A certain sage had made him speed-run through his rift quota, so he spent his recovery days wandering between cafes, writing reports, and cross-referencing research. Effie had sent him the materials he requested on ancient glyphs, local alchemic methods, and the history of every rift site in Tellur. Having her department on their side made a world of difference.
Across from them, the Governor gleamed in every sense of the word, his horn catching the light as he lifted his cup. Hosting a meeting in a teahouse chilled enough to warrant a jacket in midsummer, only to serve hot tea inside it, felt like a prideful study in excess. He had insisted on showing them the newly “revitalized cultural district,” confident they would find it charming. He smiled broadly, clearly pleased with both himself and the setting.
To his credit, the market was beautiful.
It stretched through the building as a long indoor corridor of polished stone, capped by stained-glass arches. Sunlight filtered through them in shifting prisms, scattering color across tiled floors. Stalls overflowed with bright confections, polished crystals, and potted herbs that perfumed the air with mint and jasmine The light shifted as clouds passed, setting a slow rhythm that cast a calming aura across the market.
The Governor spoke proudly about how difficult it was to book this teahouse, how popular it had become since the renovation, and how grateful he was that they had “accommodated the schedule change.” In practice, the meeting had been delayed for his extended vacation, conveniently timed with the festival. He had celebrated it in the Forged Nation, which didn’t even observe Tellur’s summer holiday.
He was a dick, but at least he was a dick to everyone, his own people included. His staff had spent two and a half weeks apologizing to Central while he enjoyed himself abroad. When the check-in finally happened, it was brutal. Several rifts had risen into C- and B-classifications in what should have been a low-risk region with D-grade anomalies at most. Fines, budget cuts, increased oversight, and possibly total departmental reorganizations were on the horizon if no explanation surfaced.
The Governor, however, seemed unperturbed. He claimed it was an unprecedented surge in unstable mana, something Sage Aster’s team in the Forged Nation could vouch for.
He was banking on Central finding it too tedious to challenge the Forged over a territory with little alchemic value. Most likely, one of Aster’s familiars—A-rank alchemists themselves—would arrive to offer polite reasons that everyone could pretend to believe.
At least, that had been the cadence until the director of Nireya’s alchemic faction had a nephew go missing. Someone in the Governor’s circle clearly hadn’t realized the surveying apprentice was connected to an alchemic family; the two didn’t share a surname. Otherwise, that apprentice would have been the one sitting here now, treated with curated courtesies and watched over carefully, rather than the Lycans who had taken his place.
Apprentices were usually assigned to low-risk surveys to build experience before participating in solo unravelings. Well-connected students found placements in desirable cities. The less dedicated among that demographic were shipped off to remote posts for “easy” fieldwork. It was popular as a means of punishment for prominent families, throwing their insubordinate children into a life lesson. Many prominent alchemic families—like the Vuongs, Kai’s own lineage—stood as dynasties within the craft. Their names carried weight and prestige, woven into the history of every academy and guild hall. For every heir who pursued the discipline with genuine interest, another was steered into it by purse strings and the pressure to uphold a family’s influence.
The Governor should have realized his usual tactics were no longer holding. The proof sat in front of him: two high-ranked alchemists from a guild whose reputation was more valuable than anything he could offer.
A staffer with lapis-blue horns, who had been anxiously tapping at their phone through the entire meeting, leaned in to whisper to the Governor, “Sage Aster is trying to get in contact with you.” Whether they hadn’t realized the Lycans could hear every word or wanted them to hear it as an intimidation tactic made little difference.
“Ah, sorry to cut this short, but my time is being pulled elsewhere,” the Governor said, rising with a polished smile. “Please, stay as long as you’d like. My assistant will see to anything you need.” He patted the shoulder of the lapis-eyed subordinate and swept out with his aides.
The remaining Arcanite official looked abruptly younger and far less confident. Their blue horns turned back and forth as they checked who was staying, realizing a little too late that they alone had been left in charge.
“Uhm… if you need anything… just ask…” they said, before taking a sip of tea, immediately choking on it, and turning red as they coughed into a sleeve.
Both Lycans’ ears flicked toward each other. It was hard not to feel bad for the kid; they looked fresh out of college. Kai moved to set down his cup, and the assistant’s eyes followed the motion as though it might explode.
“Yeah, actually,” Kai said.
Stolen from its rightful author, this tale is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.
A glimmer formed in the assistant’s lapis eyes, possibly about to cry. That clearly wasn’t the answer they’d hoped for.
“What local snacks or food from this market would you recommend as souvenirs?”
“OH! Uh— yes! There’s a shop here that sells shortbread marsh cookies!”
Kai nodded along as they launched into an enthusiastic list of their favorite stalls and sweets. Nico’s tail swished in relief for them. The Lycans wrapped up quickly and stepped into the wider market, leaving the poor assistant to reclaim their peace.
***
The market stretched along a simple corridor. A straight path ran down its center, broad enough for carts and easy conversation. The kind of layout meant to reassure visitors there was a clear way in and a clear way out. Vendors lined the aisle in neat, color-coordinated rows. Their counters overflowed with fresh fruit, jars of jams and honey, and display cases of breads and pastries arranged in appetizing stacks.
The air was heavily perfumed with floral notes, bark, moss, spices, and… ozone. It was easy to go nose-blind to, especially with so many scents layered on top of it. If only that weren’t the Lycans’ entire job, to notice it.
It was striking how much mana pollution lingered just outside the district. Blight was eagerly creeping to the market’s edge a mere few blocks away. Walking into a pristine, curated market after that felt surreal. The Governor had sent a car with tinted windows, maybe as an attempt to keep them from noticing, but the sharp metallic smell clung to everything. It’s not like they small-talked about smelling stuff with the staffers, but with the ears and tails and all, it would’ve been safe to assume the two of them were going to smell it.
They wandered into one of the recommended bakeries and picked up several packs of shortbread cookies in different floral flavors. This time they got cold drinks, overheated from the steaming tea they had just downed, and found an open seating area.
Nico couldn’t stop thinking about it. Eventually he broke, turning toward Kai.
“Did he really… take us straight to a rift? To have a meeting about rifts he is actively denying the existence of? Is he—”
“I’ll stop you there,” Kai said in monotone, eyes dead but occupied with people-watching. “I know you like to reserve judgement on people, but don’t overthink it.”
“Keep going.” Nico stirred around his cup, trying to get the jelly to drink ratio right.
“The guy is a fucking idiot.”
Nico coughed mid-sip. As he recovered from laughing at how exasperatedly done Kai looked, he noticed movement near the base of the opposite wall. A small Virid woman, height probably barely reaching his ribs, opened a pastel half-door framed in leaves and stepped through. From where he sat, Nico caught a glimpse of another bustling marketplace just beyond before the door closed. His ears tilted, curious.
Many half-doors lined the lower wall, unevenly spaced, painted in muted shades with moss creeping up their frames. Nico had taken them for whimsical decoration. The architecture clearly accounted for Virid and Ori stature, with doorways and shelves set to their scale.
Kai noticed his interest and shrugged, "We're already here."
***
|| Skill Activated || [Lycanthropy]
The shorter market behind the shorter door had much shorter goods. It wasn’t thematically different from the main one—still homewares, food stalls, and entertainment—but everything was scaled and styled for the viney and feathered. A secondary ecosystem tucked neatly inside the larger market, bustling along at its own pace.
A group of Virid saplings burst out from one of the doors, laughing with their arms full of candied blossoms. Some darted across the walkway and vanished through another small door. Others raced up short staircases to reach the upper levels of miniature storefronts.
Nico wasn’t in a shopping mood, so he split off from Kai, who was delighted by everything, especially by the fact that it was all miniature. The wolf trotted away to buy more souvenirs, also miniature.
Nico sniffed along, following the sharp concentration of ozone. He kept reminding himself to appreciate the market’s whimsy rather than focusing solely on the scent. Despite the layered platforms and branching corridors, the central walkway stayed open all the way up to the glass ceiling, letting fractured light wash every level in soft hues of rose and blue.
Water features were scattered throughout. Saplings ran through streams that burst from the floor, while fledglings splashed in shallow fountains. The scent trail led him to a waterfall installation shimmering with mana. Seemed like this was the one meant for him to splash in.
He put a paw through the falling water and met empty air on the other side.
▌Skill Activated ▌[Zephyr Gale]
Wind wrapped around his body as he stepped through; he didn’t want to get wet from walking into a waterfall. There was only one corridor to follow, making it easy on him. The sound shifted as he progressed—muted behind him but open ahead. Voices murmured somewhere deeper inside.
▌Active Skill: Lycanthropy ▌[Deactivate? Y/N]
As his posture straightened in the shadow, he pulled a hoodie from his inventory and tugged it over his ears, flattening them, and tucked his tail above the hem.
Walking toward the light brought back the sound of rushing water. A second waterfall fell in a thin, bright sheet, which the veil of wind split cleanly as he passed through. On the other side, a shallow pool met his boots. He blinked a few times, adjusting to the abrupt shift from dark to light.
This fountain was lined with water hyacinths that sparkled with dew. He reached back to test the waterfall again as he dispelled the wind veil, but this time his palm met a solid stone wall.
Guess it was a one way entrance.
The rift opened into a dense warren of stalls, thick enough with mana that the air felt warm to breathe. The pathways twisted without pattern—a maze of awnings and canopies stitched together from fabrics that glowed faintly along their seams. Overhead, trees formed a loose ceiling. Polished gems were hung from the branches, scattering the light as their glow shifted hues from amber to blue to rose.
More importantly, there was a solid mix of people here: Oris and Virids in the majority, with a speckling of Arcanites mixed in. It was a relief that he didn’t tower awkwardly over an entire secret market of people. Since he only saw stalls and no housing, it seemed everyone here moved freely in and out of the rift. Maintaining a rift with known entry and exit points for resource harvesting wasn’t unheard of, but hosting an entire functioning market inside one was new to him.
Every booth was stocked to the brim with alchemic equipment: inscription bases, glyph templates, portal rings, elemental batteries, stabilizing circlets. Glass tubes wound around brass valves, where vapor condensed and looped in steady cycles while powdered reagents sat sealed under wax. Shards of condensed mana and fragments of alchemic relics rested in shallow dishes of salt, and clusters of raw cores were arranged by element in tidy rows.
The whole place vibrated faintly with restabilizing mana—the kind that only came from freshly harvested Rift material.