The Merchant’s Warning

Lyra had not expected to see the wanderer again. After that night with the candle, she felt a sense of dread whenever she thought of him—of the strange, cursed objects he sold and the ominous warning he had given her. The more she reflected on her vision, the more she realized how little she understood about what she had seen. The vision of the hall, the cliff, her father’s distant words—they all seemed like pieces of a puzzle she couldn’t quite put together.

Still, despite the confusion and unease, there was something about the merchant that kept drawing her in. She needed answers. Was the future really set in stone? Could she change it? Was there any hope of escaping the fate that the candle seemed to have shown her?

So, the next morning, after a restless night, she set out to find him.

The town of Dunwick was small, and the wanderer’s stall had been easy to find the first time. But when she arrived at the marketplace, she found that his stall was gone. Her heart sank. Perhaps he had already moved on, as mysterious travelers often did. Or perhaps she was too late—he had already vanished, just as quickly as he had appeared.

Determined, Lyra wandered the streets, asking anyone who might know where the merchant had gone. The townspeople were hesitant to speak of him, exchanging nervous glances whenever his name was mentioned. The only thing they knew was that he had passed through once before, selling his strange candles, but no one had ever seen him leave.

After hours of searching, just as she was about to give up, Lyra stumbled upon a small alleyway on the edge of town. There, in the shadow of a tall stone building, was the wanderer’s stall, now abandoned but for a single candle resting on the counter—the crimson candle that she had bought.

Her heart raced as she approached. The candle was still warm to the touch, though the merchant was nowhere to be seen. There were no signs, no banners—only the faint scent of wax and something that felt like magic in the air.

“Looking for something?” a voice called out from behind her.

Lyra turned sharply. Standing in the shadows was the merchant, his dark hood still obscuring most of his face. Despite his absence from the marketplace, he had somehow known she would come.

“Why do you hide?” Lyra asked, her voice a mix of frustration and curiosity. “Why do you sell these candles if you know what they do?”

The merchant stepped forward, his movements slow, deliberate. “I don’t hide,” he replied softly, his voice carrying a weight of sorrow. “I simply live where fate leads me. And as for the candles, they are not what you think.”

Lyra felt a surge of anger, but she quickly suppressed it. “Then tell me what they are. What do they really do? What is this curse you keep speaking of?”

The merchant sighed, his shoulders sagging as though the weight of the world rested upon them. “You know what they do. You felt it, didn’t you? The moment the flame flickered, the vision... it was not your imagination. But it’s not the vision itself that is dangerous.” He paused, eyes narrowing as he studied her. “It is the choice that comes after.”

Lyra frowned. “Choice? What do you mean?”

He reached into his cloak and pulled out a small, delicate box. It was carved with intricate designs, each detail seeming to shift as he turned it in his hands. “These candles,” he continued, “show a path, a possible future. But once the flame burns out, the path is no longer just a possibility. It becomes your fate. You can’t unsee what you’ve seen. The moment you light it, you accept that future, whether you like it or not.”

Lyra’s heart pounded. She had thought she had control—she had believed that knowing the future might give her power over it. But now, as the merchant’s words settled in her mind, she understood: the future was not a gift. It was a chain.

“So, what happens when it burns out?” she asked, her voice barely a whisper.

“The choice is gone,” the merchant replied. “You will find yourself walking that path, whether you wish to or not. The future is set, and the candles force you to follow it. Those who have bought them before you have tried to fight it, to change it. But none have succeeded. They are drawn toward what they fear, what they desire. And in doing so, they seal their own fates.”

Lyra felt a shiver run down her spine. She thought back to the vision—the distant future she had seen, where she stood alone, surrounded by strangers, holding something in her hand. It had been so vivid, so real. Had it already been decided for her? Could she even change it?

She stepped back, her mind whirling with questions. “But you sell these knowing the consequences. Why? Why do you do it?”

The merchant’s expression darkened. “I didn’t choose this. I didn’t ask for the curse that binds me to this task. But now, I have no choice. I can’t escape it. I can’t stop others from buying the candles. I can’t stop them from seeking the truth, no matter how much it destroys them.”

Lyra felt a pang of sympathy for the man, though she still couldn’t fully understand. “So, you’re trapped. But I’m not. I don’t have to buy another candle. I don’t have to play this game.”

The merchant’s eyes locked onto hers. “No, you don’t. But be careful. Once you know the future, you’ll never be able to live in the present again. You’ll always be searching for what comes next, always haunted by the choices you didn’t make.”

Lyra swallowed hard. The weight of the decision seemed impossible to bear. She could feel the pull of the unknown, the lure of seeing more. But she also knew the cost.

“What happens if I destroy the candle?” she asked, her voice quiet but resolute.

The merchant shook his head slowly. “The curse cannot be undone. Even if you destroy the candles, their power remains. And the path you’re meant to walk will find you, in the end.”

Lyra turned away from him, the words heavy in her chest. She couldn’t unsee the future she had glimpsed, but now she understood the danger. There was no simple answer. No way to stop the curse once it was in motion.

As she walked away, she looked back over her shoulder, the merchant’s shadow lingering in the alleyway, watching her. And for the first time, Lyra realized that she wasn’t just running from the future—she was running toward it.

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