Chapter 2 Ashvale’s Market of Shadows

The streets of Ashvale have been alive since dawn broke. Smoke billowed from the blacksmith’s workshop, merchants shouted, trying to outdo each other in the markets, and the air was filled with the aroma of roasted meat, sweat, and hot iron being relentlessly forged.

I pulled my cloak tighter, slipping through the crowd that was already gathering, people passing by with their own purposes. Amid the bustling market, I could pretend to be unseen. Almost. Like I do every day, becoming invisible.

“Good morning, do you need help with sewing?” I asked the wife of a merchant, showing my worn needle. The woman quickly shook her head, pulling her shawl higher as if my presence made her uneasy.

At another stall, I offered to wash pots, carry sacks, even sweep the floor. Most ignored me. An old spice seller hesitated, his eyes slightly blurred by age looking me over from hair to foot. For a moment, hope sprang. But when his gaze stopped at my neck, his face went pale. He muttered softly.

“No. Go away.”

I reflexively touched my neck though there was no mark there. My stomach tightened, I felt his presence seemed to deliberately make me miserable. Even here, that bond still lingered, invisible though it was.

“Rough morning?” a voice appeared behind me.

I quickly turned, heart jumping. A man leaned casually against a wooden post, his arms folded with ease. His body was upright, his gaze sharp, with the calm demeanor of someone used to living close to danger, I thought as I looked at him.

“My name is Dorian, it seems you’re having trouble,” he said. “You need money. I need this package delivered to the eastern district. A small job, the pay is enough for a week’s rent and food.”

I hesitated. Instinct whispered not to trust strangers. But thinking of the coins in my pocket almost gone felt like a slap telling me I had little choice. Slowly, I nodded.

“Good,” Dorian grinned, handing over a small bundle. “Don’t open it. Just deliver it.”

I slipped the package under my cloak and continued walking. Passing the square, I heard faint conversation from two mercenaries near the smithy.

“…the Alpha Kael people are already in town… looking for a woman.”

“…dark hair, strange eyes… she’s not far from this area.”

My blood felt freeze. I forced my legs to keep moving, naturally speeding up and not daring to look back. When I arrived at the narrow alleys of the eastern district, the market noise had completely vanished. My footsteps sounded too loud on the stone street. Then I heard another step, calm and purposeful, following behind.

I stopped. The sound stopped too. Slowly, I turned. From the shadow of the wall, someone stepped forward as if to catch me right then. Tall, he was also upright, standing blocking the only exit at the end.

“You shouldn’t be here, Elara.”

His voice was low and cold, like a knife slicing through the air. My heart pounded wildly. Instinct yelled at me to run as fast as I could from this mysterious figure.

I didn’t wait for him to approach. I spun and ran with all my might, my cloak sweeping the wet cobblestones as I dashed through the winding alley. His voice still echoed behind, cold and calm, but I didn’t look back, not once, I wasn’t a fool who slowed time just to know who was stalking me.

The alleys of Ashvale were like a labyrinth, but one thing I understood clearly: if I stopped, I’d die. I focused on the package clenched under my cloak. Whatever waited in the shadows, I couldn’t fail to deliver this package. These coins meant shelter. Food. A chance to survive under Ashvale’s harsh sky.

When I finally reached the eastern area, my lungs burned and my legs wobbled. The figure was gone. Or maybe still watching from afar. I couldn’t be sure and for a moment I didn’t care.

I found the address Dorian had written on a worn piece of paper. An old apothecary, its window closed, the signboard faded. I knocked once. No answer. Twice. Still silent.

Then slowly, the door opened. A thin, pale hand grabbed the package from mine. Without a word. Without showing a face. The package disappeared, the door slammed shut. Slightly shocked, but that was how it was, I was used to unpleasant treatment every day.

For a moment, everything felt silent. I should have felt relief. But what came was a cold creeping into my bones. When I turned to leave, my steps froze.

At the end of the street, leaning casually in a way too calm for someone pursuing me, stood that shadowy figure again. Still tall, upright, his silver eyes catching a glint of light beneath his cloak and hood.

He wasn’t chasing me. He didn’t need to. He was just waiting. I stood still where I was, staring where he stood. My stomach tensed with a feeling hard to explain, but I forced myself to turn away despite the heaviness.

I couldn’t let this take over my mind. My life was already hard enough, moving from town to town, scraping coins just to buy food and rent the next cheap room. Whoever he was, whatever game he wanted to play, I didn’t want to get involved.

So I walked away. Head down, quick steps, blending back with Ashvale’s crowd. The sound of merchants and beggars welcomed me back and I clung to that noise like a shield.

Don’t look back. Don’t think. Just survive. Then when the sun began to set, I decided not to meet Dorian again. The job was done, the coins in hand, and that was all that mattered. The mysterious figure hunting me and the secret conspiracy swirling in Ashvale weren’t something I could bear.

But when night came, lying on the thin mattress in another rented room I paid for today’s wage, sleep wouldn’t come, I sighed lazily. The shadow of those silver eyes still haunted me, sharper than nightmares, I rubbed my hair, it kept spinning in my mind.

And when the wind shook the window, I was sure I heard a faint whisper, so close at my ear.

“Elara…”

My body tensed. The candle flickered as if blown by the wind. My reason whispered it was impossible. No one could find me this fast, I was used to disappearing and my mind was hard to find, especially within hours. But the voice came again, carried by the wind sneaking through the window gap.

Cold crept slowly through my chest. My heart screamed at me to run away again, but where? I had to pack up and vanish before dawn. But my mind, stubborn as always, reminded me I couldn’t keep letting fear rule my life, enough already.

I rose, grabbed the dagger beneath the pillow, and looked out through the crack of the window. Empty street. Or seemed empty. Then, a shadow moved again. The same figure stepped out from the darkness of the alley. Still tall, upright, and now he felt so intimidating pressing down on me.

And in a flash, he vanished again, I swallowed hard. The warning was clear. And deadlier than any cold night I had ever walked through. Who was he really? What did he want? Now I realized, I was being hunted, by someone unknown.