“Serel, what do you think about this one?” Vera asked, turning a bone carving of a horse in her hand. She ran her thumb over its ridged flank, glancing at the other figurines spread across the stall.

  Serel squinted at the horse, her face scrunching in thought before she shook her head. “Howlie’s cooler!”

  “Huh. I suppose I can’t argue with that.”

  Vera set the horse back, ignoring the seller’s mildly sour look as she turned to study the other booths down the row.

  That probably meant anything animal-shaped was out. Fair. If Vera had grown up with something like the Echoshade Howler lurking in her shadow, she wouldn’t have given carved critters much thought either. Hard competition to beat.

  But she had promised gifts. And she wasn’t about to break her word.

  “Mommy, look.” Serel tugged at her hand, pointing across the lane. A stall there displayed all manner of writing and art supplies—brushes bound with twine, slim jars of powdered pigments, sticks of chalk and charcoal, bundles of quills, and more.

  Vera eyed the stall, then looked down at Serel. “…Did that catch your eye?”

  A flicker of hesitation crossed the girl’s face, like she wasn’t sure herself. Even so, Vera led her toward the stall.

  The owner—a woman wrapped in layered shawls—smiled warmly as they approached, bowing her head slightly. “Welcome, dears. Do you see anything you fancy?”

  “Maybe,” Vera said. Her gaze lingered on the neat rows of supplies before dropping to Serel, who was studying a small linen-wrapped kit. Its flap was folded back just enough to reveal a pair of reed pens, a stylus and wax tablet, and a slim sheaf of parchment. The girl’s fingers moved faintly, as though silently counting each piece.

  After a moment, she looked up. “Mommy… can I have that?”

  “Sure. Of course.”

  Serel’s eyes went wide. “Really?”

  “I said I’d get you some things, didn’t I?”

  “But…” She pointed at the kit, brows furrowed. “There’s five… six things? One, two, three—”

  Vera paused, then laughed. “No, that still counts as one. It’s a kit. Wouldn’t be much use if it only came with a single pen, would it?”

  Serel blinked a few times, then broke into a large smile. She hugged Vera’s waist tightly before returning to beam at the kit.

  The stall owner’s smile deepened, eyes softening. “Such a sweet little one.”

  “Mm. To the point it’s dangerous,” Vera said. “I can tell you that. How much, by the way?”

  “Five gold and three silver.”

  Vera arched a brow. “Pricey, isn’t it?” She pulled out her coin pouch anyway, counting five gold and three silvers, each etched with the crest of a still hand.

  That much would buy you several weeks of food and lodging. And the kit, while nice, didn’t exactly look like top-end craftsmanship.

  “A sign of the times, I’m afraid.” The woman sighed. “Troubled days bring troubled trade. With the edict, wares like these are rare in Marrowfen. Trust this old lady—you won’t find better prices anywhere in the city.”

  “Edict?” Vera frowned. “Edict against what?”

  The woman gave her a curious look. “Against all imports and exports of Resonance-reactive goods. Food and common wares are fine, but anything that carries Resonance is banned by decree of the Boneward Council. To prevent unstable Echo-forms—they say such things have been spreading from the Graven Reach and the Dimming Hollow.”

  “What?” Vera’s brow knitted tighter. “Echo-forms are still a problem?”

  She thought that had been mostly dealt with after the Chainfather Ascendant’s fall. And the Graven Reach and Dimming Hollow weren’t anywhere near the Crucible of Echoes, so it made even less sense for that corruption to spread to those zones. If anything, hadn’t the Graven Reach already fallen to the Unraveling of The Silence Between? That’s what Caldrin told her, anyway.

  “Are you sure about that?” she asked.

  The stall owner only shrugged. “I’m simply repeating the decree.”

  “…Alright.” Vera pointed to the linen-wrapped kit. “But these don’t have a speck of Resonance in them. Why are their prices affected?”

  The woman snorted. “Because few merchants bother hauling plain goods all the way here alone. These are usually traded alongside sigil-tools and Resonance-works. When those traders stopped coming, so did many of the rest. You’ll find that very little news has made it to the city the past year. Just enough to know the continent hasn’t fallen to another tribulation quite yet—though not for lack of trying.”

  Her tone turned more somber. “I heard about three seasons past that Gloamhaven fell to this latest one. Sleeper in Gray remember their souls.”

  Gloamhaven had fallen? That was bad news for Vera if she ever wanted to reach Gloamsdeep Hollow for the Rite of Stillness, to try and contact the old gods of House Hollow.

  Though given the threat this new antagonist should pose, it wasn’t exactly surprising.

  What struck her more was Marrowfen’s council barring all Resonance-linked trade under the pretense of stopping Echo-forms. Echo corruption could spread to enchanted items, sure, but cutting off everything? That seemed excessive. Especially when this latest threat wasn’t even an Echo god, as far as she knew.

  “Then… have you heard anything about those who fought the earlier tribulations?” she asked. “Like Veralyth Mournvale.”

  The stall owner’s eyes flicked to Vera’s hands—to the sigil-scars etched there.

  The narrative has been stolen; if detected on Amazon, report the infringement.

  The matron at The Bleeding Chalice had warned her that some people carried suspicion toward those of House Hollow. Still, Vera doubted this woman was among those. After all, she’d just invoked the Sleeper in Gray, which was an aspect of the Hollow.

  A few beats passed before the stall owner tipped her head toward the kit Serel had picked out. “Were you buying that for the sweet little one?”

  Vera nodded. “Yes.”

  “Then give me a moment.” The woman unfolded the linen, checking the contents with steady, practiced hands. “As for your question…” She tucked parchment and pens neatly together. “I’ve not heard much of the Ashborn Ascendant in at least two years. There were whispers she fell in Graven Reach… but I’ve also heard she’s simply missing, or retired somewhere quiet.”

  “What about CinderCtrl? Mireya Halstrad? Elaria Valecrest?”

  The owner shot her a brief look. “Been to the Marked Monument, have you?” She shrugged. “The answer’s much the same. For all the talk of the Marked Ones, not much word of them reaches Marrowfen. Every so often we hear a tale of the Flamebearer taking up some battle against the tribulation, and there are always rumors of the others… but I wouldn’t put much stock in those, if I were you.”

  Vera’s thoughtful silence earned a knowing chuckle from the woman. She finished retying the linen bundle and held it out with one hand, the other extended palm-up.

  It took Vera a second to realize she was waiting for the payment. She slipped the coins into her hand and accepted the kit in return.

  The stall owner smiled. “If those are the sorts of questions on your mind, I’d point you toward the Hollowstone Table. More up your alley there—and I hear they serve a decent ale.” Her gaze dropped to Serel. “And something sweet a child can drink, too.”

  Vera hummed under her breath. That might not be a bad idea. She’d already considered the Hollowstone Table, though she wasn’t sure it was the best place to bring Serel. It also seemed exactly the sort of spot where someone might recognize her.

  Still… if that’s where the answers were, it might be worth finding a workaround. Maybe a disguise. She remembered barbers in the game could change hairstyle, color, and even tweak minor features. If that existed here, maybe she could cobble together something close to a disguise.

  She thanked the stall owner—as did Serel, copying her—and the two of them slipped back into the flow of the market. As they walked, Vera loosened the string on the linen bundle to peek inside. There were reed pens, a wax tablet and stylus, parchment sheets, a few vials of ink sealed with wax, a bundle of charcoal sticks, and a little pouch. She opened the pouch to find a fine white powder. She frowned before realizing it was probably pounce. If she remembered correctly, it was used to dry fresh ink on parchment. She’d never handled the stuff herself, but she remembered reading about it back in uni.

  At her side, Serel’s eager eyes tracked her every move. Vera smiled faintly, then rewrapped most of the kit and tucked it into her satchel, keeping only the tablet and stylus in hand.

  “Know how to use this?” she asked.

  Serel shook her head.

  “Here, let me show you.”

  It wasn’t entirely new to her—Vera had used one once in an art history elective.

  She steered Serel toward the edge of a quieter stall, then raised the stylus and etched a thin line across the wax tablet’s surface. Flipping the stylus, she used the flat scraper on the opposite end to smooth the wax and ‘erase’ the mark. It was harder than it looked, but nothing a bit of force didn’t solve.

  “You can use it for notes or doodles. Then just smooth it out and start over.” She turned the stylus back and sketched a simple wolf, curling wisps rising from its back. The lines weren’t clean, not compared to pen and paper, but she thought it came out decent enough.

  “Wow!” Serel gasped, staring down at it. “It’s Howlie!”

  “That’s right.”

  The girl looked up, brimming with wonder. “Mommy, you’re amazing!”

  “Well, I don’t know about that…” Vera lingered on the doodle. She hadn’t drawn in more than three years. Strange that her first sketch since then was on wax, of all things.

  Eventually she handed the tablet over. “Try resetting it. Draw something of your own.”

  Serel accepted the tablet with both hands, then the stylus, fumbling to find a comfortable grip. Her brows drew together, faint lines forming at the corners of her eyes as she bit her lower lip. “…But I don’t want Howlie to go.”

  Vera let out a short laugh. “I don’t think he’ll mind.”

  Serel peeked up at her. “But you made him.”

  That made Vera fall silent. She studied the girl for a while, then rested a hand on her head. “I can always make another. But if you don’t want to erase him, you can draw around him instead. Add flowers, or grass, or maybe a forest for him to run through.”

  Serel’s face lit up. She turned back to the tablet and began scratching the stylus eagerly. Vera had to bite back another laugh when the girl’s first attempt ended up as little more than a shaky squiggle across the wax.

  On second thought, a wax tablet probably wasn’t the best medium for a beginner. The charcoal and parchment would’ve been much easier.

  To Serel’s credit, she didn’t give up. She hunched over further in concentration, trying to scratch out something resembling a flower beside the wolf. In the end, though, the poor creature was left standing in just a tangle of wild lines rather than a meadow, but Serel only pouted at the result instead of discarding it.

  Vera patted her head. “We’ll try again later, okay? Somewhere quieter. I’ll show you a few tricks.”

  Serel’s pout lingered, but she handed back the tablet and stylus. Vera tucked them into her satchel, and together they drifted through the stalls. She let her ears wander, listening for snippets of conversations, occasionally slipping questions to sellers like she had at the first stall.

  She learned a little—though far less than she’d hoped. As the first stall owner had implied, Marrowfen felt cut off from the rest of the continent.

  Most news came secondhand, carried by traders stubborn enough to still make the trip. The city had always been fairly insular, and though its alchemical and tannin exports were important, the Boneward Council had apparently managed to keep enough coin flowing to appease the merchants. Many of the locals Vera spoke with hadn’t left the city in years.

  She did find one stall owner who was a woodworker from Karthvale, the closest city to Marrowfen. He spoke with her in a lower voice, careful that the other stalls didn’t overhear. Many of his associates, he said, had been too impacted by upheavals in the continent’s center to risk the journey this far out. Others avoided Marrowfen entirely because of the edict. Most outsiders agreed that the decree was strange, since almost no other cities had imposed anything similar.

  When Vera asked him about the unstable Echo-forms, he admitted he hadn’t heard of a single case in the past year. To him, the Boneward Council’s decree was nothing more than paranoia.

  She also asked about Elaria Valecrest and the other names etched on the monument. He could tell her that Elaria—and perhaps a couple of the others—had probably been alive when he’d last been in Karthvale four months earlier. But even there, his tone suggested that rumors muddled a lot of the details.

  Hopefully she’d be able to confirm more if she visited the Hollowstone Table.

  Before leaving the market, Vera asked Serel if anything else had caught her eye. The girl pointed at a small bone carving of a wolf, which surprised Vera, considering how unimpressed she’d been with the horse figurine earlier.

  But when Vera went to buy it and the seller quoted six silver as the cost, Serel frowned. She spent a long half-minute counting on her fingers—something Vera thought was impressive for her age, though she wasn’t entirely sure—before seeming to realize just how expensive the art kit had been in comparison. Her face tightened, and she abruptly refused to let Vera buy her anything else. Not even the wolf.

  Vera didn’t really understand what was going through the girl’s head. Serel would have grown up in an estate filled with excess, never needing to think about coin. Vera had also told her plainly they were rich. As far as she knew, the girl had never been exposed to concepts like thrift or frugality. So it seemed very strange to Vera that Serel was suddenly so opposed to receiving another gift, and even seemed hesitant about the one she’d already received.

  Vera wanted to buy the wolf anyway, to show it wasn’t a problem. But without knowing what was truly behind Serel’s reaction, she worried forcing the gift might only upset her. And the girl didn’t share much when asked. So she let it go, and they left the market without another purchase.

  A faint awkwardness lingered after that, but it melted the moment Serel spotted another building carved entirely from bone. Her eyes lit up again as she tugged at Vera’s arm, pointing eagerly and chattering about how amazing it looked. Soon enough, the tension was gone, replaced by wonder as they wandered through Marrowfen.