Sera knew the rules.

  She had learned them the hard way.

  The Pawn Shops of the Lost were not just places.

  They were cracks in the world, places where reality bent, where the weight of truth could be exchanged like currency.

  Where people wandered in one way and walked out another—if they walked out at all.

  Most never realized what had happened. That was the design. That was the trap.

  They left with less than they came with, but the world made sure they never noticed.

  It stitched over the wound. Smoothed out the gaps.

  They kept walking, unaware they were missing something fundamental.

  And Valen?

  He was not just a man.

  He was a Lie Seller.

  The best of them.

  He did not steal.

  He did not cheat.

  He simply gave people exactly what they asked for.

  And let them ruin themselves.

  Sera had seen it countless times.

  She had lived it.

  She had tried to break free.

  And she had spent every moment since paying the price.

  Because the Pawn Shops did not let things go.

  Not really.

  —

  But Elias shouldn’t be here.

  Not anymore.

  He should have been Lost.

  That was what happened when you gave too much.

  You faded. You stopped existing.

  You became part of the Lie itself.

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  The world rewrote itself around your absence until even the memory of you disappeared.

  But Elias kept coming back.

  Not the same.

  Not whole.

  But always him.

  Sera didn’t understand it.

  And neither did Valen.

  That was the one thing that unnerved him.

  Because the Lie Seller did not deal in uncertainties.

  He did not make mistakes.

  And yet, Elias returned.

  Every time.

  —

  She remembered his name.

  Not always, not at first.

  But over time, through the fragments of reality that still slipped through her grasp, Elias Cross always resurfaced.

  It wasn’t a conscious thing.

  Not a decision.

  More like a whisper that had been carried through the years.

  Sometimes he was a stranger.

  Sometimes he was a boy playing music on a street corner.

  Other times, he was already famous, already adored, a rising legend—before it all unraveled again.

  But it was always him.

  And he always fell.

  She didn’t remember the details.

  The Pawn Shops had taken too much for that.

  But she remembered the feeling.

  The weight in her chest when she saw him.

  The sense of something unfinished.

  Something broken, trying to be whole again.

  And no matter how many times she tried to ignore it, she was always drawn back to him.

  Watching.

  Waiting.

  And every time, he looked at her.

  Even if he didn’t understand why.

  —

  Most people who fell into the web never pulled themselves out again.

  They became part of the system. Another transaction. Another rewritten story.

  But Sera had clawed her way out.

  Not all the way.

  Not completely.

  The Lie Seller had taken her name.

  Had taken her past.

  Had taken more than she could remember.

  But he had not taken her.

  Not entirely.

  And because of that, she could still see through the threads of this reality.

  She could watch.

  She could remember, even if she didn’t know what she had lost.

  She could see the way the world bent around people who had made deals.

  And she could see Elias.

  Even when he wasn’t supposed to see her.

  —

  That was the part she didn’t understand.

  Elias shouldn’t see her.

  Not even in glimpses.

  Not even in the corner of his eye.

  She had watched countless people walk this road, and none of them had ever sensed her presence.

  But Elias did.

  Sometimes, when she moved too close, his head would turn.

  When she lingered too long, his eyes would flick toward a shadow that should have been empty.

  He never saw her fully.

  Never really knew she was there.

  But some part of him—**some part deeper than memory—**knew.

  And Sera didn’t know what that meant.

  She didn’t know what he was.

  Or why he was different.

  And that scared her more than anything.

  Because different never ended well.

  —

  The Pawn Shops operated by a simple truth:

  Reality was just a collection of agreements.

  A Lie, when accepted, became Truth.

  And Truth, if ignored long enough, became a Lie.

  That was the law Valen worked with.

  That was why the Pawn Shops were dangerous.

  Because they rewrote people.

  You traded away something—**a memory, a name, a reason for loving something—**and the world bent to accommodate it.

  Reality did not break.

  It adapted.

  It swallowed the loss whole and kept turning.

  And no one noticed.

  No one except those who had already fallen too deep.

  Like Sera.

  Like Elias.

  —

  But there was one other rule.

  One that even the Lie Sellers feared.

  The Pawn Breakers.

  They were the ones who tried to undo the deals.

  To unravel the lies.

  They were the ones who resisted the web.

  Who saw through it.

  Who didn’t just accept reality as it was handed to them.

  And that was why Valen watched Elias so closely.

  Why he had left the card.

  Why he was waiting.

  Because Elias had already made a deal.

  And if he started asking the wrong questions, if he started digging into what he had lost—

  He might become something dangerous.

  He might become a Pawn Breaker.

  And Sera knew exactly what Valen did to those.

  Because once—

  She had tried to be one, too.

  And she had paid for it.

  —

  She moved through the city, the edges of reality shifting around her as she followed his path.

  The closer she got, the more the weight of it settled into her bones.

  She should have left.

  She should have walked away.

  She had tried to help before.

  It had never ended well.

  Every version of him she had tried to save—

  They always fell.

  Every time she interfered, Valen had been ready.

  And every time, she had lost something.

  She wasn’t sure how much of herself was even left.

  And yet—she was still here.

  Watching.

  Thinking.

  Calculating.

  Should she act?

  Could she risk it?

  She had spent lifetimes avoiding this mistake.

  But then she thought of Elias.

  She thought of the way he kept turning toward her.

  The way he sensed her.

  The way he was different.

  And for the first time in a long time, she thought—

  What if it didn’t

  have to be the same?

  What if, this time, he didn’t fall?

  —

  She stopped.

  She had to reach him before Valen did.

  Before he made his next move.

  Before Elias started remembering.

  Because once he did, there would be no turning back.

  And Sera wasn’t sure if she was here to stop him—

  Or to help him burn it all down.