The market did not shake. The cavern did not tremble, the ground beneath their feet did not crack, and yet something shifted beneath the fabric of the room, a sensation so deep and unnatural that it made the air feel heavier, the walls seem closer as if some unseen force was inhaling, drawing everything toward it with an inevitability that could not be stopped. The market was listening and waiting.

  The hooded figure, unmoving, unwavering, lowered his hand with slow, deliberate precision, and in that single movement, the balance of power shifted - not in Lea's favor, not toward any sense of safety or control, but toward something far worse, something far older, something that had been watching long before they had stepped through the gate, something that had been biding its time for far longer than either of them had realized.

  Lea forced herself to breathe. She had faced men with knives, bargained with those who would kill her without hesitation, and spent years weaving through deals where one wrong move meant death, and yet this was different, this was beyond anything she had ever touched. This was not a deal to be made; this was a correction, a balance to be restored, a debt that had been waiting, uncollected, and now, at last, was coming due.

  Sandra's small fingers trembled where they curled into Lea's cloak, her grip tight enough to wrinkle the fabric, but she said nothing, only watched, her wide, hollowed eyes fixed on the robed figure, on the thing that stood before them like a judge weighing a final verdict.

  And then Gemini laughed.

  Not a loud laugh, not mocking, not cruel - just a soft, knowing exhalation, a sound of quiet amusement, of satisfaction, of something that belonged more to the market than to them, something that sent an immediate pulse of fear down Lea's spine, for Gemini was not afraid. She was pleased.

  A ripple ran through the cave, a shift that was felt rather than seen, a movement in the way the shadows twisted along the walls, in the way the air pressed against their skin, thick and sweet, in the way the vendors, the shoppers, the creatures that lurked just beyond the stalls all seemed to pause in unison, their attention focused not on the hooded figure, not on the market itself, but on Gemini.

  And then, without hesitation, without fear, without even the pretense of uncertainty, Gemini took a single step forward.

  "You don't understand," she murmured, her voice low, soft, steady, carrying through the room in a way that shouldn't have been possible, reaching into the corners of the cave, curling into the ears of those who shouldn't be able to hear.

  Lea's pulse quickened, her breath shallow, as Sandra's grip tightened, as if she could physically hold Gemini back by will alone, but Gemini didn't stop, didn't flinch, didn't acknowledge the fear curling in the space between them.

  "You don't choose me," she whispered, and the Market listened.

  "You never did."

  A murmur, soft at first, then rising, swept through the gathered figures, a wave of movement like breath passing through a corpse, the sound of something shifting in anticipation, in hunger, in readiness.

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  The robed figure stood still, silent, watching.

  Then, slowly, deliberately, he raised a hand to Gemini, not to Lea, not to Sandra, but to the farthest edge of the market, where something massive and ancient and wrong had been waiting, unnoticed, unseen, until now.

  A gate.

  It had been there all along, but Lea had not noticed it, had not registered its presence, had not realized that it was not made of stone or metal or wood, but of something darker, something colder, something woven from the very bones of the market itself. The iron bars curled inward like ribs buckling under pressure, the symbols carved into its surface shifting, twisting, spiraling in patterns that should not have been possible, as if they were alive as if they were listening.

  And then the figure spoke, its voice sliding through the cave-like oil, thick and layered, and too many voices at once. "Open it."

  Lea's stomach clenched. Sandra made a small, choked sound, barely audible, a sound that carried no words but spoke of understanding, of fear, of something deeply, deeply wrong.

  Lea turned, sharp and quick, and grabbed Gemini's wrist, fingers digging into flesh. "What have you done?" she hissed, deep, angry, dangerous.

  Gemini smiled slowly. "I gave them what they wanted."

  The market moved.

  The hooded figures, their forms hidden beneath layers of cloth and shadow, stepped forward, their hands raised in eerie unison, pressing against the iron gate. The metal groaned, bending outward with a sound like ribs cracking, splitting wider, pulling apart.

  Beyond it, nothing. No walls, no torches, no stone floor. Just endless, yawning blackness. But something was in there, waiting, and the market was afraid.

  The symbols on the gate twisted faster now, pulsing with something deep, something old, something awakening. A slow, deep exhalation rolled from the void beyond, carrying the scent of salt and decay, of something too long buried, something waiting to be fed.

  And then, behind them, from the cages, a sound. A wet, rasping breath. Lea turned.

  And there, in the farthest cage, huddled in the corner like a thing that no longer belonged, she saw him. Maddox. Her heart stopped. He was alive. But he was not the same.

  His body was hunched, his frame distorted, his limbs stretched into something almost human but not quite. His skin, smooth and too smooth, reflected the dim glow of the market's cursed lights, his fingers - God, his fingers - were longer than they should have been, the joints slightly off, bent in places that should never have been bent.

  But it was his mouth that made her stomach turn. Too wide. Too stretched. Like something had carved it open from the inside. But his eyes - still green. Still sharp.Still him. But they were hungry.

  Sandra stumbled back. "That's not him." Lea didn't move. Because it was. She was sure.

  Maddox moved too fast, lunging for the iron bars, slamming both hands against the metal with a sound that sent a ripple through the cavern, his back arching too sharply, his shoulders hunching too far. And then he laughed, and it was still his voice. But it was wrong.

  It was hollow, stretched too thin, filled with something that had never been his, something that had crawled inside his skin and made itself at home. The hooded figure turned, his voice a low, layered rasp. "This is not what was promised."

  And this time, when Gemini laughed, it wasn't amusement. It was permission. She lifted her chin, dark eyes shining.

  And then she let him go and the market broke.

  Maddox lunged. The iron cage buckled and split. The metal groaned as he stepped through, his body shifting, stretching, bones still deciding what shape they would take.

  The market reacted. But it was too late.

  The robed figures staggered back, whispering desperate prayers, the merchants scattering like rats. But there was no escape.

  For the market had waited.

  And now it was time to feed.