The Currency of Ghosts

Hourglass Alley was a misnomer. There were no hourglasses here, only time wasted. It was a narrow fissure between two collapsing tenements, filled with stalls selling things that reputable mages wouldn't touch.

Mud splashed Kaelen’s shins as he skidded around the corner.

Most of the stalls were shuttered. The scavengers knew the Tide was high tonight. Only one stall was open, lit by a lantern burning green corpse-fat.

The Void Broker sat behind a table laden with junk. He was a creature of indeterminate species, wrapped in layers of grey rags, his face hidden beneath a hood.

"You're late," the Broker croaked.

"I'm on time," Kaelen panted, slamming his hands on the table. "11:45 PM. Exactly like last time."

The Broker chuckled, a dry sound like shifting gravel. "Last time? You’ve never been here before, boy."

Kaelen ignored him. The Broker didn't remember the loops. Only Kaelen carried the weight.

"I need a Mana Crystal," Kaelen said. "Standard charge. Enough to hold a Class-3 Ward for six hours."

"Mana is expensive tonight," the Broker said, idly polishing a brass gear. " The Tide is hungry. Supply and demand."

Kaelen slapped the three copper coins onto the wood.

The Broker looked at them. He didn't even blink. "That buys you a look at the crystal. Not the touch."

"I need it," Kaelen said, his voice rising. "My sister..."

"Everyone has a sister, or a mother, or a dying cat," the Broker sighed. He reached under the counter and pulled out a small, glowing blue shard. It pulsed with pure energy.

It was salvation.

"Three coppers is an insult," the Broker said. "But... I see you have nothing else of material value."

The Broker leaned forward. The green light of the lantern illuminated a pair of eyes that were entirely pupil.

"I take trade," the Broker whispered. "essence. Experience. Memory."

Kaelen froze.

He knew this part. This was the transaction that flayed him.

In Loop 10, he had sold the memory of his favorite food. Now, when he ate, he tasted nothing but ash.

In Loop 25, he had sold the memory of his father’s face. Now, he couldn't recall if his father had a beard or a scar.

"What do you want?" Kaelen asked, his grip tightening on the edge of the table.

"Something warm," the Broker said, licking his lips. "Something... comforting. A voice. A lullaby, perhaps?"

Kaelen closed his eyes.

He had one clear memory left of his mother. It wasn't her face—that was gone. It was her voice, humming a song about the stars while she patched his coat. It was the only sound in his head that drowned out the static of the Void.

"Take it," Kaelen whispered.

The Broker reached out a gloved hand. He didn't touch the coins. He touched Kaelen’s forehead.

It didn't hurt physically. It felt like a hook snagging a thread in the center of his brain and *pulling*.

Kaelen gasped. The warmth in his chest evaporated. The sound of the humming... it became distant. Muffled. Then silent.

He tried to grasp it, to hum the tune, but his mind grasped at empty air. The silence that replaced it was cold and absolute.

He felt a tear slide down his cheek, but he didn't know why he was crying.

"Delicious," the Broker murmured, retracting his hand. A wisp of silver smoke curled around his fingers before he inhaled it.

He tossed the blue crystal to Kaelen.

"Pleasure doing business."

Kaelen grabbed the crystal. He felt lighter. Hollower. There was a hole in him shaped like a song he couldn't remember.

He turned and ran.