Three days after leaving the Bone Road, the desert changed again.
Not gradually.
Not subtly.
One morning I woke up expecting more red dunes.
More wind.
More silence.
Instead, I found myself standing in the middle of a marketplace.
Deep Red ended so suddenly it felt almost suspicious.
The endless emptiness gave way to color.
Noise.
Movement.
Life.
The Mirage Market.
The name sounded poetic enough that I assumed it was exaggerated.
Unfortunately, it was accurate.
The market truly appears and disappears.
Like a mirage.
Like a story people invented after spending too long beneath the desert sun.
The oasis itself was enormous.
Shallow.
Wide.
Almost lake-like.
When the water recedes, a vast stretch of damp ground emerges from beneath it.
And on that temporary land—
a city is born.
Hundreds of tents.
Perhaps more.
Bright red.
Golden yellow.
Turquoise blue.
Emerald green.
After weeks surrounded by nothing but red sand and pale bones, the colors felt almost aggressive.
The tents circled the remaining water like petals around the center of a flower.
People moved everywhere.
Merchants.
Travelers.
Hunters.
Caravan guards.
Nomads.
Pilgrims.
The air itself felt crowded.
Voices overlapped endlessly.
Different languages.
Different accents.
Different arguments.
Somewhere nearby, someone was playing a flute.
Elsewhere a drum answered.
The sound of bargaining rose and fell like waves.
After Deep Red's silence, it felt strangely overwhelming.
Comfortably overwhelming.
Like returning to civilization after forgetting what civilization sounds like.
The smell was even worse.
Or better.
Smoke.
Spices.
Animal leather.
Fresh bread.
Sweat.
Dust.
Cooking oil.
And beneath everything—
water.
Not much.
Not enough.
But present.
I had not realized how much I missed the smell of water until that moment.
Naturally, Ryn immediately ruined the experience.
"Do not buy anything."
That was the first thing she said after entering the market.
Then she repeated it.
Several times.
Apparently Mirage Market has a reputation.
A terrible one.
According to Ryn, every merchant here is either a scammer, related to a scammer, trained by a scammer, or aspiring to become a better scammer.
She informed us that if we truly needed something, we should wait until reaching Vaultreach.
This warning was directed primarily toward Spathian.
And secondarily toward me.
I found that mildly insulting.
Then I remembered Grimhaven.
Fair enough.
For several hours everything went well.
Then Spathian discovered a spoon merchant.
I should have seen this coming.
The man had an entire table covered with spoons.
Long spoons.
Short spoons.
Foldable spoons.
Spiral spoons.
Spoons with holes.
Spoons shaped like flowers.
Spoons shaped like fish.
One spoon appeared to have absolutely no practical function whatsoever.
Naturally, Spathian became fascinated immediately.
Several minutes later he returned carrying three extremely unusual spoons.
Several moments after that, Ryn learned how much they cost.
The argument began almost instantly.
"You were robbed."
"I was not."
"You absolutely were."
"I understand value."
"No."
Ryn pointed dramatically toward the spoons.
"You purchased decorative metal sticks."
"They are not decorative."
"They are spoons."
"They are exceptional spoons."
Ryn closed her eyes.
The way people do when attempting not to commit crimes.
"Spathian."
"Yes?"
"You are the eldest child of House Roderick."
"Correct."
"You should understand basic trade."
"I do."
"Then explain this purchase."
Spathian held up one of the spoons proudly.
"The curvature is interesting."
There was a long silence.
Then Ryn confiscated most of his travel funds.
For his own protection.
Spathian described this as financial oppression.
Ryn described it as preventive damage control.
Personally, I remained uninvolved.
Mostly.
Because unlike Spathian, I had successfully hidden my own purchase beforehand.
A coin.
An artifact.
Supposedly.
The merchant claimed it brought good fortune.
The coin itself looked ancient.
Dark metal.
Strange markings.
A pleasant weight.
Most importantly—
it cost significantly less than the spoons.
Which made it a completely reasonable purchase.
At least that was my professional assessment.
I wisely chose not to inform Ryn.
Several hours later, after dinner, everyone settled down for the evening.
The market slowly quieted.
The music became distant.
Lanterns flickered across the oasis.
I was lying inside the tent examining the coin when something unexpected happened.
The metal became warm.
Not hot.
Just warm.
Then—
very briefly—
it seemed to glow.
A faint golden light.
Barely visible.
For one glorious moment I felt entirely vindicated.
I knew it.
An artifact.
A real artifact.
A lucky coin.
Immediately I woke Ryn.
This was a mistake.
"Ryn."
No response.
"Ryn."
A groan.
"Ryn, my coin is glowing."
One eye opened.
Then the other.
There was a long silence.
"Your what?"
"My coin."
"The coin you definitely did not buy after I explicitly told you not to buy anything?"
"..."
I considered several possible answers.
Unfortunately all of them were bad.
Eventually Ryn sat up and inspected the coin.
Very carefully.
Very professionally.
Very skeptically.
Nothing happened.
The glow vanished completely
The warmth disappeared.
The coin became an ordinary piece of metal.
I tried again.
Nothing.
I shook it slightly.
Nothing.
I stared at it.
Nothing.
Ryn stared at me.
That was somehow worse.
"I saw it glow."
"I'm sure you did."
"It became warm."
"I'm sure it did."
"It was magical."
"Of course."
The conversation deteriorated rapidly afterward.
The final result was predictable.
My remaining spending money was confiscated.
For my own protection.
Apparently I am now considered a financial risk.
Which feels unfair.
Especially because the coin absolutely glowed.
I am almost certain of it.
Possibly.
Maybe.
The coin is currently sitting beside this journal.
Silent.
Cold.
Completely ordinary.
Ryn claims this proves I was scammed.
I maintain that the artifact simply chose not to perform while being observed.
She claims that explanation sounds exactly like something a scam victim would say.
Unfortunately...
I do not currently possess enough money to continue defending my position effectively.
Tomorrow we leave for Vaultreach.
The market will disappear once the water returns.
The tents will vanish.
The merchants will move on.
The laughter will fade.
Only the oasis will remain.
And perhaps—
if it feels cooperative—
my lucky coin.
Which definitely glowed.
Probably.
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