The masochists

The bidding climbed higher, voices echoing off the ancient walls of the Bazaar. The pendant rested on a velvet cushion at the auctioneer's side, glowing faintly under the candlelight. Elara could feel it calling to her, an undeniable pull beneath her skin. It wasn't just a relic—it was alive.

"Twenty thousand," Darius Vale announced smoothly, barely lifting his fingers.

Murmurs rippled through the crowd. Whoever this man was, he had influence.

Elara gritted her teeth. Waiting isn't an option.

She slipped through the crowd, shadows trailing her every move. A hand on her wrist stopped her—Rael. His crimson eyes locked onto hers. "You're improvising."

Elara smirked. "Always."

Before he could argue, she moved.

The Bazaar's energy shifted the moment she acted. A flick of her wrist sent a tendril of darkness snaking toward the stage, dimming the lights just enough to create a momentary distraction. Gasps rang out as shadows thickened, and in that instant, Elara lunged.

She hit the stage with feline grace, snatching the pendant in one swift motion. The second her fingers closed around it, a surge of power flooded her veins, her tattoos burning with recognition.

But she wasn't the only one moving.

Darius Vale was already out of his seat, his form blurring as he closed the distance. His hand wrapped around her wrist, cold and strong.

"Clever," he murmured, his grip like iron. "But not enough."

Elara barely had time to react before the floor beneath them cracked, the entire chamber trembling. The Bazaar erupted into chaos, and in that moment, she realized something chilling.

The pendant wasn't just reacting to her.

It was awakening.

The shadows of the Bazaar deepened, stretching unnaturally as a surge of unseen energy pulsed through the chamber. The pendant in Elara's hand burned against her palm, its silver surface alive with shifting symbols that hadn't been there before.

Darius held her wrist tight, his golden eyes flickering with something unreadable. "Let it go."

Elara narrowed her eyes. "Not a chance."

A low hum resonated through the air, growing in intensity. The onlookers who had once been eager for a show now scrambled backward, sensing the wrongness in the atmosphere. The masked auctioneer stepped away from the stage, their voice rising above the chaos. "Enough! That artifact is bound! Do you have any idea what you're meddling with?!"

Darius didn't look away from Elara. "Yes. And so does she."

Rael was suddenly beside her, his blade drawn. "If we're doing this, we need to move."

Elara reacted before Darius could tighten his grip, shadows bursting from her free hand like tendrils. They coiled around his arm, forcing him to release her. She didn't hesitate—she pivoted, kicking off the stage as the pendant pulsed violently in her hand.

Darius recovered almost instantly, his own power rippling through the air. A sigil flared beneath his feet, golden symbols forming a barrier between him and the darkness Elara had unleashed. He wasn't just some collector. He was something more.

Elara didn't have time to figure out what.

A deafening crack split the air. The stone ceiling above them fractured, and in the next breath, a black force tore through the chamber like a living storm. The Bazaar erupted into complete chaos.

People screamed as stalls were overturned, the very foundation of the underground market groaning beneath the weight of something immense. The shadows thickened into unnatural tendrils, writhing like they had minds of their own. The pendant wasn't just reacting—it was summoning something.

Rael's voice was sharp. "Elara!"

She turned just in time to see one of the robed figures from the crowd raise a hand. A spear of violet energy shot toward her. She twisted, barely dodging as the blast shattered the stage where she had just stood.

More figures stepped forward, their masks featureless, their bodies moving with eerie precision. They weren't here for the auction.

They were here for her.

Darius cursed under his breath. "You woke it up. They felt it."

Elara didn't hesitate. She ran.

Rael was already clearing a path, his blade flashing through the masked attackers like a shadow slicing through light. Elara followed, her grip tightening on the pendant as she focused on their escape.

Darius was right behind them, his movements too calculated to be accidental. He wasn't just fleeing—he was tracking her.

Elara turned sharply down a corridor, her mind racing. This wasn't just about stealing a relic. The pendant was something else—something powerful. And I just made myself its keeper.

The realization sent a thrill down her spine. She didn't just have a weapon.

She had something worth fighting for.

And now, the entire underworld wanted it back.