Soren quickly changed the subject, rising from his seat with a smooth, almost theatrical grace. He began pacing leisurely around his shop, his hands clasped behind his back, as though he hadn’t just dropped the most significant revelation of the day. His voice carried a lightness that felt almost mocking, but his veiled gaze hinted at an unspoken depth.

  “You’re already in my shop,” he said, his tone casual, as if they were discussing something as mundane as the weather. “So why not browse? Customers are always welcome here.”

  The abrupt shift left the group momentarily stunned, the tension in the room lingering like a charged stormcloud. Caelus narrowed his eyes slightly, his jaw tightening as he exchanged glances with Magnus, who merely sighed. Riven raised an eyebrow, crossing her arms but smirking all the same.

  “Is this your way of distracting us?” she asked, her tone laced with amusement.

  “Not at all,” Soren replied smoothly, gesturing to the rows of shelves filled with strange and exotic artifacts. “Think of it as... an intermission. Even champions need a reprieve before diving headfirst into their next perilous adventure.”

  Without waiting for their approval, Soren drifted deeper into his shop, his movements graceful and soundless, like a shadow slipping between the cracks of the dimly lit space. His presence seemed to blend seamlessly with the enigmatic atmosphere, leaving the group to their own devices.

  Lorian, unable to resist the pull of curiosity, found his gaze drawn once more to the bottle he had noticed earlier. The faint, flickering light within pulsed softly, almost like the rhythm of a tiny heartbeat, casting delicate glimmers across the dusty shelf. His steps were tentative, and as he neared, his wide brown eyes brimmed with wonder.

  Cheese stirred from its spot nestled against Lorian’s chest, its soft, gelatinous body shifting slightly. A small, translucent limb stretched forth, reaching toward the bottle. Lorian’s fingers hesitated, hovering just shy of the cool glass as if fearing he might disturb the fragile glow inside.

  The light within the bottle reacted instantly. It darted erratically, its golden radiance flaring brighter in sharp, frantic movements. It was as if it could sense the presence of the curious slime.

  Cheese, undeterred by the reaction, extended its tendril further. The limb shimmered faintly in the warm glow of the shop, its surface rippling with soft, undulating movements. The delicate appendage brushed against the glass with a feather-light touch.

  The reaction was immediate. The light inside flared like a burst of sunlight breaking through stormy clouds, its brilliance illuminating the shelf in a dazzling display. It flickered and danced, bouncing frantically within the confines of the bottle, as though startled by the contact.

  Lorian’s breath hitched, a mixture of awe and apprehension freezing him in place. He glanced at Cheese, whose form seemed to hum with faint excitement, its soft glow matching the flickering rhythm of the trapped light.

  “What... are you?” Lorian murmured softly, his voice barely audible, more to himself than anyone else. The sheer liveliness of the light, its desperate movements, felt almost alive—like a heart that had been caged for far too long.

  The moment felt suspended in time, a fragile connection forming between the boy, the slime, and the mysterious light within the bottle.

  “Careful, Cheese,” Lorian whispered, his voice trembling with a mix of fascination and unease. His gaze never left the glowing bottle, the light inside flickering in a mesmerizing dance that seemed almost alive. Cheese wobbled slightly in response, its tiny tendril still brushing against the glass, the faintest ripple of curiosity emanating from the slime’s form.

  Before either could react, a shadow loomed behind them.

  “What do we have here?” Soren murmured, his voice sending a chill down Lorian’s spine.

  Lorian yelped, spinning around to find Soren standing mere inches away, silent as a ghost. His sudden appearance made Lorian stumble. His back collided with the shelf behind him, the impact setting off a precarious symphony of clinking glass and shifting trinkets.

  Cheese retreated into Lorian’s chest with a startled wiggle, its usual boldness vanishing under the weight of Soren’s silent presence.

  A soft gasp escaped Lorian as the bottle tipped forward, teetering on the edge of the shelf. Time seemed to slow, the warm, flickering glow inside the glass spinning in chaotic arcs as it began its descent.

  Lorian lunged instinctively, his small hands reaching out in desperation. But Soren moved first.

  The vampire’s hand darted out, his movements so quick and precise they seemed almost unnatural. With a fluid grace, he caught the bottle mid-fall, his slender fingers closing around the glass as if it had never left the shelf.

  Soren straightened, turning the bottle over in his hands with an air of casual intrigue. The light inside flared and flickered wildly, its golden brilliance illuminating his veiled face as if in protest of its capture.

  “You’re lucky this didn’t shatter,” Soren remarked, his tone calm but carrying an undercurrent of admonishment. His voice wrapped around the words like smoke, curling through the air in a way that felt both soothing and unsettling.

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  He tilted the bottle slightly, examining the light within as though it were a rare gem. A faint smile tugged at the corner of his lips, barely visible beneath the shadow of his veil. “Do you even know what you’ve been toying with, little one?”

  Lorian shook his head, his voice caught somewhere between apology and awe. “I—I just thought it looked... interesting.”

  Soren’s gaze flicked to the boy, and though his eyes were obscured, the weight of his scrutiny was palpable. “Interesting, indeed,” he murmured. “You’ve stumbled upon something quite rare. This,” he continued, holding up the bottle so the flickering light cast eerie shadows on the surrounding shelves, “is no mere trinket. It’s a fairy in a bottle.”

  The words hung in the air, heavy with significance.

  “A... fairy?” Lorian echoed, his voice soft with wonder.

  “Bound, trapped, and sold for those with the coin,” Soren confirmed, his tone as detached as if he were discussing the weather. “A commodity, valuable to the right buyer. But for me, it’s little more than a curiosity.”

  Cheese let out a soft, inquisitive squeak, its gelatinous body leaning forward as if drawn to the mysterious bottle’s golden light. The flickering glow danced across the smooth surface of the glass, casting a warm, ethereal sheen that seemed to pulse in rhythm with the boy’s quickened breaths.

  “I have no use for it,” Soren said, his voice low and unhurried, smooth as a silken thread unraveling in the dim space. “But just for you, little one, I’ll part with it—for free.”

  Lorian blinked, his wide brown eyes darting between the bottle and Soren’s veiled face. Suspicion flickered across his youthful features, mingling with awe. “You’re not... tricking me, are you?” he asked cautiously, his small voice betraying his uncertainty.

  Soren’s lips curved into a faint smile, the shadows of the shop sharpening the edges of his enigmatic expression. He crouched slightly, his black robes pooling like smoke around him as he brought himself to Lorian’s eye level. His voice dropped to a conspiratorial whisper, laced with an almost soothing cadence. “I never tell lies, my child. The bottle is safe, I assure you.”

  Cheese wobbled in Lorian’s chest, the slime turning its entire body toward him in what could only be described as silent communication. Then, with a comically exaggerated nod, Cheese seemed to give its approval.

  Lorian hesitated, his fingers twitching near the strap of his bag. His gaze lingered on Soren’s shrouded face, searching for any hint of deception beneath the veil. Finally, he offered a small, hesitant bow, his slender frame trembling slightly under the weight of the moment. “Thank you, mister,” he murmured, his voice almost a whisper.

  Soren inclined his head, the faint motion exuding an air of regal composure. The subtle smile on his lips widened just enough to reveal the tips of his sharp fangs, a fleeting glimpse of danger masked by his measured grace. “You’re welcome,” he said, his tone carrying an odd warmth that contrasted with his imposing presence.

  With great care, Lorian unfastened his bag and opened it, the leather creaking softly in the stillness. His hands moved delicately, reverently, as he nestled the bottle inside, cradling it as if it were the most fragile and precious treasure in the world. The light within the bottle pulsed gently, as though acknowledging its new caretaker.

  Soren straightened, the bells on his wide-brimmed hat jingling faintly with the movement. The sound was almost melodic, a curious counterpoint to the silence that surrounded him. He adjusted his robes, his gloved hands brushing against the fabric with a practiced ease.

  “Take good care of it,” he said, his voice carrying a subtle undertone of authority, like a parent issuing a final piece of advice. “Fairies are delicate beings, and their moods... can be unpredictable.”

  Lorian’s head bobbed eagerly, his small hands clutching his bag tightly to his chest. “I will, I promise.” he said, his youthful determination shining through.

  Without another word, Soren turned, his black robes swirling faintly as he moved. His figure seemed to blend effortlessly with the dim surroundings, his steps silent and purposeful. Yet, for a moment, he paused, glancing back over his shoulder. The golden light from the bottle reflected faintly off his veil, casting an almost otherworldly glow across the sharp lines of his features.

  “Enjoy your little treasure,” he added softly, his tone tinged with amusement, before disappearing deeper into the labyrinth of his shop.

  Lorian stood frozen for a moment, his chest rising and falling as he clutched the bag close. Beside him, Cheese let out a soft, triumphant burble, as if pleased with the turn of events. Together, they shared a glance, Lorian’s wide-eyed wonder meeting Cheese’s oddly expressive wobble.

  Elira’s attention was drawn to a gauntlet resting on a nearby shelf, its surface wrought from blackened steel that seemed to drink in the dim light of the shop. Intricate runes spiraled across the metal, their faint glow pulsing with an almost hypnotic rhythm. The craftsmanship was otherworldly, as though it had been forged in a place where mortal hands dared not tread.

  Her amber eyes narrowed as she reached out, fingertips brushing against the cool, unyielding surface. A subtle thrum of energy coursed through her touch, not enough to be alarming but enough to hint at the gauntlet’s latent power. She traced one of the runes, feeling its texture—raised and slightly warm, like a brand imbued with a faint, living pulse.

  “What does this do?” Elira asked, her voice carrying a note of intrigue as she turned to glance over her shoulder.

  She nearly started when she found Soren standing beside her, his appearance as silent and sudden as a shadow slipping into place. His veil shrouded his features, but there was an undeniable presence to him, like a wisp of smoke curling closer.

  “It channels raw energy,” Soren said, his voice low and velvety, a sound that felt like it could seep into one’s bones. His gloved hand hovered just above the gauntlet, though he made no move to touch it. “But it does not come without a price. The more you draw from its power, the more it drains from your very essence—your lifeforce. It’s a tool of immense potency... and relentless hunger.”

  Elira’s lips pressed into a thin line as she turned her gaze back to the artifact. Her fingers stilled on its surface, the weight of Soren’s words sinking in. For a moment, she stood there, caught between curiosity and caution, her mind racing with the possibilities and the risks.

  “Powerful,” she murmured, her voice edged with a mix of awe and wariness, “but not forgiving.”

  With a soft exhale, she carefully placed the gauntlet back on the shelf, ensuring it rested exactly as she’d found it. Its runes flickered faintly in response, as if disappointed to be left untouched once more.

  “Figures,” she muttered, crossing her arms as she stepped back, her amber eyes lingering on the gauntlet for a heartbeat longer before turning away.

  Soren watched her with an inscrutable expression, the faint jingling of his hat’s bells the only sound accompanying the moment. “Wise,” he remarked softly, his tone carrying the faintest hint of approval. “Few would recognize its true cost before it was too late.”

  Elira arched a brow at him but said nothing, the corner of her mouth twitching in what could have been either a smirk or a grimace. She wasn’t sure whether his words were a compliment or a veiled warning, but she knew better than to ask.