Rohini stood before the tall mirror of her room, her reflection quiet and waiting. She didn't shed the green robe-rather, she closed her eyes and let the shift ripple through her body. Threads obeyed thought,silk receding and reforming, weaving itself into something new. Dark fabric folded into a collared button up, ash black and embroidered with quiet Zinari sigils at the cuffs, The hem settled just above the black slacks, the heels already part of her silhouette. The strings pulled along her neck-gentle, deliberate- twining into a soft ribbon that tied itself at her throat. As it settled, it brushed the faint shimmer of scales hidden along her collarbone, cool beneath her skin.
She looked at herself in the mirror before she crossed the room in a few measured steps, reaching the wand resting on her obsidian night stand. It was older than her-slender,dark, and etched with carvings that pulsed faintly when her fingers closed around it. The wood thrummed with a memory, a relic passed down from a time where names had held power, and bloodlines were spells in themselves.
Beside it, her pendant waited-a simple silver snake suspended on a chain of black thread.It wasn't flashy, but when she clasped it around her neck, the weight felt grounding. It pulsed once, in term with her heartbeat.
The air shifted.
One breath she was in her room.
The next, light bent differently-warmer,louder.
Sunreach Hollow greeted her like a canary-bright with movement and color. Market stalls spilt into the narrow streets, the hum of chatter overlapped itself, some in tongues not meant for Hallowborns ears. Spices perfumed the air, from food vendors or plant stalls. Somewhere the low thrum of drums led to a corner tavern painted in sun-worn gold.
Children darted between vendors. Cloaks flashed, coin purses jingled, people who had laughed too loud. Everything shimmered like a festival that was always on the verge of beginning.
But beneath the color, the Hollow pulsed with older rhythms. The shadows along brick walls didn't quite dance the same as the crowd. A cat stood too still beneath a cart,eyes unblinking. One alley breathed cold, even under the sun.
Rohini's steps didn't falter.
She belonged to both parts of the town-the warmth and the warning.
She moved through the crowd with practiced grace, untouched by the jostling bodies and tangled voices. People parted for her without realizing why or that they did at all- a flicker of unease or a whisper of instinct
Rohini turned down a narrow path, away from the open sun and into the older part of the Hollow, where the buildings leaned a little too close together and time felt like it moved slower,
The shop didn't have a name. It never needed one,
Tucked between a shuttered window apothecary and a crumbled bookstore, its door was carved with a spiraling script that shifted if stared at too long,The window showed very little- only the glint of something metallic and a tangle of smoke drifting behind the glass.
She pushed open the door.
It didn't creak, but the air inside changed. The scent of ash,parchment, and something warm greeted her. The light inside was dim, filtered through veils of incense and dust that didn't settle.The vague sound of rhythmic speaking out of earshot.
Objects lined the shelves in quiet chaos- bone pendants,cracked mirror, and various scrolls sealed with wax that pulsed softly like hearts,
A soft hiss curled from somewhere deep in the shop.
Rohini trailed her fingers along a dust covered shelf cluttered with charms and tarnished rings, eyes half-lidded in interest. Trinkets That's all she'd told herself she was after. Something small. Meaningless. A whim.
From behind the counter, a voice emerged like smoke, dry and velvet-edged.
"Looking for anything in particular, miss?"
Rohini didn't glance up.
"Just browsing."
The words hadn't fully left her lips before it came again.
A hiss, Not threatening. Not loud. But precise-like silk through teeth.
Her spine didn't stiffen, but her attention sharpened. She turned slightly toward the source, a shadowed corner where the lantern's light bent strangely.
"I wasn't speaking to you" She murmured under her breath-yet she didn't move away
Another hiss-this one shaped, almost syllabic.
Her hand drifted away toward a tray of old coins, but her eyes stayed locked on the darkness curly behind a set of hanging herbs.
"Do you have a name?" she asked softly, voice low,.
The clerk tensed.
Rohini didn't miss it- the shift in weight behind the counter. Her hand slid causally to the wand's holster hidden beneath her coat. She didn't draw. Yet.
The snake hissed again,clearer this time a word unfolded like a ribbon of smoke.
"Umbraja"
Rohini responded.
The sound she made wasn't english.It wasn't any common tongue. It was low,soft-sibilant. It belonged to something older. The snake perked up instantly, tongue flickering,body unwinding in interest.
The clerk's wand was fully in her grasp now, aimed just under the counter, and Rohini's eyes flicked towards it once, unimpressed.
Then–
The soft,rhythmic hum of chanting stopped.
The airshifted once more. Incense curled in the sudden stillness as an old man stepped from behind the veil of the back room. His robes were heavy with embroidered patterns that had seemed to move when you didn't look directly at themHe said nothing at first-only watched.
The silence tightened.
Then in Zinari, his voice cut clean through the room. Calm. Certain.
"Lower you wand women. She is no threat to us."
The clerk froze in shock.
The old man stepped forward,gaze fixed on Rohini with a weight she recognized-ancestry,recognition,something older than blood.
Rohini replied in kind, her voice smooth in the language of her culture.
"I expected more subtlety from her, especially in a shop of such old magic"
A beat passed. Then the man chuckled, his breath catching like dry leaves in the increased haze.
"It's not everyday I meet another Zinari-Norn."
He gave her a half smile.
"You've got your mother tongue's accent."
He turned slightly to towards the clerk
"Leave us, unless you'd like to keep pretending you understand our language. "
The snake gave a dry rasp that sounded suspiciously like a laugh as the women left.