kind of omen. There was no way he had put it there. He hadn¡¯t owned a $50 bill ever in his life. It was just¡ there.
The bill was worn, the edges creased and frayed, as if it had passed through many hands over the years. Jem turned it over, half-expecting some hidden message or symbol to appear. But there was nothing. Just the same plain green paper.
Still, it felt like another sign.
Without thinking, Jem stood up and walked to the small mirror on the wall. The face that looked back at him was different somehow - not physically, but in a way his eyes seemed sharper, as if the fog of his old life had lifted, and he could see clearly for the first time.
For a moment, he just stood there, staring at his reflection. He could feel something stirring within him, a hunger for something more than the life he had been leading.
His head was spinning with ideas. Maybe it was time to take a step forward, to embrace the growth of which the lady from his dream had spoken.
And with that thought, the knot in his stomach loosened. He felt lighter, as if the weight he had been carrying for so long had finally been lifted, replaced by the thrill of something new. Something unknown.
Jem pocketed the $50, feeling its presence like a promise. Then he grabbed his coat, headed out into the world that awaited him.
The day was still young, but Jem knew that this was the beginning of something. He felt a door close inside of him and at the same time a new door was opening. He didn''t know what lay beyond, but whatever it was, he was ready for it.
---
The bell above the door jingles softly as Jem pushes the shop''s door open, his sneakers squeaking against the old wooden floor. It must be a busy day, there¡¯s actually another customer in the store. An older woman wearing a hooded sweater had walked in just in front of him and approached the counter where Theo stood.
Addressing the woman at the counter, Theo offered her a warm smile. ¡°Good afternoon. Welcome to 9th Street Curios and Sundry. How can I help you today?¡±
The woman hesitated, her eyes darting between the shelves of antique books and the odd assortment of curios. ¡°Hi. Um, this might be a bit strange, but¡ do you buy things here?¡±
¡°Occasionally,¡± Theo replied, stepping out from behind the counter. ¡°We specialize in antiques, heirlooms, items with a bit of history to them. But let¡¯s see what you¡¯ve brought.¡±
She set the box on the counter, carefully opening it to reveal a well-loved handheld gaming console, its buttons slightly worn and its casing scuffed. ¡°It¡¯s not exactly an antique,¡± she admitted with a small, sheepish laugh. ¡°It belonged to my son. He¡¯s older now, and it¡¯s just been sitting in a drawer. I thought maybe someone else might appreciate it.¡±
Theo regarded the console thoughtfully for a long while, his long fingers lifting it from the box. ¡°A first-generation model,¡± he said, his tone light but appreciative. ¡°It¡¯s got a certain charm. I can see it¡¯s been well-used - probably saw a lot of adventures.¡±
The woman chuckled softly. ¡°Oh, plenty. It was practically glued to his hands for years.¡± Her expression softened, ¡°He¡¯s moved on now, making his way in the world. Doesn¡¯t even look at things like this anymore.¡±
Theo turned the console over in his hands, inspecting it with just a hint of nostalgia in his eyes. ¡°We don¡¯t typically deal in electronics,¡± he said, placing it on the counter, ¡°but this does have a bit of soul to it. The wear tells a story.¡±
He traced a faint scuff along the edge with his thumb, a small smile tugging at the corner of his lips. ¡°See this here? That¡¯s not the kind of wear you get from neglect, this is from use - a lot of use. It¡¯s the kind of wear that says someone played this for years, maybe beating their first boss or replaying their favorite game. But this wasn''t just a toy for your son. It was clearly a tool that he used to achieve great things. In a game, perhaps - but great things nonetheless.¡±If you discover this tale on Amazon, be aware that it has been unlawfully taken from Royal Road. Please report it.
Theo tilted the console slightly, catching the light. ¡°Look at the buttons, they¡¯re not sticking or overly worn. Whoever owned this took care of it, even as they loved it to death. It¡¯s been well-used but not abused, like an old book full of favorite stories.¡±
He set it down gently, almost reverently. ¡°It¡¯s funny how objects like this pick up pieces of the people who own them. You can tell this wasn¡¯t just a gadget to someone - it was a pivotal part of their world.¡±
He opened a drawer beneath the counter, pulling out a small pouch of coins. ¡°Antique or not, I think I can make an exception for this. After all, treasures come in many forms.¡±
Her eyebrows lifted in surprise. ¡°Are you sure? I mean, I wasn¡¯t expecting much. I just thought¡¡±
Theo held up a hand, smiling. ¡°I¡¯ll ensure it finds a home where someone appreciates it.¡± He counted out coins in a currency Jem had never seen before and slid the pouch across the counter. ¡°A piece like this, filled with memories, deserves better than to sit forgotten in a drawer.¡±
The woman accepted the coins, her smile touched with gratitude. ¡°Thank you. I didn¡¯t think anyone would want it.¡±
¡°Sometimes, it¡¯s not just the object,¡± Theo replied, placing the console next to an intricately carved wooden box. ¡°It¡¯s the story it carries with it. Even the simplest items can spark a little magic in the right hands.¡±
She adjusted her bag and nodded. ¡°Thank you and I wish you a good day.¡±
¡°You¡¯re welcome,¡± he said warmly. ¡°And if you ever find yourself with more treasures - or stories - you know where to find me.¡±
She smiled once more before leaving, the bell jingling softly in her wake.
Theo watched her go, then glanced at the console. He let out a faint chuckle and placed it on a nearby shelf.
¡°Good Morning, Jem,¡± Theo says, turning to the boy who was still standing at the counter watching attentively - and not where he would usually be in the back of the shop where the sword collection was kept. ¡°What brings you in today? You seem like you have something you¡¯d like to ask.¡±
Jem grins, his wild hair just barely held back by a messy bandana. He hops up onto one of the stools by the counter, crossing his arms. ¡°Just wanted to see if you¡¯ve gotten anything new in. You know, something... for an adventure.¡±
You want to know if I''ve acquired any new swords, don¡¯t you?
Theo raises an eyebrow, leaning back in his chair. ¡°What do you mean by - adventure?¡±
Jem shrugs with a knowing smirk. ¡°I dunno. Just something cool. I know you¡¯ve got all kinds of stuff hiding back there.¡± Indicating the back room where only Theo was allowed.
Theo chuckles, shaking his head. ¡°I¡¯d tell you, but then I¡¯d have to charge you double. The items in storage are for sale - but they aren''t available for window shopping and you¡¯re not exactly a paying customer, are you?¡±
Not that I mind, but you¡¯re in here all the time and you¡¯ve never actually bought anything!
Jem leans in closer, his eyes twinkling. ¡°Maybe I¡¯ll start. You never know. People change.¡± He pauses, and his tone drops slightly. ¡°Besides, you never know when I might find something really special.¡±
Theo narrows his eyes, suddenly intrigued. He¡¯s seen Jem before, of course, he comes into the shop from time to time ¨C mainly to look at the swords. He¡¯s always a little too clever and a little too enthusiastic for his own good. He¡¯s never actually purchased anything, but Theo¡¯s always been fond of him. The kid¡¯s a bit of a scamp - but this time, there¡¯s something a little different about him. He¡¯s got an edge today, his usual playfulness masked by a quiet seriousness.
"I can tell something''s different today, Jem. So tell me, what are you really after?"
There''s adventure in every story and every item here has a story, a purpose for someone. What story is calling to you?
Jem glances around the shop, his gaze wandering through the open door to the back room - lingering on an old wooden box on the shelf near the back, a curious object that hasn¡¯t caught anyone¡¯s eye in years. His fingers tap the counter in a rhythmic, almost distracted way.
¡°Just¡ I dunno... looking for something unique, I guess. Something with history. Something that tells a story - an old story.¡±
This isn¡¯t helping.
Theo watches him closely. ¡°Aren¡¯t you a bit young to be so interested in old stories?¡±
¡°Not really,¡± Jem replies, leaning back on the stool. ¡°I¡¯ve got my reasons. You know¡ life doesn¡¯t always make sense unless you look at it from someone else''s view.¡± His voice grows quieter, almost like he¡¯s musing to himself.
Theo considers him for a moment, his gaze softening. Despite the boy¡¯s apparent youth and mischief, there¡¯s a spark of something deeper in his eyes - something Theo can¡¯t quite place.
That''s it! I know just the thing!
¡°Alright then, I like a good story, myself; and I might have a few things back there I could show you,¡± Theo says, breaking the silence. He stands and heads toward the back of the shop, leaving Jem to tap his fingers on the counter, the sound of the old clock ticking in the background.
Jem views his reflection in an old, chipped mirror behind the counter. Once again, his reflection seems different today - less like himself, and more... like himself. What¡¯s that even mean? Whatever, forget it.
Theo returns with a small wooden box - the same box he had noticed earlier. He opens the box and pulls from it an old brass compass, its surface scratched and worn from years of use, its needle forever pointing north. He sets it on the counter in front of Jem.
¡°This one¡¯s definitely got a story. It¡¯s been through more than one pair of hands in its time. But it¡¯s still ticking... or still pointing anyway.¡±
Jem eyes the compass for a long moment, his fingers brushing over its surface. He looks up at Theo with a more serious expression than usual.
¡°This compass¡±, Theo explains, his voice taking on a deep, theatrical tone, ¡°once belonged to a sailor named Ewan Calder, a navigator on a 19th-century merchant vessel. Ewan¡¯s ship, The Marigold, was a storied vessel that had braved storms, pirate ships, and uncharted waters in its time. The compass had been a gift from his father, who told him it would always guide him home no matter where he was in the world.¡±
¡°One fateful voyage, The Marigold found itself caught in an unprecedented tempest. The ship was battered, tossed like a toy in the waves, and it seemed certain to meet a watery grave. While the crew was trapped below deck, awaiting their fate, it was Ewan who stood strong at the helm with this very compass in hand, following its unwavering needle despite his fear, and together, they held course. When dawn finally broke, the storm had passed and the ship had miraculously persevered. The crew emerged from below deck and they found themselves not only alive but in sight of land - an island uncharted by any map.¡±
¡°The crew discovered treasures on the island: rare spices, pearls, and strange plants that would save lives in the years to come. Some swore the compass had led them there deliberately, offering a chance not only for survival but for prosperity. Others believed it was merely Ewan¡¯s faith and skill that saved them. But regardless, the wealth and reputation of Ewan Calder was secure.¡±
¡°After Ewan retired, the compass changed hands several times. It passed to explorers, treasure hunters, and adventurers, many claiming it led them to their destiny and many more claiming that it led them to their fortune. But the blessing of the compass was also a curse for, just as often, those who didn¡¯t respect it - those who saw it only as a bauble - met with misfortune.¡±
Theo leaned forward, his voice quiet, as though sharing a most intimate secret. ¡°This compass doesn¡¯t just point north, Jem. It¡¯s a reminder. You can lose your way, face storms you think will sink you, but there¡¯s always a path. It¡¯ll lead you somewhere, if you trust it - and trust yourself.¡±
Jem turned the compass over in his hands, his young mind churning with possibilities. For the first time Theo could remember, the boy didn¡¯t crack a joke or flash a mischievous grin. He simply nodded; his eyes alight with a new kind of curiosity.
¡°I¡¯ll take it,¡± he says finally, his voice steady. ¡°It¡¯s just the companion I¡¯ve been looking for.¡±
Theo hesitates for a moment; he wasn¡¯t expecting Jem to actually buy it and he¡¯s not entirely sure what to make of Jem¡¯s sudden change in demeanor. But he¡¯s seen enough over the years to know that people carry weight of change in their own ways.
¡°Alright. But the compass costs twenty-five dollars,¡± Theo says, tapping the counter lightly. ¡°Do you have that much?¡±
Jem reaches into his jacket pocket, pulling out a crumpled $50 bill, but instead of handing it directly to Theo, he slides it across the counter with an almost ceremonious gesture. Even at his age, Jem realizes an item like this is worth way more than the asking price. Theo must be trying to help him out.
¡°Keep the change,¡± he says, standing up and pushing the compass into his pocket.
Theo smiles warmly as he rings up the transaction and presses the change insistently into Jem¡¯s hand.
Theo watches him walk out, the bell chiming softly as the door swings closed. He¡¯s left with the feeling that the boy has just crossed some invisible threshold - whether it¡¯s into something new, or just deeper into whatever life has in store for him, Theo can¡¯t be sure. But there¡¯s something different about him, and it lingers in the air long after he left the store.