Page 163 of Lana Pecherczyk
Tick-tick-tick-tick.
“Looks like your spell ain’t worth the feathers on your wings,” Pandora muttered, dusting her hands. Her hidden metallic finishings must have disrupted the magic.
When she glanced back at the group, the Guardians were all that remained. They walked away, almost out of sight. Pandora abandoned the merchant’s whining mid-sentence and stalkedthem. She circled the market until she found a narrow gap between structures and pressed against the rough wood, melting into the shadows. Deep voices carried through the late afternoon air.
“—confirmed sightings,” the second Guardian said. “Three more disappearances near the western perimeter.”
“Cloud?” The first’s voice hardened.
“Or something else.”
“Nero knows we’re here.”
“Maybe.”
“That’s my line.”
A short laugh held no warmth.
“The Collector is here,” the second Guardian continued. “She’ll be at the Shadow Market tonight. Midnight. I doubt she’ll have the cryptex?—”
“But we can talk to her,” the other finished. “Did you bring that thing you wanted to trade?”
An extended pause. “Yeah.”
“Where?”
“Up your ass.”
“Fuck you.”
The duo moved away, their voices diminishing. Pandora remained frozen, processing this revelation. The Collector—the very target Nero had dispatched her to find. The Guardians had done her work for her. Tonight at the Shadow Market. Perfect.
Tick. Tick.
Pandora slipped deeper into the shadows, calculating. The cryptex remained her objective, but this unexpected development altered her approach. It would be better for her to observe this Collector first to understand what would make a valuable trade.
“Find the cryptex,” she whispered. “Deliver it to Nero.”
And then what?
“I knew you weren’t one of us.”
The purple-braided female blocked Pandora’s path, her eyes narrowing. “Your feathers. They’re not yours.”
Tick-tick-tick-tick.
“I have claws, just like the rest of you.” Pandora’s voice remained flat.
“Prove it.” The jeweled crow’s hand drifted toward her hip, where a dagger hilt waited to be claimed.
Pandora struck. One hand clamped over the crow’s mouth while the other clamped around her throat, driving her backward behind a stack of wooden crates. The female kicked, scratched, and drew a wound across Pandora’s cheek, but no blood came out.
Her eyes widened with terror, but she made no sound. Pandora still covered her mouth.
Electricity flared in the atmosphere, skipping and crackling. Wings started to manifest. Shadows and shimmering light formed shapes behind the female.
But Pandora was faster. Warmth flooded her joints. Her fingertips tingled, then split open, and five metal claws ripped through the female’s throat. Blood welled around polished metal. The Tainted One’s wings disappeared, her access to the Well cut off. Her struggles weakened, then eventually ceased.
