Mir Custa Tiro Souk

  Noun

  Translation: Coin Toss Baazar

  Definition: "Mir Custa Tiro Souk" is an enigmatic establishment whose function remains a closely guarded secret, known only to those who venture within.

  Cultural/Contextual Background: Wrapped in urban legends, the "Mir Custa Tiro Souk" is reputed to possess the magical ability to vanish and reappear in different locations. Stories circulate of it appearing overnight in bustling city centers or remote villages, only to disappear without a trace days later. The establishment is whispered to be a hub for the forbitten magic—Alchemy.

  A meeting place for secretive societies, or even a market for the otherworldly. Despite numerous attempts to unveil its secrets, the "Mir Custa Tiro Souk" remains as a warning to children to not get close.

  Glint abruptly stopped his work, annoyed by the piercing sound. His concentration, now shattered by the sudden intrusion, stopped hammering abruptly. Annoyance flashed across his face as he tossed his hammer onto the anvil with a clang and turned to confront the source of the disturbance. His gaze fell on a young woman. Her appearance, strikingly refined with her elegant attire and neatly tied-up hair, stood in contrast to the rough surroundings.

  "You could have just called out to me!" Glint's voice boomed the space, overshadowing the surrounding noise of the working furnaces.

  "I did! Several times!" Muna responded, clearly irritated by the futile attempts to catch his attention.

  Glint, realising the communication mishap, softened his approach. "No one likes a deaf dwarf. It's bad for business," He muttered as his eyes landed on the rolls of schematics and blueprints she clutched. So, how may I assist you today, lass?"

  "I want to place an order for a cane."

  The noise of the weaponsmith store was overwhelming, filled with the clangs of metal and the roar of furnaces. Muna had to raise her voice more than she preferred to make herself heard over the continuous racket.

  "Wrong store for that, lass. You're looking for the carpenter's shop just two blocks down," Glint said as he leaned forward to make himself heard and gestured vaguely toward the street.

  Unswayed by the redirection, Muna swiftly rolled out one of the schematics on the cluttered counter surface. "I need it to be made of steel and capable of conducting solar magic," she said, elevating her voice to cut through the cacophony. Her finger glided over the blueprint, highlighting key elements as she spoke.

  Glint, now fully engaged, retrieved a pair of glasses from his vest and adjusted them on his nose, squinting to scrutinise the complex plans. His expression shifted from professional curiosity to recognition as he traced the designs with his gaze. "May I know your name, lass?" he inquired, the respect mingling with his curiosity.

  "Muna," she responded firmly, maintaining the volume necessary to bridge the gap the noise created.

  "Muna, who?"

  "Dargustea."

  This was the woman Professor Edgar had spoken of—the one responsible for designing his unique cane. Edgar had also hinted that this woman was like his unborn son—different.

  "Is it hard?" Glint suddenly asked, his question cutting through the shop's noise and seeming to catch Muna off guard.

  She looked perplexed. "The schematics? Yes, they were challenging to finalise."

  "No, I mean being... you. Is it hard?"

  Muna laughed nervously, her frown creasing as she misunderstood his drift. "I'm not sure what you mean."

  "My son, he's going to be... like you. As a father, I'm trying to understand what to expect."

  Muna's expression hardened, her initial amusement fading into a stern mask. "I have no idea what you're implying. I am a Dargustea, a Menschen, and whatever you think you know about me is mistaken!"

  Taken aback by her response, Glint realised he had overstepped. He quickly reverted to his professional decorum. "Let's focus on the task. Hand me the rest of your plans, and give me a couple of hours. You can fetch your cane then."

  "Couple of hours?"

  "Did you hear me stammer?" Glint replied, mimicking her stoic expression.

  Melded with the roar of blazing furnaces, Muna's frustration was no secret. She clutched the rolls of her schematics tightly, her voice straining to rise above the noise. "Well, it doesn't make sense. By my calculation, it would take you around four moons to complete the cane and perhaps another half-moon to carve the details. This is not just a cane; it's Magesitek. I heard you were the best!"

  Glint recognised that Muna's stipulations were on point, but the cane was ready and waiting in storage. Yet, his face, set in a blend of pride and stubbornness, shot back over the din. "And I am the best, a Keplan, a dwarf, and whatever you think you know about me is mistaken!" His words cut through the boiling noise. "Do we have a deal or continue in a banter that none of us wants?"

  Reluctantly, Muna unrolled the rest of her schematics across the cluttered counter. "This is for my friend... and he is seriously injured, probably for life. I want him to have an easy way to defend himself." Muna softened, "So it doesn't happen again."

  Glint took his time, examining each schematic with meticulous care. Finally, he looked up, his expression serious yet admiring. "You have done a great job. I wouldn't be able to come up with this. Don't worry. In a couple of hours, your friend will have a powerful Magesitek."

  Muna, still sceptical, "A couple of hours?"

  Glint replied sharply over the noise, "Again, do you hear me stammer?"

  "Three hours then," Muna said as she turned and exited the store. Her eyes surveyed the bustling streets of Mir-Alma, contemplating where she could kill time.

  Muna paced the street, her arms tightly crossed against the biting chill that seeped into her bones. Shopfront windows, glowing with warm light, offered brief visual distractions as she passed by. Yet the cold was relentless, and only twenty minutes had ticked by. She scrutinised her surroundings for any sign of a café or restaurant, a place to escape the frosty air and fill the waiting hours, but none were in sight.

  You could be reading stolen content. Head to the original site for the genuine story.

  Just as she considered returning to the noisy warmth of the weaponsmith shop, a flicker caught her eye. A neon sign stuttered to life above a doorway, sputtering momentarily before stabilising to spell out "Coin Toss Baazar." Relief and curiosity made Muna head towards the inviting glow, hopeful for the promise of warmth and a quiet corner to collect her thoughts.

  Muna entered the dimly lit Coin Toss Baazar, a worried wrinkle playing on her lips as she took in the ambience. The air was thick with smoke that hung like fog, blurring the outlines of patrons and furniture. Behind the bar, a towering orc with a green, muscular build meticulously mixed drinks, his movements surprisingly graceful for his size. Shelves laden with an array of bottles formed a shimmering backdrop to his imposing figure.

  The pub pulsed with an unmistakable vibrancy. At several tables, elves and faes mingled, their conversations a hum under the bar's eclectic music. Scattered throughout the room, statuesque women in minimal attire moved with an air of confidence, their presence adding a layer of allure to the establishment's vibrant ambience. Muna absorbed the scene, feeling the buzz of shyness as she made her way to an empty seat.

  She slid onto a bar stool, a flicker of unease crossing her features as she pieced together the true nature of the establishment. With a hesitant gesture, she ordered a spiced whiskey on the rocks and shrugged off her coat, her movements a bit stiff. She watched intently as the bartender, his large, green hands surprisingly delicate, skillfully combined herbs and spirits into a vibrant cocktail.

  Taking her own drink, Muna tentatively sipped the whiskey, feeling the ice clink against the glass and the fiery liquid slide down her throat. Gradually, the warmth from the alcohol began to dissolve the knots of tension in her shoulders, softening her initial discomfort. As the lively buzz of the bar continued around her, she found herself sinking a little deeper into her seat, the edges of her surroundings blurring slightly as she relaxed.

  She looked around, and posters and photos were filling the walls—nothing out of the ordinary if it wasn't for the fact that all those pictures were coloured. She left her coat over the stool and approached a few framed photos.

  The walls were adorned with a gallery of vividly coloured portraits, each capturing creatures in extravagant outfits and hairstyles far from the ordinary. Muna surveyed the array, her eyes darting from one eccentric depiction to another, struggling to grasp the full context of this visual pandemonium.

  Suddenly, her gaze locked onto a smaller frame nestled among the larger, more flamboyant images. It was a jarring moment of recognition as she found herself staring back from the canvas.

  Her hair was tousled, wildly different from her usual neat bun, and her typically modest attire was replaced by a daring, almost bare ensemble that was only just concealed by a delicate silver necklace shaped like a spider's web.

  '10.2.444—Summer' was written in black inelegant calligraphy at the bottom right of the picture.

  The shock of seeing herself portrayed in such an unfamiliar, provocative way sent a chill through her, reshaping her understanding of the place and her own image within it. She couldn't understand what she was seeing.

  Muna stepped closer to the colourful portrait, her eyes narrowing as she tried to make sense of the image before her. The vivid colours held her in a trance, her mind racing to find some logical explanation. "It must be a doppelganger," she muttered under her breath, the most plausible explanation she could muster, yet the uniqueness of the silver spider-web necklace in the photo—a detail too specific to dismiss easily. It had a sense of familiarity.

  Turning to gauge the reactions of the other patrons, she found that no one else seemed to notice or care about the portrait. They continued their conversations and laughter, oblivious to the turmoil stirring within her.

  Frustrated and bewildered, Muna faced the portrait again, hoping for some clue that might reveal the image as a falsehood. Yet, nothing alleviated her confusion.

  "I really like that picture," a voice suddenly commented behind her. Muna whirled around to find an elf with vibrant purple hair adorned with a necklace identical to the one in her portrait. In her arms, the elf cradled a toddler, sound asleep against her chest. The sight of the necklace, so peculiar and so intimately familiar, sent a fresh wave of shock through her.

  Muna carried her usual sternness as she faced the elf, "Do I know you?"

  "Not yet, but you will," the elf replied, her wide smile revealing prominent canines.

  "I... I don't know you."

  "Yet," the elf chirped. Just then, a man approached, gently taking the toddler from her arms. "Give Master Xendrix the bottle. I'm going to have a chat with Miss Dargustea." Now, with her hands-free, she gestured towards an empty table. "Please, it won't take long, I promise."

  Reluctantly, Muna followed and sat down, her brow furrowed in suspicion. "Who are you?"

  "My name is Zvoya, Zvoya Kaspian, and soon enough, you and I will be blood sisters," the elf declared with a steel confidence contrasting sharply with the tense atmosphere that had settled on Muna's shoulder.

  "What... that doesn't make any sense," Muna stammered. Her sense of reality was further jolted when she noticed a semi-naked girl at the bar, her teeth lingering on another's neck in a predatory yet intimate gesture. She was feasting on red blood.

  "Don't be afraid. Nobody will touch you," the Lamia assured Muna, her grip gentle yet firm on Muna's hand, trying to calm her.

  "I think... I must go. People are expecting me," Muna murmured, moving to stand. But as she rose, Zvoya's grip tightened, her nail pressing into Muna's skin until a bead of blood emerged, trickling down her palm in a thin, red line.

  "Your time, darling, is passing by faster than any of us. You are beautiful and bright but horribly mortal. I know you will come back. And I will be here. We are ready for you; for us, you are already family," Zvoya spoke with a tenderness that strangely echoed Lisa's, yet her words carried a weight that pulled at Muna's very core.

  Caught off guard by the intensity of the moment and the odd sense of connection, Muna blurted out, "I don't want to die." She was surprised by her own words, the fear they conveyed not fully realised until spoken.

  "You won't die, I can promise you that—not in the past, the now, not even then. You are like a miracle, and I can help you to make it true. Can you imagine living long enough to be by the Professor's side?" Zvoya's tone was persuasive, weaving a vision of a timeless existence as she delicately wiped the blood from Muna's hand with a handkerchief pulled from her bustier. "Not many can promise you forever."

  "I need to go," Muna muttered.

  She hurried out of the establishment, her steps quickening until she nearly ran. Her breath caught in her throat when she glanced over her shoulder. The 'Coin Toss Baazar', filled with the eerie promise of eternity, had vanished without a trace. In its place stood an abandoned plot, overgrown and desolate, with only a bare tree and a forlorn donkey.

  As she stood there, heart pounding, Muna realised the gravity of the encounter. Someone besides her mother and Lisa knew her secret—a secret she had guarded so carefully. It was only a matter of time before the facade she maintained would crumble. Muna was not Menschen. She was sick. She was human.

  And she lost her coat.

  

  The first Long Night was a period of catastrophic upheaval. While many speak of the immediate horrors it wrought, the aftermath is often left in the shadows. I've often pondered this oversight might stem from a collective fear of revisiting the pain and loss endured during those dark times. Perhaps there is a reluctance dread to fall into Winter's grip. Like many other families, the Dargustea were no exception to the disaster. They were originally from the coastal regions of Praiaemar in Ostesh. The first day of the Long Night was particularly devastating for Darra Dargustea and her daughter, Muna. As the Red Sea surged and engulfed their home, Darra survived, but her baby, only two Falls old at the time, was lost to the waves. An intense search ensued for the little girl but hopes waned with each passing day. Muna was eventually returned by the sea in a turn of events as mysterious as it was miraculous. She was found alive, her cheeks rosy and her lips red. The sea had given back what it had taken, but the circumstances of her survival remained a profound mystery, one that Darra shared with me in strict confidence. Darra revealed that on the first night of Winter, Muna was returned not as a mere survivor of the sea's wrath but as a human, transformed in ways that defied explanation. She swore me to secrecy regarding the true nature of Muna's return, a promise I have kept until I could no more. ——The Hexe - Book Two by Professor Edgar O. Duvencrune, First Edition, 555th Summer