The morning sun draped its golden light over the sleepy village, casting long shadows from the wooden cottages and the ancient chapel that sat at the heart of the clearing. Khal sat quietly on the stone steps of the chapel, his fox companion curled up beside him, half-asleep.

  The stillness was broken by a low rumble coming from the dirt road that wound through the village like a lazy serpent. Khal’s gaze lifted, curious despite himself.

  At the edge of the trees, a cart came into view, wobbling as its creaky wooden wheels struggled over the uneven path. The driver was a wiry man who looked like he had been chased by every bad decision imaginable—and lost spectacularly every time.

  His socks, however, were impossible to ignore.

  One sock was a bright electric blue; the other, a wild orange embroidered with little white stars that glittered faintly in the sun.

  Khal blinked.

  The cart screeched to a halt in the village square, sending a small cloud of dust swirling through the air. The merchant hopped down with the agility of a fox, jingling rings on his fingers and flashing a grin that didn’t quite reach his eyes.

  “Good morrow, fine people of this fair village!” the man called out, his voice theatrical enough to suggest he’d once been a bard or a circus performer. “I come bearing gifts from far-off lands—treasures and trinkets the likes of which you have never seen!”

  The villagers gathered cautiously, some eyeing him like a strange bird that might suddenly turn aggressive.

  Khal watched, the fox at his feet suddenly alert, sniffing the air.

  The merchant began unpacking his goods: a wooden crate spilled over with vibrant scarves that looked too fine to be real, a box of strange tools with curious shapes and shiny metal, and dozens of small glass bottles filled with liquids swirling in mesmerizing colors—deep violet, fiery red, and glowing green.

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  Khal’s fingers itched to reach out and touch, but he held back, wary.

  Lira appeared silently beside him, her arms folded tight, a smirk playing on her lips.

  “Another distraction,” she said, voice dripping with skepticism.

  The merchant caught her gaze and winked. “Distraction? Nay! Opportunity! Adventure! Possibility!”

  Khal could almost believe it, if only for a moment.

  Then the cart lurched, and a small wooden chicken tumbled out, landing with a soft thud at Khal’s feet. The fox immediately sniffed it and gave a suspicious bark.

  “Ah!” the merchant exclaimed, scooping it up. “This is no ordinary chicken, my friend. This wooden wonder is said to bring good luck to its owner—warding off misfortune and inviting fortune!”

  Khal raised an eyebrow, but the fox was eyeing the chicken like it might suddenly hatch.

  “Good luck?” Khal asked slowly. “Like, it’ll help you avoid falling flat on your face?”

  “Exactly!” the merchant said with a grin. “In this world, a little luck can mean the difference between glory and disaster.”

  Lira snorted softly. “I’ll take my chances without a wooden chicken.”

  The merchant laughed heartily, the sound surprisingly warm.

  “Suit yourself! But I have something for everyone. Healing salves, enchanted trinkets, even a few rare spices from the eastern deserts that will set your tongue ablaze!”

  He turned back to Khal, lowering his voice as if sharing a secret.

  “And for you, young man,” he said, “I have something very special.”

  Khal felt his heart skip. Special? In this place, that could mean anything from a sword that never dulls to a cursed amulet that ruins your day.

  The merchant pulled a small velvet pouch from his coat and handed it over. Khal opened it slowly, eyes wide.

  Inside was a tiny amulet, glowing faintly with an inner light that pulsed like a heartbeat.

  “This,” the merchant whispered, “is a charm to protect you from harm. It has kept travelers safe from beasts and bandits alike.”

  Khal clutched the amulet, the weight of it both reassuring and strange.

  Suddenly, a shrill scream pierced the calm.

  Everyone’s heads turned toward the edge of the square, where a small boy was running toward the cart, waving wildly.

  “Thief! The amulet! Someone’s stolen it!”

  The merchant’s face paled for the first time.

  Without hesitation, Khal’s fox sprang forward, barking fiercely.

  And before Khal could think, he was already chasing after the fleeing boy, the amulet’s glow flickering faintly in his pocket.

  Branches whipped at his face. His heart hammered in his chest.

  For the first time, Khal felt something stir deep inside—a spark of purpose.