“Please,” I beg, ignoring both the balaclava and the obvious reluctance. Behind me, a seagull shrieked bloody murder over the turbulent ocean, swooping so low that a splash of spray soaked its wing. The dock market was thronged with people, smelling faintly of rotting fish, but what was strange was that no noise came from them, none at all. All I could hear was the raging sea, and my own hyperventilation.

“What are you willing to pay?” The voice was velvety, and it sounded rich, luxurious and vaguely feline, as odd as that may sound. The gloved hands held the tiny, corked bottle at both ends, filling me with anxiety that it would slip and smash. And then all would be for nothing.

“For her life?” I asked, somewhat incredulously. I’d have thought the answer was simple. She was on her deathbed, was probably passed away already while I’d been gone, but it didn’t matter, as long as I could get this to her before the time was up. “Anything,”

The dark eyes behind the balaclava flashed bright silver as a clap of thunder preceded the lightning strike out at sea. The merchant’s eyes followed it with something akin to menace. “I see,” The face covering was all of a sudden ripped off and I found a girl, much younger than I’d originally assumed; maybe nineteen? Still, she towered over me, as I cowered on the floor, silenced by surprise. Her long hair, falling from her concealing bun, was a gorgeous dark red, like darkened coral. “Well, then, here’s your price,” she whispered.

“Tell me your story,”