The woman was more handsome than beautiful, with a wide, sharp jaw, and full, smirking lips. She looked like she knew something nobody else did, and preferred it that way.
"Looking for something rare?" Her voice was smooth, rich, like dark honey. "Or are you just lost?"
"Both."
The woman's golden eyes flickered with amusement. Her manicured fingers traced the edge of a velvet-lined tray displaying a collection of small, polished bones. "A rare admission." She tilted her head, dark braids shifting like serpents over her shoulders. "Most men pretend they know exactly what they want until they're drowning in debt…of one kind or another."
Wes studied her wares—the bones were carved with intricate runes, their surfaces unnaturally smooth. He said, "I heard about you from Tamlin. He said you might have things I want. And so you know I am not wasting your time..." He bought out a few of the plastic animal figures he'd manifested earlier through Cosmic Vending and set them on the table. "Art from another world."
The woman's eyes glowed as she picked up one of the plastic figurines—a tiny elephant frozen mid-trumpet. Her fingers turned it slowly, examining the flawless seams and unnatural smoothness. "Tamlin sent you with trinkets?" She set the elephant down with deliberate care. "I deal in power, stranger. Not toys."
Wes nodded slowly and bought out his trump card. A cheap, cheaply made, plain little stun gun and flashlight. He'd fully charged it earlier while he slept. Wes held it up and said, "I have here the power of lightning, made miniature. It is mechanical, not magical, the weapon of another world." Then he triggered it, making the angry, harsh, jarring, popping sound of a stun gun that most modern people on earth have heard before in movies. The crackling blue arc of electricity lit the woman's face in jagged bursts, casting sharp shadows across her high cheekbones. She didn't flinch—her golden eyes tracked the stun gun's discharge with clinical fascination. When the noise ceased, the silence between them felt heavier.
"Now that," she murmured, "is something worth discussing." She pursed her lips not trying to hide her interest. "How many charges remain?"
"It is less a matter of charges than run time. It also has a light." He demonstrated the flashlight. "But the small lightning effect requires more power. I would guess it has a few minutes of power. However, what makes this unique is that it can be recharged from the sun with another device I have.” He pulled a little solar power back out of his pack. “However, that is worth more, and I would need to see something I truly want to trade them both." With his pitch made, he turned the light back on.
The woman's golden eyes burned brighter, her full lips parting slightly as she watched the flashlight beam cut through the gloom. "A sun-powered lightning weapon," she murmured. Her tongue darted out to wet her lips. "What exactly would tempt you to part with such treasures?"
Wes let the question hang, scanning her wares again. "I'm not really sure what I'm looking for, to be honest. Survivability? Travel ability? Clothing?” It was time to lie again. “Due to my unique magic, I have lost some of my memories. I am in a part of the world right now I am not familiar with."
The woman's golden eyes flickered with even deeper interest. Her fingers tapped thoughtfully against the velvet-lined tray. "A man without memories but with otherworldly artifacts..." She tilted her head, dark braids swaying. "Tamlin sent you to me for a reason."
She reached beneath her stall and produced a small iron chest, its surface etched with angular runes that had no visible fluctuations to the naked eye, but pulsed faintly under Wes's newly awakened Astral Fang senses. The runes shimmered a pale blue as the woman lifted the lid. Inside lay three objects: a slender silver circlet, a vial of swirling black liquid, and a palm-sized crystal that seemed to have a shadow moving around it. It was bizarre. .
"Choose your poison," she murmured, her golden eyes reflecting the artifacts' glow.
Wes studied each item carefully. The circlet was finely wrought, its edges sharp enough to draw blood if mishandled. He gingerly picked the items up one at a time, trying to learn what they were.
The silver circlet hummed faintly against Wes's fingers—an unnatural vibration that resonated with his newly awakened Astral Fang senses. Etched runes flared briefly along its inner rim, revealing its nature to him, as if he was reading English. It was called Mindspike Band. The circlet was created to disrupt concentration of nearby casters when activated. The effect would be temporary, but in a fight between mages, even a second's distraction could mean death.
Next, the vial of swirling black liquid felt heavier than its size suggested. Wes could immediately tell this was not some temporary potion or poison; its effects would be permanent. The vial's contents sloshed against the glass as if alive—Soulforging Elixir—ingesting it would bind a sliver of another being's essence, one from the Underworld, to the drinker, granting one ability at random from the hundreds of beings essence used to create this batch. A gamble with potentially useless and expensive consequences. Additionally, only one such elixir could ever be drunk in a lifetime.
The crystal was the most intriguing of all. It felt like an egg...or a seed. The crystal was cool in Wes's palm, its surface smooth yet alive with subtle vibrations. Shadows swirled within its depths like ink dispersing in water—Mystic Nightshade Seed—a living artifact that would grow into a guardian entity if planted in fertile soil and fed with drops of the owner's blood. Once matured, it would obey simple commands and defend its territory with shadowy tendrils.
He had no idea how he knew all this, but it was as plain as if he felt a touch to the back of the head. Just…facts. Reality.
Wes said out loud, "A mindspike band, Soulforging Elixir, and a Mystic Nightshade seed. All very interesting."
She looked at him in shock and intrigue. "You could identify them all!?"
He immediately knew he'd made a mistake, quickly realizing his ability might not be common, probably wasn’t, and it was too late to walk it back. "Is that a problem?"
The woman's golden eyes burned. "No," she murmured, voice low and measured. "Just unexpected." Her braids swayed as she leaned forward slightly. "A scholar's appraisal and diagnostic tools are usually used to discern such artifacts—especially the seed. Such things can be time consuming and expensive."
Wes kept his expression neutral, though tension coiled in his shoulders. He'd already slipped twice tonight—first with the elf, now here.
The mysterious woman grinned. "I have three more artifacts. One I know the name and function of, two I do not. If you name them all true, and I will know since I know the truth of one, I will owe you."
"Owe me what?"
"A favor. Information. Value towards a trade. Safe passage through certain circles." She tilted her head, dark braids swaying. "Pick one. For trade, perhaps we can discuss other artifacts from my private collection, too."
Wes weighed the risks. His ability to identify magical objects was clearly unusual here—but so was everything else about him. How much did he want to stand out before knowing more about this world. He gave it a second of thought before slowly saying, "Let me see the three you want identified."
The woman's golden eyes gleamed as she reached beneath her stall once more. This time, she withdrew a wooden case inlaid with tarnished silver filigree. The hinges whispered as she opened it, revealing three new artifacts resting on faded velvet.
First was an ornate dagger with a hilt carved from yellowed bone, its blade bearing strange grooves.Next lay a silver ring set with a cracked black stone. The third item was a necklace with a square shaped pendant.
The bone-handled dagger felt unnaturally warm in Wes's grip, its grooves pulsing faintly with latent energy. Sure enough, bizarre recognition flared: Worldbark High Serpent Dagger. It was a cursed blade that injected venom with each cut, its poison intensifying with repeated strikes against the same target. The wielder would eventually succumb to its effects as well if overused.
The silver ring's cracked black stone radiated a dull aura. The moment Wes touched it, the stone flared with a brief, tiny, but noticable crimson light. Just like that, he knew it was calle the Corethana Bloodseal Ring. It was a forbidden artifact that absorbed spilled blood within ten paces, storing it in the cracked gem. When activated, it could unleash the stored blood as a corrosive spray or fuel dark rituals.
He moved on to examining the pendant. It felt inert at first, cold and unremarkable against Wes's fingers. He had to push a little deeper, then realized that the seemingly mundane nature of the artifact was part of its function.
The pendant's true nature unfolded in his mind, and he knew it was called the Mystic Veiling Pendant. It was a deceptive artifact that masked the wearer's magical signature, making them appear as a non-mage to detection spells and wards. The longer it was worn, the more complete the concealment became, though removing it would immediately dispel the effect.
The woman's golden eyes burned with anticipation as Wes set the pendant down. "Well?" she asked, her voice full of anticipation.
Wes decided to be honest. "The dagger is a Worldbark High Serpent Dagger. It deals poison to a target, more with each attack, but can poison the user if overused. The ring is called Corethana Bloodseal ring. It absorbs blood spilled nearby for an attack, or to fuel dark magic. And the pendant is called Mystic Veiling Pendant, it masks magic for who wears it, and even masks its own."
The woman's eyes widened for a heartbeat before her expression smoothed into her normal expression. "You're correct about the Veiling Pendant," she admitted, her voice measured. "Which means you must have named the others true as well. Fascinating."
Then she smiled, the expression not warm. "Since you claim to have little knowledge of this area, I will tell you this free...your ability is worth a great deal to certain individuals and groups. Unless you can protect yourself properly, or have assurances of safety, it would be...unwise to show it off too often."
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"I already figured," said Wes. He added, mostly bluster, “I can take care care of myself. But for items, so far, I want the Soulforging Elixir and the Mystic Nightshade Seed."
The woman's golden eyes narrowed fractionally. Her fingers drummed against the iron chest's lid with measured precision. "An interesting choice. The elixir is a gamble. You could gain something magnificent or useless." She tilted her head. "Tell me, how learned are you, really? Can you...identify spell tomes, or grimoires?"
Wes' hand stayed hear his pocket and his pistol, trying to exude an aura of confidence. His answer was not entirely honest. "Many, yes." As far as he knew, he could actually identify them all.
The woman's fingers stilled on the iron chest. A slow smile spread across her full lips, revealing teeth that seemed just a shade too white in the witchlight. "Then we have much to discuss indeed." She closed the lid with a soft click and gestured to the shadows behind her stall. "My private collection is not for prying eyes."
Wes hesitated only a moment before following her into the cramped alcove behind the velvet-draped table. The space was barely large enough for two, lit by a single witchlight globe that cast long shadows over empty shelves. There was one chest in the back corner that she opened and reached inside up to the armpits. It was obviously bigger on the inside than the outside.
The golden-eyed woman withdrew a worn leather tome bound in what appeared to be some kind of reptilian hide, its surface etched with angular script that glowed faintly under Wes's enhanced sight. "This," she murmured, running her fingers along the spine, "came from a second layer realm of the Underword, one that I've never heard of another diver visit before, a realm called Grandleheam. I've had scholars throw their hands up the sight of it—none could decipher more than a handful of words."
Wes studied the book carefully as she set it on a small wooden stand. It didn't have anything written on the cover that was intelligible, the script didn’t mean anything, so he flipped it open. Immediately, he could tell it was written in two different languages that looked similar, with alternating passages and sentences, sometimes even mixed words. It took him a minute, but he figured out what the tome was. It seemed to be a hybrid grimoire—its pages alternating between two distinct but related languages, both belonging to the same feline race. The first was a formal script used by scholars, while the second appeared to be a more colloquial dialect. The book detailed an ancient form of sand magic called Dune Wave Weaving—the art of manipulating sand as utility and a weapon. The way it was written was to prevent the magic from falling into the hands of rival clans.
“It’s a code,” he said.
The golden-eyed woman watched him with predatory focus, her fingers tapping against the chest's lid. "Do you know what it is?" she asked. She picked up the tome, flipping through it herself.
"Yes, but I'm not going to keep giving you free information without something tangible promised in return, first."
The woman frowned and stilled in thought. She frowned and said, "Fair enough." She set the tome down gently. "Name your price for the translation—and don't insult me by pretending you can't read it."
Wes studied her for a long moment. "I told you which artifacts I wanted. How about you tell me how much value you put towards the two of them for identifying the two artifacts I've already identified for you, and this tome on top of that?"
Her lips curled into a calculating smile. She tapped one manicured nail against the grimoire's reptilian hide cover. "The seed and the elixir together are worth more than a translation, at least a quick one." Her golden eyes flicked up to meet his. "But knowledge is power, and power has a price. Tell me everything this tome contains—not just its name—and I'll consider the debt settled for both artifacts."
"What do you mean by everything it contains? And like you said, a full translation is going to be worth a hell of a lot more. It’d take a long time, too."
The strange-eyed woman nodded. "Not just the magic system's name—its principles, limitations, warnings. The sort of details that separate true scholars and mages from fools who get themselves killed." Her golden eyes gleamed in the witchlight. "Basically, enough to make it useful…or have enough context to sell."
Wes considered. Then he decided to be sneaky. He said, "Very well, but I have a rare device I will use to help learn more about the tome. You can watch me, or not...I suspect you have security in this place for your items, given how valuable they are. But if you give me... five minutes or so, I can use my tool, then give you the knowledge you seek before claiming the artifacts I want. Is this acceptable to you?"
Her lips parted slightly, revealing those unnaturally white teeth. She seemed to be figuring out if Wes was trying to scam her. Her fingers tapped a slow rhythm against the grimoire's cover.
"Five minutes," she finally agreed after a measured pause. "But if you damage even a single page..." She didn't finish the threat, letting the weight of her unblinking golden stare convey the consequences.
Wes nodded, took out his phone, and immediately started snapping pictures, angling the phone away from the mysterious woman as he did. He methodically went from page to page, looking at the viewfinder and pictures as little as possible to maintain the illusion that this phone was some sort of diagnostic or translation tool. The woman stepped back, giving him space, but watched with her bizarre, glowing eyes.
Finally, happy with all the pictures he’d taken, Wes put the phone away and flipped through the book, reading as he went. For him, it was as easy as reading English. The concepts weren't even all that difficult, given what he already understood of natural sciences and magic, now.
"Time's up," said the woman.
Wes chuckled. "It occurs to me that given how nobody until now could read this, five minutes is not a lot."
"Yes, well, you are getting two artifacts for it, aren't you? Knowledge is valuable. Quick knowledge is even more valuable.”
"Don’t forget, my payment to you also the two other identifications I've given for artifacts."
She frowned. "I hope for your sake you are not stalling or trying to scam me."
"No, just acknowledging that this is a bit absurd, given what you've told me."
The mysterious woman exhaled sharply through her nose. Her fingers tapped a rapid staccato against the grimoire's cover before stilling. It was obvious she was burning with curiosity. "Then enlighten me, stranger. What does this tome contain?"
Wes flipped to the first page. "It's called Dune Wave Weaving. Dune Wave Weaving was a magic system developed by a feline race called the Khlesh. This tome is written in two different Khlesh languages, a formal language, and in informal dialect that uses different grammar rules and spelling."
He paused. "The magic was developed because the Khlesh lived, or live in an arid world. This magic uses sand as a medium for most spells and rites. Almost half the book is about spells to use magic to travel, or to travel over sand without sinking into it, or even to create shelter with sand.
“One obvious drawback is that without sand around, it is far less versatile, which is why the Khelsh created an interesting supplemental magic to address that. Using friction, this magic can separate soil and remove moisture, creating sand on command. This can also be used to dig deep or steam sand to create water, which is a clever way of gathering water despite the magic being entirely focused on sand manipulation.
“Offensive spells involve sand blasts, and even creating spears of sand to throw. Defensive spells are excellent against magic, since the sand particles are good for disrupting other spells, but very bad at stopping arrows, or, ironically, attacks from other Dune Wave Weaving-mages. Because of this fact, spells for swimming through sand, or being physically fit are suggested as ways to survive duels with other Dune Wave Weaving mages.
“Obvious strengths of this system are using this magic when surrounded by sand. Weaknesses are how it would be of limited use if one were in the mountains surrounded by snow. However, since the Khlesh lived in such an arid place, they didn't consider water or the ocean as part of their day-to-day. In my opinion, I think this magic would also be very powerful and useful for coastal mages.
“Actual study of this magic, if the tome were translated, would not be very difficult, if one were educated. Without education, it still would not be too difficult…in my opinion. However, while learning the magic would not be difficult, I think mastery would be, since it would depend on one's imagination or ability to mentally conceptualize numerous sand particles.
“This tome contains no real warnings, past the reminder that practitioners should drink plenty of water. Communion with the sand can make a mage forget to hydrate, not least of which, drinking water can feel like being less attuned to the sand."
She breathed in open astonishment. "Excellent." The woman smiled. Her unnatural eyes burned with rapt attention as Wes spoke, her lips parting slightly. Then she exhaled slowly through her nose.
"Fascinating," she murmured, shaking her head. Her slender fingers traced the edge of the tome gently. "A complete system...not just combat spells but survival arts." She tilted her head, placing the two artifacts down that Wes had said he wanted. "These are yours. In truth one of the artifacts you identified for me earlier is worth so much, I have, by far, come up on top of this exchange. But I am curious...what do you actually want, stranger? I wish I had something of value to tempt you to translate the entire tome for me."
"My name is Wes." He grabbed the seed and the elixir. Then he paused. "I want to know...about other worlds. Maybe related to the Underworld, maybe not. I need...a library, or experts." He couldn't just say he wanted to find out why he was in this world, or how he could go home...or at least send a message back home. He struggled to convey what he wanted. "I suppose...I want to know how to cross between universes, or communicate with them."
The woman's golden eyes flared brighter, her fingers tightening around the grimoire. A slow, knowing smile spread across her lips. "Ah. You seek the impossible." She tilted her head, dark braids swaying. "But then again, you already possess impossible skills."
She seemed to consider further, then said, "I am called Lashfira. It is not the name I was born with, but I like this one better and chose it myself."
"It sounds very mysterious and magick-y," Wes agreed.
"Indeed.” She gave him a fleeting, sincere smile. “In case you were not aware, this country is Valtros. The capital is Valdrin. In Valdrin lives a man I owe a favor. I happen to know he has at least one grimoire that is unidentified. If you find him, and help him with that, and tell him I sent you, the favor I owe him will be paid off. Should you agree to do this for me, I know he can point you in the right direction for the knowledge you seek."
Wes nodded slowly. "Alright. Who is it? What is his name?"
Lashfira picked up the grimoire, seeming to not want to put it down for the moment. "Lord Kendris Karthos is his name, a collector of rare knowledge and artifacts. His estate lies in the Scholar's Quarter of Valdrin." She leaned forward slightly, the witchlight casting sharp shadows across her high cheekbones. "Just make sure to tell him I sent you."
Wes nodded slowly. "Alright. I will do that."
Lashfira's golden eyes flickered with satisfaction. She slid the grimoire back into its magical chest and produced a small silver token from her belt pouch. "Show this to Lord Kendris. It bears my mark."
The token was cool against Wes's palm, its surface etched with a design that shimmered faintly—a stylized fox curled around a crescent moon. He pocketed it.
"One last thing." Lashfira's fingers lingered near the iron chest. "If you're heading to Valdrin, be cautious with that sword of yours." Her golden eyes flicked to Whereharth's hilt. "Blades from the deeper layers attract attention—both good and bad."
Wes gave a curt nod, his hand resting casually near his concealed pistol, although he didn't expect her to try anything at this point. Still, until he got back to earth, or figured out what the hell was going on, he didn't plan to let down his guard.
"I'll be going then," he said, "unless you've changed your mind about buying animal figurines. Or unless you have something massively valuable that I’d want."
Lashfira's golden eyes narrowed with amusement. She tapped one long nail against the iron chest. "Keep your trinkets, Wes. And even I must be careful with the amount of power I lug around will-nilly, so I do not have many more trades you would want. But if you find more artifacts like that lightning device, or wish to part with that one..." Her lips curved in a smile that didn't reach her predatory gaze. "I restock often."
The night air felt heavier when Wes stepped back into the market proper. His new acquisitions weighed little in his pockets but carried immense potential—and danger.
