BLAZE
The black market reeks of desperation, sweat, and rot. The stalls here are a patchwork of rusted metal and splintered wood, their goods as filthy as the cobblestones beneath them. Apples bruised to near pulp sit piled next to jars of what might be pickled... something. People shove past, their shoulders brushing mine, and every touch sets my nerves on edge. Not that Ashton notices.
He’s walking ahead of me, like some self-righteous savior leading the way through this godsdamned mess. His boots avoid every puddle, his coat somehow immune to the grime clinging to the air. Meanwhile, I can feel the filth settling on me, under my skin, crawling deeper with every step.
“You’re quiet,” Ashton says over his shoulder, like I haven’t been stewing in silence for the last ten minutes. He sto
