"Some things find you when you stop looking."
The Cairo bazaar was louder in the evening. Lanterns swayed from strings overhead, casting gold and red shadows on the cobbled walkways. Musicians played haunting tunes on instruments I didn't recognize, and the scent of roasted spices filled the air like smoke.
But we weren't here to eat. Not this time.
Alice led us with sharp eyes and steady steps, weaving through the crowds like she'd been here before. Maybe she had. Maybe she remembered more than she ever let on.
"Magic clings to certain things," she said as we passed rows of painted vases and silver trinkets. "It hides in plain sight, waits for the right hands to touch it."
James raised an eyebrow. "Like cursed antiques?"
She didn't smile. "Like tools that know their purpose."
We followed her until the noise thinned. At the far end of the market stood a faded, crumbling archway with no signs or lights. Just a shadowed entrance barely wider than a closet door.
It shouldn't have been there. I was sure of it.
Alice ducked inside.
We hesitated.
Then followed.
The room inside smelled of paper and earth. Candles flickered in long rows, illuminating shelves lined with cracked books, broken clocks, and objects that didn't make sense. A compass with no needle. A feather floating in a jar of ink. A mirror with no reflection.
An old man emerged from the back room. Skin like wrinkled parchment, his eyes completely white — blind, but somehow… seeing. He didn't speak. Just nodded.
Alice stepped forward and placed three coins on the counter. They looked older than time. Silver. Worn down smooth.
The man nodded again, then pointed toward the shelves.
"Choose carefully," Alice said, turning to us. "Only one each. They'll know you."
We scattered.
I didn't know what I was looking for.
But then something pulled at me — a faint pressure at my ribs, like gravity tilting sideways. My hand reached before I even saw what it was.
A small mirror. Oval. Framed in black bone. It didn't show me. Not exactly. Instead, it showed flickers — moments I didn't remember, or maybe ones I hadn't lived yet. In one flash, I was older, standing before the Pyramid with a bloody crown in my hands. In another, I was on my knees, screaming. In another, I was smiling. Peaceful.
I grabbed it and held on.
James came back with a chain — plain, dull metal — but when he touched it, his eyes widened. "It, uh… tightens when I lie," he muttered.
Arisa chose a ring. Thin, with a single red gem that seemed to move. She slipped it on and instantly flinched. "It just whispered something," she said, eyes wide. "It said, 'Not again.'"
Alice didn't pick anything. The old man bowed to her.
We walked out without another word.
The sun had dropped low, and now, the horizon burned red.
Above us, the moon had begun to rise.
But it wasn't white.
It was deep, blood-red — like rust and fire and memory all at once.
I could feel the crown pieces vibrating in my pack.
"This is it," Alice said.
No more pretending.
We were out of time.