Mia M Dre's Arc

Chapter 5 of 13

The cart turned down a narrow lane, and Mia kept her distance, watching the way the driver checked behind him every few minutes. She counted the turns—left at the fountain, right past the tavern with the green door, straight through the alley where laundry hung between windows. The cart slowed at a tall house with iron gates, and a man stepped out to meet the driver. He wore a coat that marked him as someone with money, and when he reached up to check his pocket, Mia saw it—a flash of gold chain, then the watch itself as he pulled it free to check the time. Her chest went tight. The watch face was covered in elaborate designs, waves and shells worked into the metal, and right at the center was the mark she'd seen a hundred times in her grandmother's letters. The trident crown of the old king, the one who'd ruled the eastern reefs before Mia was born. This buyer wasn't from the surface. He was from her world. Someone below had been feeding the merchant information about her family's collection all along, telling him which pieces to target, which ones carried enough history to be worth stealing. Mia's hands curled into fists. She'd thought recovering the comb would end this, but now she knew—there was someone in her own world she'd have to face when she got home. She moved closer, using the gate's shadow for cover, and watched the driver unload a chest from the cart. The shells worked into its surface caught the light—not just decoration, but a message. The buyer was paying the merchant with pieces from below, trading away their own people's history to collect hers. Mia's grandmother had written about merchants who valued the old pieces, who promised to preserve them. But this buyer knew exactly which pieces mattered to Mia's family. They'd sent letters with shimmer dust. They'd drawn maps of the surface markets, marking where to sell and when. They'd built a business on the land to move between worlds without drawing attention. The chest sat heavy on the ground, and Mia understood—this wasn't just about her family's collection. Someone below had found a way to profit from the surface, and her grandmother's heirlooms were just one thread in a larger pattern. The buyer gestured toward the house, and the driver followed him inside with the chest. Mia stayed where she was, watching the door close. She could follow them in, try to take the comb now. But if she did, the buyer would know someone was tracking the collection. They'd warn whoever they worked with below, and Mia would lose her only advantage—that no one knew she'd followed the cart this far. She needed to see what else was inside that house, what other pieces the buyer had already collected, before they realized she was hunting them. The choice settled into place with the weight of stone. She couldn't go home yet. Not until she knew who had betrayed her family, and what they'd already sold away.