The market was quiet.

  Not empty. Not deserted. Not silent in the way an ordinary place might fall silent in the dead of night. This silence was something deeper, something threaded into the very bones of the cavern, into the damp stone walls that wept with condensation, into the heavy air thick with the scent of age and decay. It was a silence that was expectant. Watching. Listening. Holding its breath.

  The robed figure had not moved. His skeletal hand remained outstretched, the blackened skin clinging to his long, unnatural fingers, waiting, the words he had spoken still thick in the stagnant air between them.

  "One sister will suffice."

  Sandra's breath caught.

  Her fingers gripped Gemini's arm, trembling slightly, her small frame stiff with the effort to keep still, to hold back whatever instinct was screaming at her to run, to bolt back through the archway, to tear herself away from whatever this place had awakened. But there was nowhere to go. Nowhere to hide.

  The market had found her. And now it would gather. Lea's stomach twisted.

  She had known from the moment they had set foot in this place, from the second the carriage had carried them through the mist and down into the belly of something ancient, that the Market did not forgive. That debts were never really erased, only postponed. That no matter how long she had run, no matter how carefully she had bartered, she had never been free.

  And now it was time to pay.

  She had not spoken. Had not moved. Barely breathed since the words had been spoken. Because she knew it was her fault.

  She had believed that she could cheat the market, that she and Maddox could slip between the cracks, offering up stolen goods while remaining untouched themselves. But the market was never blind. It was patient. And it was precise.

  It did not ask for what was owed to it. It just took.

  A slow ripple swept through the stalls. The creatures lurking behind the wooden counters became still, their strange, shifting forms frozen in place. The vendors, their wares glistening wetly in the flickering light, fell silent. And in the cages that lined the farthest walls, the things that clattered inside - things with too many limbs, with too many teeth, with eyes that never blinked - ceased their restless movements.

  They listened. And then Gemini laughed.

  Not a nervous laugh, not a sound of fear or disbelief, but something else. Deep. Amused. Sure. The market was shifting. Not away from her. Toward her. Sandra's grip tightened, and her breath caught. "Gem, don't-" But Gemini was already stepping forward.

  Slowly. Smoothly. Bare feet, silent on the damp stone floor. She tilted her head, letting her dark hair spill over her shoulder, her lips curling just enough to reveal the edges of her teeth. She lifted her chin, her gaze locked with the emptiness beneath the hooded figure's cloak.

  "You don't understand," she murmured. The air thickened.

  The silence stretched too long, the cave pressing in around them, wrapping around their ribs like unseen fingers. The robed figure did not lower its hand, did not react, and did not acknowledge the shift. But the market did. The things that watched from their stalls leaned forward. The whispers that had been silenced moments before crept back into the air, curling between them like smoke.

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  Sandra's nails dug into Gemini's arm. "Stop," she whispered, her voice barely audible. Gemini just smiled. "You don't choose me," she whispered. She raised her hands slightly, palms up. "I choose." The Market exhaled.

  The sellers stirred. The creatures moved closer. The robed figure's head tilted slightly as if considering them as if recalculating the equation. And then a cry. High. Wet. Choking.

  Sandra spun around so fast that she almost tripped. One of the cages had begun to shake violently. The thing inside was moving. The scream was not human. Not anymore. It had started that way - sharp, raw, desperate - but then it cracked, warped into something else, something thick and guttural, something wet and wrong.

  Lea turned sharply toward the sound, her breath catching in her throat, her stomach twisting with recognition. This wasn't a buyer. This wasn't a seller. This was something else. The man in the cage was convulsing.

  His body rippled, the flesh shifting and folding over itself, stretching unnaturally. His arms lengthened, his fingers twisted at the wrong angles, and his spine arched until his ribs nearly split through his skin. His mouth had turned inward, swallowing the rest of his face, leaving only two wet, glistening sockets where his eyes should have been. Lea's pulse pounded.

  Sandra clutched her sleeve. "What-" Gemini sighed, watching with something close to fascination.

  "They don't just sell children," she murmured. Sandra swallowed, her voice barely more than a breath. "Then what..." Gemini turned, eyes dark and shining. "They're doing something." The creature in the cage screamed again. But this time it was not a cry of fear. It was a call.

  And something deep beneath them - something vast and waiting, something so much older than the market, so much hungrier - answered. The sound was not a voice. It was a heartbeat. A whisper. A hunger. Sandra trembled.

  Lea took a sharp breath, fingers twitching at her side, reaching for a weapon she already knew would be useless. "We have to go," Sandra whispered, tugging at Gemini's arm. "Now." But Gemini didn't move. Instead, she stepped forward, bare feet pressing into the damp stone, her shadow stretching impossibly long under the flickering lights.

  The hooded figure did not lower his hand. The words still lingered, curling in the thick air between them. "One sister will suffice." Sandra felt sick. She knew that look on Gemini's face.

  She'd seen it before, in childhood games, in conversations that didn't feel like conversations, in moments when Gemini had tested, pushed, waited to see if the others could keep up. And they never had.

  Sandra grabbed her wrist, her voice breaking. "Gemini, stop." But Gemini ignored her. She took another slow step forward as her expression changed. Not playful. Not mocking. Not amused. Something colder. Something final.

  "I have a deal," she said quietly. The market held its breath. Even the caged things fell silent. The robed figure hesitated. That was all it needed. She tilted her head, lowering her voice to something silkier, something sharp.

  "Something better than us." Lea's pulse ticked. Sandra's stomach twisted. Because Gemini wasn't bluffing. She knew something. And the market wanted to hear it.

  The figure in the hood shifted, the darkness beneath it shifting with it. "A better offer?" Gemini's lips parted slightly, her fingers still open, as if inviting, as if offering.

  She turned her head slightly, just enough to meet Lea's gaze. Just enough to hold it. Then she smiled. Slowly and surely, whispering: "Let me show you." Sandra felt her breath catch. Because she wasn't afraid of Gemini anymore.

  She was afraid of what would happen if they said yes.