There were many things Sylas Vermund considered himself good at.
Starting fights? Not anymore.
Avoiding responsibility? He was a natural.
Betting his life on random choices that somehow worked out? Unfortunately, that was starting to look like a recurring skill.
He stood in front of a dusty, crooked stall tucked between two potion shops in the back alley of the academy market district. The wood creaked like it hadn't seen polish since the empire's founding, and a ragged banner overhead read in scrawled letters: Enchanted Odds & Ends – No Returns. Ever.
Solid. Definitely reputable.
The old man running the stall looked half-dead, half-possessed, and entirely uninterested in Sylas's presence.
Sylas narrowed his eyes. "So… you said I can draw one item from the chest if I win the coin toss?"
The man nodded lazily. "One draw. One win. One chance. Heads or tails."
"What's the catch?" Sylas asked, crossing his arms.
The man cracked a yellow grin. "If you lose… you give me something of value. Something close to the soul."
Sylas blinked.
"I don't have a soul," he said casually. "Corporate drained that years ago."
The man cackled like that was the funniest thing he'd heard in a decade. "Then you have nothing to fear."
Sylas exhaled, stared at the coin in the man's gnarled hand, and did a quick mental calculation.
Worst case: he loses, gives up something dumb like hair or a memory of his favorite food.
Best case: he walks away with something rare, magical, and possibly life-saving.
Risk-to-reward ratio: 50-50.
Exactly the kind of math he hated, but also kind of lived by now.
"Heads," Sylas said. "Let's get this over with."
The coin flipped.
The world slowed.
And then—clink.
"Heads," the man grinned. "Lucky boy."
He shoved an old wooden box forward. "Pick your prize."
Sylas raised an eyebrow. "Is this one of those 'every box is cursed' situations?"
"No, no," the man said, waving a hand. "Only some of them."
Sylas knelt, brows furrowed, and pulled open the box. Inside lay a mess of junk—buttons, cracked runes, a teacup handle… and one item that glowed faintly purple. A small black pendant shaped like a twisted crescent moon, humming with quiet energy.
[System Notification]
Unknown Artifact Acquired: Shadowglint Tether
Item Type: Soul-Bound. Effect: ???
Warning: Potentially sentient. Do not feed after midnight.
"…Seriously?" Sylas muttered. "It's not a gremlin, it's jewelry."
The pendant shifted. Just slightly. Like it heard him.
"Great," he whispered. "A cursed fashion statement."
Still, a free magical item was a win. He slipped it under his shirt and stood.
"Thanks for the nightmare trinket," he said.
The man only smiled. "Luck favors the cautious fool, boy. But beware—some doors open only once."
Sylas walked away quickly before the man could say anything more cryptic. Or ask for a kidney.
The academy's west garden was quiet this time of day, save for the occasional rustle of leaves and overachievers reading under trees. Sylas sat on a bench, letting the pendant settle against his skin like a mild electric shock.
He didn't trust it. But he also didn't not trust it.
It was hard to explain. Like it was watching. Waiting.
[System Update]
Side Quest Activated: Investigate the Origin of Shadowglint Tether
Reward: Knowledge (and maybe not dying)
"Fantastic," he muttered. "Another mystery I didn't ask for."
He glanced up just in time to see someone approaching—Vivienne.
Again.
She didn't look angry. Which was terrifying.
"You really like showing up whenever I think I'm alone," Sylas said.
Vivienne ignored the jab. "Did you visit the market district?"
Sylas stiffened. "Maybe."
"Did you gamble with a man who smells like ash and sulfur?"
"…Maybe."
She sighed. "You idiot. That's not a stall. That's a contract trap."
"Define trap," Sylas asked, eyes narrowing.
Vivienne pulled something from her pocket and held it up. It was a thin slip of paper with glowing red runes. A summoning scroll—already used.
"Three people disappeared this semester after making deals with him," she said. "He's not a vendor. He's a collector."
Sylas went pale. "Cool. Cool cool cool. So I might've sold my soul for a necklace."
"I told you to keep your head down."
"I was keeping it down. He made me an offer I couldn't refuse!"
"Because it was cursed!"
"Well, yeah, now I know that."
She rubbed her temple like she was holding back the urge to strangle him. "What did you get?"
Sylas hesitated. Then pulled the pendant halfway out.
Vivienne stared.
"You have no idea what that is, do you?"
Sylas grinned. "Absolutely not. But hey—it sparkles."
That night, as Sylas tried to sleep, the pendant pulsed once—soft, almost gentle.
And then, faintly, he heard a voice:
"Don't trust the girl."
His eyes shot open.
"…I'm sorry, what?"