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Saturday, October 1st, 2253 - 9:30 am

The Mystical Menagerie.

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Jeremiah crouched behind the talisman display case, tongue caught lightly between his teeth, as he traced one final, careful crimson stroke along the inner frame. The Twin Boundary pen slid across the wood with a faint, metallic whisper, leaving no visible ink—only a delicate shimmer perceptible to himself and the System alone. As the ends of the line seamlessly connected, a gentle pulse rippled through his fingertips, a fleeting sensation of cool electricity that faded swiftly into silence.

Jeremiah let out a slow breath, a mixture of pride and relief filling his chest, and rocked back onto his heels. Golden-amber rays from the early morning sun spilled through the wide windows, painting the shop with a soft, almost dreamlike glow. Dust motes danced lazily through the air like tiny, languid fireflies, caught in gentle spirals by invisible currents. For a brief moment, he simply absorbed the tranquil beauty of his surroundings, feeling a rare sense of peace settle warmly around him.

His eyes drifted across the tidy rows of shelves, each carefully arranged, their polished surfaces gleaming warmly in the soft morning light. Here and there, he noticed faint shimmering lines, ephemeral barriers visible only at the edges of his perception—a subtle latticework of cerulean and crimson that he had woven meticulously throughout the shop over the past few hours. He found he could effortlessly shift his mental focus to fade or enhance their visibility, though for now, he was content simply to marvel at the fruits of his careful labor.

The early sunlight sketched delicate outlines around the nearly invisible barriers guarding the windows and the rear storage entrance. These lines of crimson shimmered gently when viewed from just the right angle, marking a boundary no unwanted guest could cross. Conversely, gentle trails of cerulean outlined secure spaces where customers could freely examine more valuable items, but where merchandise would remain safely tethered within his control until assistance was offered.

Jeremiah's gaze drifted to the puppies tumbling across the cafe floor, and a satisfied grin touched his lips. Marking their collars had been a sudden burst of inspiration, resulting in an invisible fence that now allowed the playful pups newfound freedom to roam safely between their enclosure, the cafe, and behind the front counter without worry. Tosh rolled and sprang happily across the wooden floorboards, chasing after Tish, who dashed exuberantly towards the pastry display — only to bounce harmlessly off an unseen barrier. She stumbled back, blinking in confusion, then pawed indignantly at the air, yipping her protest. Tosh joined in with supportive barks, but the boundary held firm. There would be no puppies where the muffins lived.

Jeremiah chuckled softly, warmth spreading through him at the comical scene. The Twin Boundaries had exceeded his expectations, and pride flickered brightly within him. Today felt like a victory — small, perhaps, but meaningful. It was another tangible step toward ensuring that the Mystical Menagerie became the haven he'd always envisioned.

Jeremiah allowed himself a grin. "Play safe, you two," he murmured, tucking the red pen into the new breast pocket of his Regalia. With a thought he summoned its twin; the blue pen winked into existence, warm as a heartbeat in his palm before he dismissed it again. Every time the trick worked it felt like cheating.

A tired bark drifted from the beside the counter. Milo — dignified, even half-asleep — watched the puppies cavort with long-suffering patience. In Sissy's enclosure, the kittens formed a fuzzy heap, their mother dozing on the high ledge, one eye slit just enough to monitor the canine chaos. Billy floated in his bowl atop the counter, golden eyes following Jeremiah with unblinking interest, tentacles tapping the glass as if applauding his handiwork.

He was just tucking the pens into his new vest pocket when the bell above the front door chimed, clear and bright. He started, already calling out, "Sorry, we're closed for the weekend—"

The words snagged in his throat as he turned, blinking at the figure silhouetted in the doorway. Samantha Wood stood with one booted foot across the threshold, hands stuffed in the pockets of her battered canvas jacket. Her grin was pure mischief.

"Closed, huh?" she drawled, eyebrow arched. "Guess I'll just turn around and let myself out, then?"

"Sam!" Jeremiah's voice cracked in surprise as he hurriedly stepped aside, gesturing with an awkward flourish toward the cafe nook. "I—no, sorry, come on in. I didn't mean—"

"To leave me hanging all week?" Sam cut in, her tone all feigned offense, though her crooked smile gave her away. She strolled inside with easy confidence, pausing long enough to scratch Milo behind the ears. "Because I'm pretty sure you promised me an update. But hey, it's fine, really. It's only been, what, five whole days, Jeremiah."

Jeremiah's cheeks flushed. He fumbled the door shut, glancing down in sheepish apology. "I know, I know. You're right. I'm sorry, Sam. This week's been… honestly, it's been kind of a blur. Everything just kept piling up, and I lost track of — well, just about everything."

Sam's laughter rolled through the shop, bright and genuine, chasing away the tightness in Jeremiah's shoulders. She waved him off, unbuttoning her worn jacket before collapsing into one of the cafe nook's battered armchairs. "Relax, Jer. I figured as much. And, if I'm honest," she added, a sly sparkle in her eyes, "I was counting on it. Gives me the perfect excuse to swing by and snoop on your progress."

Jeremiah's mouth quirked into a real smile, relief flickering in his gaze as he claimed the seat opposite hers. On the counter, Billy whirled in his bowl, tentacles swirling in a bright burst of welcome, his golden eyes fixed on Sam.

Sam stretched out her legs, boots propped against the table's edge. Her gaze wandered the shop, lingering on neat rows of supplies, the sunlit nook, and the puppies still barking indignantly at the invisible barrier in front of the pastries. Her eyes finally came to rest on Jeremiah, her curiosity plain, and softer, more genuine warmth blooming in her expression.

"Seriously, though," she said, voice low and honest, "this place looks incredible. You've done a hell of a job. I've had my ears to the Crossroads all week. Didn't expect to hear so many people talking about the 'cozy little pet shop behind Sally's' on my way here."

Jeremiah snorted. "Now you're exaggerating."

"Maybe a little," she admitted, her smirk returning. "But only a little. Point is, you're clearly on the right track. Sarah would've loved to see this place, Jer."

At his sister's name, Jeremiah's smile wavered for just a moment — bittersweet and raw — but he straightened, holding Sam's gaze. Her words left a warmth inside him that ached and comforted at once. "Thanks, Sam. That means more than you know."

For a heartbeat, Sam just watched him, something thoughtful flickering behind her eyes. Then she leaned forward, elbows braced on her knees, hands laced together. "Alright then," she teased, the old mischief creeping back, "aside from ghosting your best friend, what's been keeping you so busy all week? Discovered any dark System secrets you can tell me yet, or are you still just trying to keep those furballs from eating the furniture?"

Jeremiah let out a rueful laugh. "A little of both, honestly."

Jeremiah's laugh faded into a sheepish smile. "Mostly just hoping the place survives," he admitted, though the words carried a brightness they wouldn't have a week ago. He glanced past Sam's playful scowl to the sun-drenched enclosure by the window, where Sissy sprawled atop her perch, her tail hanging lazily over the edge as she watched the street's slow morning stir.

"Actually," he said, pride slipping into his voice, "you'll appreciate this — Sissy's doing a lot better. Still spicy, but I think we've come to an understanding." He nodded toward the enclosure just as Sissy cracked open a single amber eye at the sound of her name, the sharp glint in her gaze softened by the patch of sunlight warming her fur. "She even lets me check the kittens now. Sometimes."

Sam's eyes widened with genuine delight. "Get out. Sissy? Letting someone near her babies without drawing blood?"

"I was surprised too," Jeremiah replied with mock solemnity. "But honestly? It was Sarah's System that did most of the heavy lifting."

Sam gave a skeptical smirk. "Somehow I doubt that. I don't care what this 'System' can do — a good mama like Sissy wouldn't let anyone near those fur beans unless she trusted you. At least a little."

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Jeremiah scratched his cheek, a faint flush rising. "Maybe. But still, it would've taken me ages without its help. Plus, it came with some… interesting side benefits."

"Oh?" Sam arched an eyebrow, curiosity sharpening her tone. "Like what?"

Jeremiah straightened, rolling the tension from his shoulders as he gestured for Sam to follow him to the talisman display case. "Come here. I want to show you something."

She trailed after him, interest written across her face. Jeremiah unlocked the glass case and, with careful hands, pulled a small array of talismans from the velvet mat. Each card caught the light differently — Sissy's Cat Nap shimmered with a gentle, golden glow, Milo's Old Soul glinted with soft blue, and Maddie's Minor Floramancy was etched with wild, leafy green. At the end of the row, he placed his newest prize: Billy's Ten-tacles.

Like Maddie's, Billy's talisman stood out from the more 'mundane' ones — crafted from what looked like weathered parchment, its edges curling and mottled as though dried by sun and salt. A thin film of sand clung stubbornly to its surface as if it had washed up from some distant shore. The calligram inscribed upon it showed a human hand caught mid-transformation, fingers unfurling into elegant, curling tentacles.

Jeremiah watched as Sam leaned in, her eyes wide and intent, hands hovering over the talismans as though afraid even a whisper might disturb their delicate magic. "What are these?" she breathed, wonder threading through her voice.

"The System calls them 'Beast Talismans'. I'm still learning about them myself, but as far as I can tell, each contains a minor, but innate magic tied to the creatures that the System lets me attune to."

Sam's eyes snapped to Jeremiah. "So you

made

these? They're not just something you found in this fancy System Store of yours?" she asked. There was a note of disbelief, edged with excitement.

Jeremiah nodded, pride coloring his tone. "Made right here. The selection's small for now, but I'm working on expanding it. Some are straightforward, some are a little… unconventional." He offered a crooked grin. "They're not on the same level as something like the magic scrolls you'd find in Central, but they're accessible, easy to use… and cheap." He gestured at the tidy row of prices labeled beside each card.

Sam picked up the Cat Nap talisman, rolling it between her fingers as she traced the curling feline runes. "Jer, these are gorgeous," she murmured. "Seriously, if you're actually making these, and they're as affordable as you say…" She shook her head, marveling. "You have no idea. Single-use wards go for three times this in the Lower Quarters." She angled the card toward the light, watching the runes glimmer. "Limited use or not, things like this don't gather dust. Magic items are always in demand — especially the kind folks don't have to mortgage their souls to get."

She shot him a wry grin. "Not that a little decent tech can't compete. But people get stars in their eyes for the mystical."

Jeremiah's ears pinked at the praise, and he ducked his head with a self-conscious smile. "You think so? I keep waiting for someone to ask what the catch is, or start a riot when they realize there isn't one."

Sam arched a brow, half-teasing, half-sincere. "There's always a catch. But if these do what you say, you're going to have a line out the door. Maybe two."

Sam's smile faded as she swept another glance around the sunlit shop. Her gaze lingered on the front windows, the neat rows of shelves, and finally the talisman display case, before landing on the simple-looking cameras dotting the ceiling. Concern crept into her features, smoothing away her earlier playfulness. "Jeremiah, you realize these could make you a target, right? Something like this — affordable magic, easy to use — there's plenty of desperate folks who wouldn't think twice about breaking in, especially once word spreads." Her voice was gentle, but edged with warning.

Jeremiah lifted his hands, feigning innocence. "Hey, give me some credit. I didn't leave the vault door open."

Sam leveled a flat look at him, unimpressed. "Not funny, Jeremiah." She leaned closer, dropping her voice to a whisper. "If the wrong people get wind of this, you'll have bigger problems than neighborhood kids stealing snacks."

She jabbed a finger at the display. "You need proper security, Jeremiah. Not just locks and cameras — something that'll actually keep the animals safe, too. Some thief isn't going to care what they break, or who they hurt, so long as they get what they want."

The smile on Jeremiah's lips widened into a full-on smirk. "Funny you should mention security. That was the first thing I upgraded this morning." He reached out and flicked his wrist. In a blink, the Twin Boundaries appeared between his fingers — cerulean and crimson gleaming like hidden jewels.

Sam raised a brow, her posture instantly sharpening with interest. "Those are new. But pens? I'm not sure I follow."

He grinned. "Just watch." He uncapped the crimson pen and, with a deft touch, tapped the tip to the base of each talisman. "Go on. Try to take one out."

Sam eyed him skeptically, then reached into the display case and picked up one of the talismans. As her hand neared the edge, however, the talisman struck an invisible barrier and refused to move another inch, as if glued in place by something more stubborn than physics.

She blinked. Sam grabbed the talisman with both hands and tugged, going so far as to place one foot against the display for leverage. No matter how she tried, however, the talisman refused to budge.

She frowned, lips pursed in concentration, and tried another talisman — and met with the same silent resistance. Each attempt ended the same: the cards held fast, refusing to cross the unseen boundary. When she finally released her grip, the talisman settled back onto the velvet, like nothing had happened at all.

Sam pulled her hand back and stared at the display, then at Jeremiah, a delighted spark lighting in her eyes. "Okay, that's… impressive." She grinned, all traces of caution swept aside by open curiosity. "Let me see those pens."

Sam wasted no time, snatching the pens from his hand with nimble fingers, her gaze sharp and appraising. "Hold on. Let's see what these are really made of." She rummaged through her jacket and produced a compact sensor slate — sleek and battered, the sort of tool Jeremiah remembered Sarah using countless times. The scanner flickered to life in her palm, casting a cool wash of light over the pens.

She swept the slate over the Twin Boundaries, pausing as the device's screen shimmered with a mesh of blue and green graphs. Her eyes narrowed, lips pursing as she absorbed the readings. "Dream and Wyrd signatures… layered in a way I've not seen before. Huh." She flipped the scanner, scanning the rest of the marked frame, frowning deeper. "You do realize these are built on principles you don't see much outside of the Hitherlands, right? Not in this part of Reliquum. How did you even get your hands on them?" She shot him a sidelong glance.

Jeremiah only grinned, pushing off the case and folding his arms with a casual air. "Same place as most things around here."

Sam blinked, then shook her head. "That System Store of yours again, huh? How does that even work? Sarah might have been a genius, but these," she held up one of the pens, "don't feel like her work."

Jeremiah's gaze drifted to the window, watching morning light break across Market Street. "Honestly, Sam, I wish I had better answers. Sometimes I wonder if I'm even supposed to understand it. All I know is, Sarah — or the people she convinced to invest in the System — did more than just code an online storefront. This is too big for any one person. I wish you could see the catalogs. It's like there's an entire supply chain at work, invisible and impossible. Mero keeps saying the System wants Marks to be the new universal standard. For trade, for magic, for everything. And I think that wasn't an exaggeration. The network running beneath all this must be huge. It's overwhelming just thinking about it."

Sam listened, her scanner hanging forgotten in her hand, brow furrowing as she considered his words. "That would explain a lot. Still, you'd think something this… comprehensive would have tripped some alarm bells by now. I mean, if there's a logistics network working at this scale, it's the sort of thing I'd usually have heard about."

Jeremiah shrugged, lips quirking. "According to Mero, most people involved don't know what they're actually a part of. Just another contract or opportunity. Nobody sees the whole picture."

Sam nodded, tapping her scanner absently against her knee. "I see. It would explain what I've been able to find out as well."

He cocked his head, curiosity sharpening his expression. "What do you mean?"

A slow grin spread across Sam's face. "Those Omni-crates you sold me? Lifesavers, by the way. I owe you coffee for those." She slipped her scanner into a pocket, eyes bright. "I got nosy. The dimensional folding tech in them isn't the kind you see here on Nexus. So I started looking around, trying to find out who made them. Checked every retailer on Nexus, even hit up some specialist tech forums in the next system over. No one had ever heard of them."

She leaned in, lowering her voice. "And I mean no one. I even asked a couple of my shadier contacts — the types who can get you just about anything if the price is right. Nothing. It's like the crates never existed here at all."

Jeremiah's eyebrows lifted. "So they're that rare?"

"That's the thing," Sam replied, voice gaining speed with excitement. "They're not rare everywhere. Turns out, if you dig deep enough into some old magical trade logs, there's chatter about them on the far side of Reliquum. A handful of magical worlds over there use them all the time — standard issue for capturing minor magical beasts. They're regulated to hell and back, too, because the local wildlife is… a bit more 'aggressive' than you get on Nexus. But here?" She let out a short laugh. "Out here though? You couldn't buy one if your life depended on it."

Jeremiah blinked, then let a crooked smile spread across his face. "So you're telling me Sarah was out here quietly hoarding tech from halfway across Reliquum, and getting it dropped on my doorstep like it's next-day delivery?"

Sam laughed, her eyes dancing. "Something tells me it's more complicated than that, but it does make you wonder what exactly it's all for, doesn't it?"

Jeremiah's chuckle was soft, almost nervous, as he glanced away. He could feel Sam's gaze on him, searching for cracks in his composure. They both knew he knew more than he was telling her, and they both knew it was for good reasons, but that didn't make it any less uncomfortable.

The silence that settled between them wasn't awkward, but it buzzed with all the unsaid questions and careful restraint.

Sam nudged him with her shoulder, her voice gentling. "You're doing good work, Jeremiah. Don't let yourself forget it."

He let out a breath, the anxiety ebbing beneath her steady gaze. "I'll try not to," he said softly, then straightened as a flicker of resolve brightened his eyes. "But if I'm going to survive the next week, I think I still got a ways to go."

Sam grinned. "Well said. Now, how about that coffee I owed you?"

Jeremiah blinked and stood. "Ah, sure. I still have some of the beans Sally gave me. Did you want—"

Sam sighed and rolled her eyes before standing and grabbing Jeremiah's sleeve. Before he could protest further, she dragged him toward the store entrance.

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