But it had been used. Cleaned often. Sharpened well. The edge bore a faint notch at the midpoint. The kind of flaw that came from striking something harder than bone or armor.
'Not for ceremony. Not for show. Just for finishing what someone else started.'
Elara joined him. Looked once. Looked again.
She tapped a finger gently near the base of the hilt.
"That's why it works."
Nathan reached their side, holding a sheathed dagger from another stand.
"It better not have a name."
He grinned. "It's called Starlacer."
He set it back without complaint.
The clerk returned a minute later. He offered no pitch. No price. Just a simple nod toward the exit when they were done.
Merlin looked back once, before the door shut behind them.
'Not everything sharp needs to be deadly. But everything deadly stays sharp.'
The weapon shop door closed behind them with a soft wooden click.
Outside, the sound returned. Footsteps. Conversation. The clatter of utensils from a nearby food stall. A gust of warm air from the upper walkway sent the smell of grilled spice wafting down past them.
But none of them spoke.
Nathan walked ahead a little, hands in his jacket pockets, his usual bounce subdued. He didn't whistle this time. Didn't turn to crack a joke.
Elara drifted beside Merlin, her stride careful. Not hesitant. Just tuned to match his pace. She kept glancing at the shops they passed, but didn't pause to look inside.
Merlin said nothing. His eyes stayed forward. There was a weight in his chest that hadn't moved since the blade in the case.
'Too many weapons in one place. Too many questions they don't want to ask. I keep walking like something will feel right again, but it doesn't. Everything feels two degrees off center. Like I'm waiting for a fight I can't see yet.'
They passed a display window filled with old war relics, and his eyes caught on a set of armor. It wasn't fancy.
Half-dented, scuffed at the joints, no crest. But it had been real once. Worn into battle by someone who survived enough to take it off later.
He stared at the helmet for a second longer than necessary.
Elara stopped beside him.
"You thinking of taking up heavy armor now?"
"Too bad. You'd look good in it."
He glanced sideways. She didn't smile. Her voice wasn't teasing. She just said it like it was a fact, then kept walking.
Nathan waited near the edge of the next intersection, tapping the base of a cracked vending machine with his boot.
"You two get lost in the past again?"
Merlin didn't answer.
Elara stepped ahead of him and pointed to the glowing directory built into the wall.
"There's a café near the west end," she said. "Quiet. Real chairs. Not the floating crystal garbage they keep putting everywhere."
Nathan squinted at the map. "Says it serves Lunarberry tea."
"I'm not ordering that."
Elara ignored him and started walking. Nathan followed. Merlin hesitated, then moved to keep pace.
They passed a section with glowing fountains, the water suspended mid-air by enchantments. Kids darted between the columns, laughing. Parents trailed after, half-smiling, half-tired.
The tallest fountain had an orb of silver mana balanced at its peak. Decorative. Harmless. Just light and motion. But it made something in his gut shift.
The café was quiet, just like Elara promised.
A narrow place. One row of booths. One glass counter filled with mismatched pastries. The woman behind the bar barely looked up when they walked in. She just waved them toward a corner seat and went back to her crossword.
They sat. Elara took the inside. Nathan sat across from her and immediately started picking apart the sugar packets left on the table. Merlin took the end seat, back to the wall.
A soft clink echoed as someone dropped a spoon nearby. Another group laughed too loudly two booths down, but no one complained.
Nathan tapped the laminated menu.
"Alright. Who's actually hungry again?"
Nathan glanced at him. Didn't push. He just flagged the waitress over and ordered something with too much syrup and a side of whatever they had that could pass for protein.
Elara ordered a sandwich. Blackbread. Thick-cut.
Merlin stared out the window.
The mall was alive again. But it felt like something else had crawled underneath it. Like the edges of the day weren't clean anymore.
'I've been trying to move like nothing's broken. But I can feel the crack every time I shift my weight. It's not just the mana. It's something in the shape of me. Off balance. Like I never came back properly.'
The drinks arrived first. Then the plates.
Elara bit into her sandwich. Nathan poured half a sugar packet into his tea and stirred until it dissolved.
Merlin didn't touch his.
Her foot nudged his under the table.
"No. You're not skipping this too."
He looked at her. She didn't blink.
Nathan sighed. "You two are exhausting."
"You love it," Elara muttered.
Merlin finally reached for the sandwich. Took a bite.
It was warm. Just bread and some kind of herb meat. Bland. But real.
And for just a second, the ache in his chest felt a little quieter.
"I'm going to the toilet," Merlin said flatly.
Nathan raised an eyebrow. "Too much information."
Elara gave a vague nod without looking up. Her fingers were still thumbing through the pockets of a leather jacket she had no intention of buying.
Merlin turned before either of them could add something dumb, slipping between two aisles of decorative weapons and wall-length mirrors.
The overhead lights flickered slightly. Every third one buzzed in a way that rubbed at his nerves.
He found the restroom tucked in the corner behind a sign that looked like it hadn't been cleaned in weeks.
Inside, the shift in atmosphere was immediate.
Tiles underfoot gleamed like they'd been polished too recently, and the air had that faint sterilized sting that didn't belong in public facilities.
Merlin didn't stop at the sinks. He made it two steps past the mirror before his instincts screamed.
His fist rose with practiced speed.
Not like a stun spell. Not a binding technique.
Like his own nervous system had betrayed him.
His breath caught halfway in his throat as his eyes registered the figure just behind him.
White coat. Sharp shoulders. Not a crease out of place.
Silver hair, neatly combed and cut short at the nape.
Glasses that reflected the sterile light perfectly, but let nothing through.
Merlin's jaw tightened.
'I've seen you before.'
Perhaps weeks ago. On the far side of the city. Standing calmly in the traffic that didn't seem to notice him. No aura. No presence.
"You don't listen," the man said calmly. "Even when the signs are obvious."