Moon Dallah 1

The ground crunched beneath our feet as Jason led us through the bustling streets of Apredis, with Farthington and me following close behind. My gaze roamed over the town, taking in the vibrant scenes of daily life. Residents swept their stoops and polished windows, chatting as they sipped steaming drinks and enjoyed the cool ocean breeze. Children chased each other, laughing as they brandished sticks, while others wheeled loads of supplies in rickety barrows. The atmosphere was lively, but somehow, I couldn’t picture myself calling this place home.

I glanced up to find that Farthington had moved ahead of me. I noticed, however, that he was no longer holding the suit or book he’d carried earlier. Furrowing my brow, I nudged him gently, keeping my voice low. “Hey,” I whispered, leaning closer, “where did the stuff you were holding go?”

Farthington smirked, shrugging off my question with his usual flair. “Doesn’t really matter, does it?” he whispered back. “But more importantly—care to enlighten me on where we’re headed? I only caught something about ‘Bakhlav’ when you and Mister Serious over there were talking.” He nodded subtly toward Jason.

“He’s leading us to someone I’m looking for. Hopefully.”

“Hopefully?” Farthington repeated, raising an eyebrow in skepticism.

“It’s the best lead I’ve found so far. I haven’t gotten this close before.”

“Why are you so intent on finding this person anyway?”

I paused, hesitating to answer. Turning away from Farthington, I picked up my pace, not quite ready to share the full story—especially with someone like him, an ‘anomaly’ that Nanik had been tracking. Not that I even fully understood what that meant…

We moved toward the outskirts of Apredis, leaving behind the town’s clamor. The cobbled streets grew rougher, giving way to open fields dotted with wooden fences, weathered farmhouses, and windmills that creaked in the gentle breeze. The scent of damp soil and wildflowers drifted on the air, grounding us in the quieter countryside. Life still stirred here—horse-drawn carts lumbered by, and the occasional villager tipped their hat as we passed, to which Farthington responded with a spirited wave.

Jason suddenly paused in the middle of the road, his gaze fixed on an old-fashioned black carriage stationed nearby. The horses pawed restlessly at the ground, and the sturdy, albeit worn, carriage frame exuded a rugged charm. He muttered, almost to himself, “Should we take the omnibus? Or perhaps walking would be better…”

Just then, from the corner of my eye, I noticed Nanik approaching us, having likely spotted us as we wound through town. “How did it go?” I asked, drawing Jason’s attention.

Nanik shrugged, his usual composure intact. “Productive enough, I’d say.” He turned to Jason. “Now, care to introduce me to this young man?”

Jason’s eyes narrowed slightly as he sized up Nanik, a subtle curiosity in his expression. I stepped in, gesturing between them. “Nanik, this is Jason Berth. Jason, meet Nanik, one of my… companions.”

Jason gave a slight nod, his eyes sharp with a trace of skepticism. “Pleasure, I suppose,” he muttered.

Nanik’s polite smile barely concealed the glint in his eyes; he was clearly already assessing Jason. “The pleasure’s mine.”

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After a moment, Jason decided. “With four of us, the omnibus is probably the best option.” I exhaled a quiet sigh of relief—this might be my only chance to rest. Farthington, however, seemed unbothered, his gaze drifting distantly.

Jason approached the omnibus driver, handing him what looked like eight Mira. “Seats for four to Bakhlav” he said simply.

The driver pocketed the coins and gestured for us to board. Jason settled in at the front, taking a strategic spot to watch over us, while Farthington claimed a window seat, lost in thought. Nanik positioned himself across from Jason, clearly ready for a conversation. I took a seat near the back, leaning against the wall and gazing out the window.

After a few minutes, the driver climbed aboard, and with a slight jolt, the omnibus began its steady journey, the horses’ hooves echoing rhythmically as they pulled us forward.

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After an eight-hour journey, the omnibus finally rolled to a stop at Bakhlav City. I must have drifted off at some point, as I felt a gentle shake from Farthington, stirring me awake. Blinking against the morning light streaming in through the window, I looked around, groggy and disoriented, before gathering myself and following the others off the omnibus.

Stepping outside was like plunging into a whirlpool of sensations. The air was thick with the scent of exotic spices, sizzling street food, and a medley of perfumes that drifted from the market. Everywhere, bright colors flashed in my peripheral vision, from the fabric stalls to baskets piled high with fruit, as merchants shouted to attract customers in a mix of unfamiliar languages. This was no ordinary market; it was a crossroads, buzzing with life and energy from locals and travelers alike.

Jason stepped down beside me, scanning the scene with a focused look. “Coffee,” he muttered, as though it were a lifeline, his tone laced with an almost desperate longing. Meanwhile, Farthington seemed entirely captivated by the stalls, his eyes darting from trinkets to unusual herbs. Nanik, on the other hand, looked comfortable, as if he’d navigated Bakhlav’s bustling streets before.

As we wove through the crowd, Farthington kept pausing to inspect various stalls, his curiosity getting the better of him. It took more than a few sharp tugs on his sleeve to keep him moving, but he finally managed to pry himself away, albeit reluctantly. Jason led us through the winding streets until we arrived at a cozy café nestled away from the market’s bustle. Above the door, a weathered wooden sign read "Moon Dallah," its letters carefully carved and inviting, as though promising refuge from the chaos outside.

Inside, the café felt like stepping into another world. Rich coffee aromas enveloped us, mingling with the warmth of polished wooden beams and soft candlelight that cast a gentle glow across the room. It was serene and timeless, with a rustic charm that felt miles away from the frenzied market outside.

Jason moved confidently to the counter, clearly familiar with the place. The barista, who had been wiping down the countertop absentmindedly, froze the moment he noticed us. His gaze lingered on me, and a flicker of suprise crossed his face, though he remained silent. There was a tension in the air, something unspoken yet palpable.

I stiffened, my pulse quickening. ‘He reacted to seeing me as well… could this be where I meet them?’

Jason, catching the barista’s reaction, gave me a brief, unreadable glance before returning his attention to the man, who was visibly uneasy. The barista’s hands trembled as he set down a cup, though Jason’s nod seemed to steady him, as if the two shared a silent understanding. The Barista then tapped the counter in a deliberate sequence of taps.

After replying with his own sequence on taps, Jason crossed through the shop to a large wooden shelf at the back of the café. His fingers traced over a faint engraving, and with a soft glow, a yellow rune illuminated beneath his touch. The shelf shifted, groaning as it opened to reveal a concealed passage leading down into a shadowy stairwell.

Jason looked over his shoulder, his face unreadable. “Follow me,” he said, his voice barely above a whisper, then started down the steps without waiting for a response.

I hesitated, feeling the warm, safe ambiance of the café slip away as the chill of the hidden passage washed over me. ‘What exactly are we stepping into?’