I felt Alvin Ward's eyes burning into my back as I stood in the crowded auction hall. His murderous intent was almost tangible, though I couldn't understand why. We had barely exchanged words before today, yet the hatred radiating from him felt deeply personal.
"Final call for uncut stones," the auctioneer announced, pulling me from my thoughts.
I sighed, disappointed. After examining dozens of specimens, I hadn't found a single one worth bidding on. The truly promising ones had been claimed by buyers with deeper pockets than mine.
"Moving on to rare herbs," the auctioneer continued, gesturing to an attendant who carefully brought forward several small display cases.
My breath caught as I recognized several legendary specimens—Ghost Root, Nine-Lives Fungus, Starfall Petals—herbs so rare that most alchemists only read about them in ancient texts. Even with my extensive knowledge as an elder of the Celestial Apothecary Guild, I'd only worked with a few of these in my lifetime.
