Each step across the field sends shockwaves through my bare feet. Sharp rocks puncture my soles while the morning-wet grass offers no relief – just another reminder of my ridiculous predicament.

  Aurora prowls ahead, her muscular form low to the ground as she scents the air. Her tail flicks with predatory focus, golden eyes scanning the terrain for any hint of danger.

  "This has to be some cosmic joke," I mutter, jerking back as a jagged stone slices into my heel. "Three pairs of shoes. Three! At this point, I'm taking it personally."

  "Perhaps you should watch where you're stepping instead of complaining," Aurora drawls, her ears twitching back toward me. "Though I must admit, your graceless stumbling is rather entertaining."

  Moira's form shifts beside me, her presence both comforting and distracting. "I could make you another pair of shadow shoes."

  "Yeah... about that," Kali says with a grimace. "Maybe we explore other options."

  Terrain analysis complete

  Multiple hazards detected

  Warning: Rock formation patterns suggest intentional hostile arrangement

  Vesper whirls around my head, her excitement manifesting in small void pockets beneath my feet. "Help Mama... feet safe! No more owie!"

  "I appreciate the effort, sweetheart," I say, stumbling as one of her void cushions launches me sideways. My ankle rolls, pain shooting up my leg as I barely catch myself. Aurora's massive form is suddenly there, her shoulder bracing against my fall. A low, protective growl rumbles from her chest as she steadies me.

  "Okay!" Vesper chirps, concentrating hard. "Make... less floaty-float!"

  The sun climbs higher, transforming our morning trek into an exercise in endurance. The grass, now brittle from heat, scratches against my raw soles. Each step becomes a careful dance between forward momentum and avoiding the ground's more aggressive features.

  "We could..." Moira starts, then stops herself.

  "What?" I ask, hissing as a thorny plant catches the arch of my foot.

  "Well, I could carry you. For a bit. If you wanted."

  My brain short-circuits, memories of our shared night in Mill Haven flooding back with startling clarity. "I'm fine!" My voice cracks embarrassingly. "Totally fine. These feet? Tough as nails. Practically indestructible. Who needs shoes anyway? They're just foot prisons if you think about it."

  Aurora's amused purr cuts through my rambling. "Your pride will be the death of you, little one."

  Aurora's ears flick back as she lets out a low warning growl. Her golden eyes narrow as she speaks, her voice carrying both sass and concern: "Your heart rate is spiking, your steps are uneven, and you're being more stubborn than a cat in a rainstorm. Stop being ridiculous and let Moira help before you shred what's left of your feet."

  "Mommy being... silly again," Vesper pipes up with her characteristic innocence. "Heart go fast-fast... but no want help. Why, Mommy?"

  "Vesper," I warn, feeling my face heat up. "What did we say about private observations?"

  "But true!" she insists, bouncing on her toes. "When Moira here, heart go zoom and—"

  "Look!" I interrupt desperately, pointing ahead. "Is that... um... an interesting rock formation? We should definitely investigate that. From a distance. Away from this conversation."

  Moira's laugh rings clear and bright through the air. "You know, for someone who regularly faces down reality-bending horrors, you have an interesting definition of what's worth being scared of."

  "I'm not scared," I mutter, then yelp as I step on what feels like a handful of razor-sharp rocks. "Just... maintaining healthy boundaries. And dignity. Lots of dignity."

  The sun beats down mercilessly, turning the gentle morning into a sweltering afternoon. My feet, now intimately familiar with every jagged stone in a fifty-mile radius, have gone from complaining to outright rebellion. Each step feels like walking on broken glass.

  "You know," Moira says casually, "dignity is overrated. Especially when it comes with blisters."

  I open my mouth to argue, but my next step lands on a particularly vicious rock. The undignified squeak that escapes me effectively undermines any attempt at maintaining my stoic facade.

  Aurora circles around me protectively, her tail lashing with irritation. "Your stubbornness is going to get you hurt worse than you already are. Stop being a hero and accept help."

  "Fine," I sigh, admitting defeat. "But if anyone asks, I was gravely wounded in battle. Against, I don't know, a shoe-eating demon or something."

  "Of course," Moira agrees solemnly, though her eyes dance with amusement. "A fearsome beast indeed. Very dangerous. Known for its particular taste in footwear and its ability to sense pride."

  Before I can change my mind, she scoops me up with effortless grace. Being held by Moira is like being cradled by twilight itself – warm, secure, and carrying the faint scent of vanilla. Aurora pads alongside us, her protective presence never wavering as she scans our surroundings for threats.

  "Not. One. Word. FRIDAY."

  Vesper spins happy circles around us, trailing stardust in her wake. "Mama and stars... fit perfect! Like puzzle... all done!"

  "Vesper, sweetie," I manage, trying to maintain some semblance of composure while being literally carried by a creature that moves with the grace of a lioness, "remember what we said about inside thoughts?"

  "But making... outside pretty!" she protests with childlike innocence. "Mama face... all pink-pink!"

  Aurora's amber eyes gleam with amusement as she rumbles out a low purr. "Your little one's not wrong. You're blushing quite spectacularly."

  As we continue our journey, me trying very hard to act casual about being carried by Moira while Vesper provides running commentary on my "zoom-zoom heart," I can't help but wonder if the universe's vendetta against my shoes might have an ulterior motive after all.

  Not that I'll ever admit it. I have some dignity left.

  The universe, apparently satisfied with its footwear-related mischief, decides to throw us another curveball – though this one turns out significantly more pleasant than the last. The sound of bells and cheerful voices drifts across the field, accompanied by the creaking of well-oiled wagon wheels.

  "Trading caravan," Moira says, finally setting me down (I absolutely do not feel disappointed about this). "Quite fortunate, actually. They often carry supplies for travelers."

  "Including shoes?" I ask hopefully, doing my best impression of someone who isn't missing being carried.

  Aurora's ears prick forward as she scans the approaching caravan, her powerful form tensing slightly. "They seem harmless enough. And yes, they have shoes," she adds with a hint of sass. "Though I must say, watching you try to walk barefoot has been rather entertaining."

  Moira's light dims as she catches my eye. "Before we encounter these travelers - we need to be careful about certain... details. Your status as a Princess of the summer court and your sovereign powers, must remain secret. There are those who would use such information... poorly."

  Aurora's muscles ripple as she moves closer, her protective instincts clearly visible in the way she positions herself between us and the approaching caravan. "These merchant types love to gossip almost as much as they love to trade," she warns, her voice low and serious. "One wrong word, and your status could be compromised. That's not a risk we can afford to take."

  "Right," I mutter. "Just a normal group of travelers. Nothing special to see here. No lost princesses or cosmic beings..."

  "Exactly," Moira nods. "The fewer who know about your true identity, the safer our journey to the Twilight Markets will be."

  The caravan appears over the hill like a wandering festival – wagons painted in swirling patterns that catch the sun, merchants dressed in a riot of colors, and the gentle music of tinkling bells carried on the breeze.

  The most striking thing is my own reaction. For the first time since we started this journey, I don't immediately tense up at the sight of approaching travelers.

  "They seem... normal," I say, feeling almost let down. "Like, actually normal. Not 'we're going to try to make you join our perfect dance routine' normal."

  "Mama no scared!" Vesper claps her tiny hands. "Mama brave now!"

  Aurora rumbles a low, protective growl beside me, her golden eyes scanning the approaching group. I scratch behind her ears, and she lets out a satisfied purr, though she keeps her watchful gaze on the newcomers.

  The caravan leader, a robust woman with laugh lines around her eyes and silver streaks in her dark hair, pulls her wagon to a stop near us. "Well met, travelers! I'm Captain Sara of the Wandering Market." Her eyes drift to my bare feet, and her expression turns motherly. "Oh dear, you look like you could use some shoes."

  "That obvious?" I wiggle my toes in the dirt, trying not to wince at their tenderness.

  "What happened to your shoes?" she asks, her eyes twinkling with curiosity.

  "Lost them. Long story." I shrug, and Aurora bumps her head against my hip in a comforting gesture.

  "Well, you've found the right people. We've got all sorts of footwear. Can't have you walking around barefoot on these roads."

  Moira's form shimmers as she steps forward, her presence casting ethereal shadows.

  Captain Sara's eyes brighten. "What a wonderful coincidence! That's our destination as well. Why don't you join our caravan? Safety in numbers, and we've got plenty of shoes to choose from."

  "I don't know..." I hesitate, old fears dying hard. Aurora's tail twitches, but she doesn't growl – a good sign.

  "Mama!" Vesper tugs at my sleeve. "Nice lady got shoes! No more ouchies for feet!"

  "Your little one makes a good point," Captain Sara laughs. "And it looks like you could use a break from carrying your friend there," she adds with a knowing wink at Moira.

  My cheeks flush hot. "She wasn't – I mean, we weren't – there were thorns, and—"

  "Want shoes now!" Vesper interrupts, mercifully saving me from my stammering. "Mama feet hurt lots and lots!"

  The next few hours pass in a blur of laughter and stories. The caravan proves to be exactly what it appears – a traveling market of genuinely friendly merchants. No hidden agendas, no schemes, just people making their way through the worlds one trade at a time.

  I stretch out near the wagons, my tail flicking lazily as I keep watch. Even in these peaceful moments, my protective instincts never fully rest. A low purr rumbles in my chest as I observe Vesper creating tiny void bubbles to play with.

  The captain notices too. "Is that void manipulation? Fascinating!" She turns to me, eyes bright with curiosity. "Would your friend mind showing us some of her powers? We rarely get to see such talents up close."

  Vesper bounces on her toes. "Me make pretty! Me show!"

  "Just... maybe keep it small?" I stand, muscles tensing instinctively. "Remember what happened last time you got excited? With... well, everything?"

  "Just make fun sparkles!" She pats my muzzle with her tiny hand. "Promise-promise!"

  What follows can only be described as a void magic variety show gone hilariously wrong. Vesper, in her enthusiasm to impress, accidentally turns one merchant's hat into a portal to what appears to be a dimension of eternal hat parties. Another's scarf briefly gains consciousness and starts telling knock-knock jokes in five different languages.

  I prowl the edges of the gathering, ready to pounce at the first sign of trouble. But the merchants, far from being terrified, are delighted. They clap and cheer as Vesper creates increasingly elaborate (if somewhat chaotic) light shows with her void bubbles. Even when she accidentally makes one wagon's wheels skip through three different realities – causing it to briefly drive on the ceiling of existence – everyone treats it like the best entertainment they've had in months.

  "Your daughter," Captain Sara wheezes through tears of laughter as Vesper makes a set of teacups dance the macarena, "is absolutely wonderful."

  A pleased growl rumbles in my throat. The best part? I finally get new shoes – sturdy boots that the merchants assure me are "reality-slip resistant." They even throw in a spare pair, "just in case the universe gets ideas again."

  As the sun sets and we gather around the caravan's campfire, sharing stories and watching Vesper make the flames dance in impossible colors, my vigilance eases slightly. My ears still swivel at every sound, but I allow myself to relax against a wagon wheel, Vesper tucked safely against my side.

  "See?" Moira murmurs, her light mixing with the firelight. "Not everything beautiful is trying to kill us."

  "Don't jinx it," I mutter, though my tail wraps protectively around Vesper. "We've still got a long way to the Twilight Markets."

  "Mama happy!" Vesper announces to everyone, creating tiny firework-like explosions of void energy above the fire. "Heart all warm-warm, like big hugs!"

  "Inside thoughts, sweetie," I remind her, but I can't bring myself to be truly embarrassed. Not when everything feels so... right.

  Of course, that's when one of my new boots starts humming a suspiciously familiar dance tune. But that's a problem for tomorrow.

  Aurora stretches lazily, her massive form casting a protective shadow over Vesper. "Come, little one," she rumbles, her voice carrying that familiar mix of affection and sass. "Let's see what trouble- I mean, games the other children are playing. Though this time, no void portals during hide and seek."

  "But... but last time was fun!" Vesper protests, her words coming out in excited bursts. "Made purple swirls... pretty!"

  "No portals," Aurora growls softly, though there's warmth in her tone as she nudges Vesper gently with her nose. "We don't want another incident like the sandbox situation."

  As Vesper bounces away with Aurora padding protectively beside her, tiny sparkles of void energy trail in their wake. I find myself alone with Moira near the edge of the camp. The morning sun catches in her cosmic essence, making my heart do that annoying flutter thing it's been doing lately.

  This narrative has been unlawfully taken from Royal Road. If you see it on Amazon, please report it.

  "So..." I start, then immediately forget what I was going to say when she turns those otherworldly eyes toward me.

  Based on my extensive analysis of romantic comedies, this is the part where you're supposed to say something meaningful about your feelings

  Though perhaps avoid the common trope of running away in the rain – we're in a drought-prone area

  "Not helping, FRIDAY," I mutter, but Moira laughs, the sound warm and genuine.

  "FRIDAY has been watching too many Hallmark movies," Moira says, settling beside me on a fallen log. "Though I must admit, they're not entirely wrong about some things."

  "Oh?" I manage, suddenly very interested in my new boots. "Like what?"

  "Like how sometimes the scariest monsters aren't the ones trying to eat you," she says softly. "Sometimes they're the feelings you're trying to outrun."

  "I'm not outrunning anything," I protest weakly. "I'm just... tactically retreating from emotional complexity."

  According to 'Love Actually' and seventeen other romantic sources, this is called 'being in denial.'

  Though I should note that none of those movies involved cosmic beings or void-manipulating adopted daughters

  "FRIDAY," I groan, "please stop using rom-coms as relationship guidance."

  "She's not entirely wrong though," Moira says, her light pulsing gently. "About the denial part, not the rom-com advice."

  The silence stretches between us, comfortable but charged with something I'm not quite ready to name.

  The firelight catches in Moira's cosmic essence, and for a moment, I see something in those star-filled eyes that makes me forget how to breathe. It's not just beauty – though there's plenty of that – it's understanding. Recognition. As if she sees past all my carefully constructed walls and accepts every broken, beautiful piece of who I am. And maybe that's what scares me most of all.

  A soft growl rumbles from the corner where Aurora lounges, her golden eyes fixed on us with amused interest. "You both dance around each other like skittish prey," she drawls, tail flicking lazily against the floor.

  "Not helping," I mutter, but her presence is oddly reassuring.

  "You know," Moira finally says, "for someone who regularly faces down reality-bending horrors and manages a child who can accidentally create portals to hat dimensions, you're remarkably hesitant about simpler things."

  "Simpler?" I laugh. "There's nothing simple about... this." My hand sweeps through the air, encompassing the strange, charged space that separates us. "You're literally woven from starlight and cosmic wonder, and I'm just...."

  "Just what?" Moira interrupts, her voice surprisingly fierce. "Just the woman who adopted a void being out of pure love? Just the person who faces every challenge with determination and wit? Just the one who makes my very being pulse brighter every time you smile?"

  Aurora rises and pads over, her massive form moving with predatory grace. "My human sells herself short," she says, bumping her head against my hip with enough force to make me stumble. "Always has."

  "You're my mentor," I point out, trying to deflect while steadying myself. "Not even a week ago, I was sitting in your kitchen, eating those incredible cookies, thinking how nice it was to have this... I don't know, this grandmother figure in my life. And now..." I gesture helplessly at the space between us.

  Moira's light ripples with something that might be amusement. "You're not as young as you think you are, remember?" She reminds me, "you are closer to 400 than 26, you only remember the last 26 years."

  "That's..." I start to argue, then pause. She's right, in a way. The woman who sat in that kitchen, nervously nibbling perfect chocolate chip cookies while trying to understand her new powers, feels like a stranger now. "Still doesn't make this less complicated."

  "When has anything in your life been simple?" Moira asks softly. "You adopted a void child, befriended a protective guardian who'd tear reality apart to keep you safe, and regularly bend reality before breakfast. Maybe complicated is exactly what you need."

  Your heart rate has increased by 15% during this conversation

  Might I suggest taking a breath? Humans tend to forget that part during emotional revelations

  Though I must note this would make excellent reality TV content

  I open my mouth to respond, but before I can, Vesper's delighted shriek cuts through the air, followed by the sound of several merchants laughing. We both turn to see her bouncing on her toes, hands outstretched.

  "Me make pretties! Look, look!" she calls out, her words tumbling together as tiny void butterflies dance around the children.

  "We should probably..." I start.

  "Yeah," Moira agrees, but neither of us moves immediately.

  "For what it's worth," I say quietly, "your light makes my heart pulse brighter too."

  Your romantic endeavors are surprisingly effective, despite lacking standard cinematic elements

  Though I maintain a sudden rainstorm would add that perfect dramatic flair

  Just saying

  Aurora, who had been lounging nearby, lifts her head and lets out an amused rumble. "You two are adorable," she purrs, her tail swishing lazily against the ground. "Though FRIDAY's not wrong about the rain."

  As night yields to dawn, the caravan's cheerful atmosphere dims like a candle burning low. The merchants' laughter fades to whispers, their eyes darting between shadows. Even the painted wagons seem to lose their vibrancy. The air grows heavy with tension, making Aurora's ears twitch as she paces the perimeter of our group, her protective instincts on high alert.

  The warm glow of contentment from our evening with the caravan traders evaporates like morning dew. Captain Sara calls everyone together, her earlier warmth replaced by steel. The merchants form a loose circle, their colorful clothes now seeming as muted as their expressions.

  "Listen closely, everyone," Sara begins, her voice sharp with warning. "We're less than a day from the Twilight Markets now, and some of you are still green to their ways." Her gaze cuts across the newer merchants before landing on our group. "The markets have rules – ancient ones. Breaking them..." she lets the threat hang in the air.

  Moira shifts beside me. "The captain's right. There's no one who understands the markets better than those who work there."

  "The first and most important rule," Sara continues, her voice barely above a whisper, "is that all trades must be fair. The markets have their own understanding of value, and they enforce it... strictly. I've seen people try to cheat the system." She shakes her head slowly. "It never ends well."

  A younger merchant raises his hand tentatively. "But how do we know what's fair?"

  Sara's laugh holds no humor. "The markets will let you know. Trust me on that. Just be grateful we're not in the old days – I once saw someone try to trade a pair of dancing shoes for merchant's firstborn child." She catches my eye meaningfully. "The markets... corrected that imbalance."

  I glance down at my new boots, still humming that suspicious dance tune, and make a mental note to be extremely careful about any trades involving footwear.

  "The markets exist in the space between day and night," Sara explains, gesturing to the lightening sky. "They operate on their own logic, their own rules of reality. What seems valuable in the outside world might be worthless there, and what appears trivial could be worth kingdoms."

  "Markets scary-fun!" Vesper chirps in my ear, bouncing on her toes. "Like void... but got price tags!"

  "That's... actually a pretty good description, sweetie," I mutter back, watching as Aurora circles our group protectively.

  Sara continues her briefing, each rule more intricate than the last. No stealing (the markets consider theft a form of unbalanced trade), no trying to haggle with time itself (apparently that's a common rookie mistake), and absolutely no attempting to trade concepts you don't fully own.

  "The markets have eyes," Sara continues, her voice dropping to barely above a whisper. "Not the kind you can see – the kind that see through you. They watch every exchange, every promise, every breath of intention." She pauses, shoulders tense. "I once saw a merchant try to cross his fingers behind his back during a deal." A visible shudder runs through her. "The markets didn't appreciate the deception. Last I heard, he's still trying to figure out which way is up in a dimension where directions are traded like currency."

  Aurora's hackles rise, a low rumble building in her chest. "I don't like this place," she says, golden eyes narrowing as she scans the shadows. "Too many rules that bend reality. Too many ways for things to go wrong."

  Initiating market protocol analysis

  Warning: All verbal contracts are binding and permanent in this environment

  Precise language use is mandatory for safety

  Standard assistance protocols not recommended

  Extreme caution advised in all interactions

  "What do you mean?" I ask, watching as Vesper attempts to organize her dimensional pockets for optimal snack storage.

  Moira explains, "Words have power in the market, more than most places. A casual 'I'd die for that' could become a binding contract."

  Market Protocol Initializing...

  Warning: Verbal contracts binding

  Note: Word choice critical

  Additional note: No good deed goes unpunished

  Market Rules:

  1. Never say "thank you" - implies debt

  2. Avoid terms like "owe" or "promise"

  3. Do not accept gifts

  4. Do not offer help, even in emergencies

  Market Protocol Analysis:

  - Fae merchants extremely literal

  - Saving lives creates life debts

  - All verbal contracts binding

  - Word choice critical

  Critical Guidelines:

  5. Never reveal true names

  6. All prices must be explicitly stated

  7. No unsupervised reality manipulation

  Historical Incident Report:

  - 3 dimensional collapses

  - 2 time paradoxes

  - 1 very confused merchant still speaking backwards

  Current Market Assessment:

  - Temporal vendors (prone to paradox)

  - Reality merchants (questionable stability)

  - Concept traders (Vesper's preferred snack providers)

  Security Recommendations:

  - Establish clear shopping boundaries

  - Monitor subject's risk-taking behavior

  - Maintain constant threat assessment

  As our caravan winds its way toward the Twilight Markets, I can't help but feel a surge of optimism. After all, we've just spent several days traveling with perfectly normal merchants who haven't tried to steal my soul, trap me in an eternal dance, or turn me into various magical creatures. Maybe I'm finally getting the hang of this whole fae realm thing.

  "You're thinking dangerous thoughts," Moira observes, her light dimming with concern.

  "What? No, I'm just appreciating how not everything here is trying to kill us. I mean, look at these lovely merchants! Completely normal. Well, except for that incident with Vesper's void butterflies turning that one wagon into a temporary butterfly dimension, but they thought that was charming!"

  Aurora, who had been prowling the perimeter of our wagon, pauses to fix me with a golden-eyed stare. "Every time you say things like that," she says, her tail twitching in irritation, "the universe takes it as a personal challenge."

  Analysis indicates classic pre-disaster behavioral patterns

  Subject's optimism correlates with 89% probability of imminent complications

  Recommendation: Stop tempting fate immediately

  "Mama being silly-brave again," Vesper announces, her small hands creating tiny void sparkles that spell out 'DANGER COMING' before quickly dissolving them when I give her a look. "Me just... help warn!"

  The caravan begins to slow as we approach what looks like a shimmering curtain of twilight suspended between reality and... something else. Aurora's muscles tense, her ears flattening against her head as she positions herself between us and the barrier. The fur along her spine rises, and a low warning growl rumbles in her chest.

  Captain Sara makes her way back to our wagon, the cheerful jingling of her bells at odds with her grave expression. Aurora's tail lashes once, twice, as she tracks the captain's movement, her protective instincts clearly on high alert.

  "The barrier ahead," Sara says, her voice barely above a whisper, "it's not just a doorway to the markets. It's a threshold. A contract. Once we cross it, we're bound by market law until we leave – assuming we can figure out how to leave." She pauses, watching as the twilight curtain ripples like water in a midnight pool. "Last chance to turn back."

  "No going back!" Vesper declares, bouncing in place. "Want void snacks!"

  Aurora sighs, a surprisingly human sound. "Of course you do, little one. Just try not to trade away anything important for them this time."

  "Last chance for reminders," Sara says, eyeing us carefully. "Remember: no promises, no thanks, no true names, and absolutely no commenting on how surprisingly peaceful everything seems." She gives me a pointed look at that last one.

  "That's oddly specific," I mutter.

  Aurora's ears twitch forward, her tail curling with amusement. "She's clearly met others like you before," she says, bumping her head against my hip. "The ones who tempt fate."

  "Trust me," Sara continues, "I've seen too many first-timers walk in saying 'Oh, this isn't so bad' only to end up accidentally trading their sense of direction for a cup of never-ending tea."

  "That doesn't sound so—"

  "They're still walking in circles in the outer markets," she interrupts. "The tea wasn't even good."

  Detecting dangerous thought patterns

  Recommendation: Do not finish that sentence

  Historical data suggests imminent chaos

  The closer we get to the markets, the more our new merchant friends change. Gone are the easy smiles and casual jokes. Even the most seasoned traders check their contracts obsessively, muttering phrases like "exact wording" and "fair exchange" under their breath. I catch one of them practicing how to say "perhaps" instead of "yes" – apparently, even simple agreements can be binding here.

  Aurora paces restlessly beside our wagon, her muscles taut with tension. Her golden eyes narrow as she scans the shimmering barrier, nostrils flaring. "The magic here tastes wrong," she growls. "Like time gone sour."

  "Me feels it too!" Vesper bounces excitedly in her void bubble, creating tiny sparkles that look suspiciously like price tags. "Going shopping... void style! Make good... trades-trades!"

  "Remember what we talked about," I warn her, trying to ignore how Aurora's unease is making my skin prickle. "No trading pieces of the void without asking, and absolutely no creating discount dimensions like last time."

  "But was... good deal!" she protests, her hands creating little void-price tags. "Got pretty... sparkly rock!"

  "Sweetie, you accidentally created a dimension where everything was 50% off. Reality had a clearance sale for three days."

  Market Incident Analysis:

  Status: Processing

  Anomaly Count: 17

  Severity: High

  Primary Issue: One (1) cosmic accountant experiencing mathematical crisis

  Note: Numbers refusing to behave appropriately

  Immediate Directives:

  - Implement strict financial controls

  - Non-dimensional currency ONLY

  - Previous dimensional currency resulted in mathematical paradoxes

  Risk Assessment:

  - Probability of repeat incident: 89%

  - Subject's optimism correlates with increased chaos

  - Void-based transactions strictly prohibited

  Aurora lets out a long-suffering sigh. "At least the accountant recovered eventually," she says, giving Vesper an indulgent look. "Though I hear he still breaks out in hives whenever someone mentions discount portals."

  The shimmering barrier looms closer, and Aurora's growl deepens, her muscles coiled tight as a spring. She weaves between our legs, fur bristling along her spine. "I don't like this," she rumbles. "The magic here... it's hungry."

  Warning: Market boundary approaching

  Detecting multiple reality fluctuations

  Recommendation: Brace for dimensional shift

  Note: Previous crossing resulted in three cases of temporary time-blindness

  "Mama! Look-look!" Vesper tugs at my sleeve, pointing at the barrier where shadows dance like liquid night. "Market wants... to eat us! But nice eating, promise!"

  "That's not as reassuring as you think it is, sweetie."

  As we pass through the barrier, reality buckles and warps around us. My stomach lurches as up becomes sideways, then diagonal, then something that doesn't have a proper name. Aurora snarls, her claws digging into the wagon's floor as she positions herself protectively around Vesper and me. The world bleeds like watercolors in rain, and when it finally settles, the Twilight Markets sprawl before us in all their impossible glory.

  That's when I realize exactly how wrong I was about things being simple.

  Because sometimes, the most dangerous places aren't the ones that threaten to kill you outright – they're the ones that smile and offer you a bargain you can't refuse. The ones that know exactly what you want and what you're willing to pay for it.

  "Pretty-dangerous!" Vesper claps her hands in delight, creating one last void bubble that spells out 'HERE WE GO!' before it pops into a shower of sparkles. Aurora's ears flick back at the sound, but her eyes never stop scanning the crowds, tracking every movement with predatory focus.

  Market analysis complete

  Threat level: Exponential

  Primary concerns:

  - Reality stability compromised

  - Multiple temporal anomalies detected

  - High probability of contractual entanglement

  Recommendation: Maintain constant vigilance

  "Stay close," Aurora murmurs, her tail lashing as she eyes a merchant whose smile seems to float slightly ahead of his face. "And whatever you do, don't stare at the bargains. They stare back."

  I glance down at my new boots, praying they don't choose this moment to break into their mysterious dance routine. In the Twilight Markets, I suspect even a simple soft-shoe could become a binding contract – and I'm not ready to find out what the price might be for an encore.