"You should be careful on nights of the full moon!" An old woman's voice rang out, sharp and youthful despite her ragged appearance. Dressed in threadbare wool, her frame was slight, but her presence commanded attention. Around her, a crowd had gathered, composed of both the elderly and the young, all leaning in to hear her tales. Her words held a magnetic pull and it rang out warningly.
"The creepers are at their strongest on nights like this," she continued, her eyes sweeping over her captivated listeners. "Even the safety of your own home may not protect you. They could find a way in."
Not everyone shared the crowd's fascination, however. Two men, who seemed to have listened for long enough, left the gathering in a hurry. The first man, his brow furrowed in irritation, grumbled to his companion as they made their way through the outskirts of the crowd.
"That old woman just won't stop rambling on, will she?" he said with an sigh. "Every night, it's another one of her strange stories. Isn't she supposed to be a shaman or something?"
The other man scoffed, his raspy voice filled with contempt.
"It's all part of her business, I'm telling you," he muttered. "Everyone's crazy these days. Can you believe people buy those talismans she sells? They look like cheap scraps of cloth and twine, nothing magical about them."
Just then, Leila passed by them, inadvertently brushing her shoulder against one of the men as she made her way through the street. The men stopped, momentarily thrown off by the contact, and turned to glare at her with narrowed eyes.
One of them stepped forward, his gaze fierce as he addressed her with a snarl. "Hey, kid!" he barked, his voice low and threatening. "Watch where you're going!"
Leila froze, keeping her head low as she turned away from the two agitated men. Quickly, she adjusted her veil, ensuring it covered the lower half of her face, concealing any hint of expression that might give away her nervousness.
"I'm sorry," she murmured, bowing her head and scurrying away with quick, apologetic nods. As she approached, Leila could make out an older woman at the center of it all, gesturing dramatically as she spoke.
Clutching her basket tightly, Leila studied the woman with narrowed eyes, noting the woman's clothing: layers of mismatched fabrics and trinkets hung in a haphazard fashion that hinted she was either a gypsy or a shaman. Leila halted at the edge of the crowd, just close enough to hear.
"We have nothing to be afraid of!" one man declared, holding up a small charm for emphasis. "We bought talismans, plenty of them. They'll keep us safe from any beast lurking out there."
The woman's lips curled into a knowing smile, her gaze shifting over the crowd with an air of amused pity. "Ah, those flimsy charms won't protect you from Shahkhur, the king of beasts," she said, her voice lighter but edged with mockery. "And before you accuse me of trying to sell my own wares, let me remind you: just a few days ago, the royal guards found mutilated bodies near the river. Poor fishermen, torn to pieces. What do you suppose happened to them?"
"They had a fight!" someone in the crowd called out, prompting a burst of laughter from the old woman.
"Of course, that's what the king's guard would tell you," the old woman continued in a conspiratorial tone, lowering her voice. "They don't want panic in the kingdom. But I've heard from the royal physician himself—the wounds on those fishermen were made by something monstrous, a creature far too large and savage to be any ordinary beast."
"But the fishermen were found on the shores of Laumpa River," someone objected, frowning. "That's miles away from the evil forest."
Another voice chimed in, sounding skeptical. "It could've been wolves or a wildcat."
The woman's eyes darkened, and she shook her head with grim certainty.
"Shahkhur will not stay hidden in the evil forest forever. One day, he'll come out, drawn by the prophecy. And when that day comes, the streets of Manchurin will run red with the blood of the guilty."
Terrified gasps filled the air, and mothers hastily shielded their children's ears. A few little ones were already crying, clutching onto their parents, while others stared up at the old woman with wide, frightened eyes.
"As if that will help," Leila muttered under her breath, her gaze fixed on the woman. The storyteller's words seemed carefully crafted to frighten and manipulate, and though Leila suspected she was a fraud, she had to admit the woman knew her work well.
"What are we supposed to do, then?" one of the women in the crowd asked, her voice trembling. "If our charms aren't enough to keep us safe?"
A wave of nods and murmurs spread, everyone looking to the old as the only hope to keep Shahkhur at bay.
"Every family should purchase the Moon Eye Stone amulet," the old woman declared with a confident smile. "It's powerful enough to ward off all manner of evil, even Shahkhur himself would be helpless against its strength."
"I would like to buy some!" someone shouted from the crowd, and soon, desperation turned to chaos as villagers began pushing forward, each one determined to secure an amulet that would protect their home and family.
Leila sighed, shaking her head at the frenzy, then turned and continued on her way. Glancing up, she noticed the sky was streaked with shades of yellow and red, the sun sinking lower by the minute. She knew tonight was expected to be a full moon—the very kind the old woman had warned about.
But Leila didn't need a talisman to feel safe. She could protect herself.
When she finally reached her destination, she approached quietly, tapping softly on the window. As it opened, Nasrin peered out, her face immediately lighting up with both relief and frustration.
"You're late, Leila!" she scolded, opening the window wider to help Leila climb inside. They'd been waiting for her, and Nasrin had almost given up hope that she'd come.
"I'm sorry," Leila replied as she removed the veil from her face, letting her dark hair fall in loose waves down her back. A small smile softened her expression.
Nasrin's brows furrowed, her voice laced with worry. "I was starting to think you wouldn't bring my refill," she fretted, clearly uneasy.
Leila gave a light chuckle as she fished through her basket, her fingers deftly sorting through its contents.
"And why would I do that?" she teased. "But honestly, with all the recent killings, security at the village border has been tight. It wasn't easy sneaking in tonight." She didn't mention the fact that she'd lingered on her way, drawn by the old gypsy woman's ominous tale, though the words still echoed in her mind.
"Here it is," Leila said, retrieving a few small potion bottles from her basket, each one carefully labeled with the name of a different customer. She handed a bottle to Nasrin, only for Sitara to reach over, grabbing at it.
"Why are you giving it to her?" Sitara protested, trying to tug the bottle from Leila's grasp. "I asked first! It should be mine."
Leila quickly pulled her hand back, smiling mischievously. "There's no need to fight, Sister Sitara. There's plenty for everyone," she reassured her with a wink. Just as both women reached for the bottle again, Leila raised an eyebrow and withdrew her hand once more.
She had come later on purpose, using the evening rush to her advantage. The courtesans were eager to get their hands on her fragrances and oils—essential luxuries to ensure they were their most alluring for their clients.
Here, in the heart of Manchurin's red-light district, the demand for her potions was high. It was one of the few places Leila could sell her wares without raising suspicion, and the ladies valued her offerings more than most.
"What are you doing, Leila?" Nasrin and Sitara exclaimed, exasperated. The commotion caught the attention of the other women nearby, who began crowding around her with outstretched hands.
Leila gave them all an innocent pout, fluttering her lashes. "Now, I know I'm your little sister, and I don't mean any disrespect, but some of you owe me from three nights ago." Her eyes scanned the gathered women, who exchanged guilty glances, muttering under their breaths. "Sister Minoo, Sister Sitara, Sister Nasrin," she listed, pointing to each one. "And Yazmin and Shamar—you all still owe me."
"I had to buy more kohl," Sitara explained hastily, glancing at her friends for support. "And Nasrin and Minoo here, well—they were saving for new anklets. You know the men love the sound of those!"
Leila crossed her arms, raising an eyebrow but holding back a smile. "And I need medication for my mother," she reminded them, her tone softening slightly. At her words, a flicker of guilt passed over the women's faces, and soon they all dispersed, fumbling through their pouches, some searching under the layers of their clothes for the money they owed.
The women admired Leila; she had always treated them with respect, never once looking down on them despite the nature of their work. While other young women in the village cast judgmental stares, Leila treated them with warmth and dignity. She helped them with laundry, shared stories, and did not judge them.
To the courtesans, Leila was family—a sister who understood the weight of their struggles.
Minoo approached her, producing a string of coins tied securely to the edge of her dress. She counted out a few and handed them to Leila.
"I owe you four Takah, but here, take ten. Get yourself something to eat when you're done here," she said with a gentle smile.
Leila's eyes widened in surprise, gratitude shining in them. "Thank you, Sister Minoo," she murmured, touched by the gesture.
"What are you girls still doing here?" came a sharp voice that made everyone freeze. Leila quickly pulled her veil over her face, but it was too late—the voice's owner had already entered the room. It was Madam Baran, the formidable matron of the Glory House.
"Why are you standing around idly?" she barked, her tall, imposing figure casting a long shadow over the cowering women. "You're keeping the customers waiting!" Her tone was clipped, her gaze searing. Instantly, the courtesans scrambled, hastily grabbing their perfumes from Leila and rushing from the room to escape the madam's wrath.
"And you?" Madam Baran's eyes landed on Leila, who instinctively lowered her head, hoping to evade the woman's scrutiny. "What are you doing here? Do you want to bring trouble to my doorstep?"
Leila's voice was barely above a whisper. "I have no intention of causing you any trouble, Madam Baran." She kept her eyes downcast, her voice steady but respectful.
The madam's eyes narrowed. "On no account are people that are exiled allowed within the village. Anyone associating with them is risking severe punishment. And I have no intention of seeing my business shut down because of you."
Leila felt the cold weight of Madam Baran's stare, but she didn't look up. "I'm only here to buy medicine for my sick mother, Madam," she said, her voice pleading. "And I always make sure to be discreet. Please, I beg of you. My sisters here are my only clients. They're the only ones who buy this much of my ointments and perfumes."
Leila, trembling but desperate, knelt down and reached for the edge of Madam Baran's garment, her fingers brushing the fabric with pleading urgency.
"I will make sure my older sisters smell so lovely," she begged, her voice thick with emotion. "Even the flower beds of Manchurin wouldn't compare to them. I promise, Madam, even Madam Rei of the Flower House won't be able to compete with you."
Madam Baran cleared her throat, pausing for a moment as she took in the girl's desperate plea. Then, with a heavy sigh, she straightened, her posture commanding and stern.
"Fine," she said, her voice softer but still laced with authority. "I will turn a blind eye to this. But remember, if you're ever caught, don't involve me in this. I won't save you again."
Leila's heart leaped in her chest, and she nodded, her eyes welling up with tears of relief. "Thank you so much, Madam. I won't forget this."
Madam Baran's expression softened just slightly, though her gaze remained sharp. "You said you'll make the girls smell like flowers…" she began, her eyebrows twitching in thought. Leila nodded eagerly, a smile tugging at the corners of her lips.
"Then do you have one for me?" Madam Baran asked.