In the heart of the city, where the sky was cut into fragments by towering buildings and the streets buzzed with a life all their own, a street market sprawled, vibrant and chaotic. Each stall was a universe of colors and textures—hand-woven tapestries, intricate carvings, steaming street food that clung to your clothes with the scent of spice. It was here, amid the hustle, that Layla wandered, her eyes drawn by the glint of something strange.

She was searching, not for anything specific, but for an object that might speak to her, as her grandmother would say. “Let it call you, and you’ll know it’s yours.”

She paused at a small, unassuming stall squeezed between two others selling brass ornaments and herbs. The vendor, an old man whose face was a labyrinth of wrinkles, sat quietly behind an array of curiosities: trinkets, stones, and strange relics Layla couldn’t quite place.

Among the clutter, her eyes locked onto a peculiar item: a coin, larger than any she’d seen before. It wasn’t shiny, but it’s dull copper seemed to pulse with a life of its own. In its center, engraved in fine detail, was a serpent, its body coiled as though guarding something within the coin itself.

Just as her fingers stretched toward it, another hand, slender and dark, reached for the same coin. She snapped her gaze sideways to see a man, around her age, his expression mirroring her surprise.

 

He was tall, with an athletic build, dressed casually but with the hint of someone who wasn’t from around here. His eyes, intense and curious, met hers with a flicker of amusement.

“Looks like we’re both interested in the same thing,” he said, his voice smooth, but with an edge that suggested he wasn’t the type to easily back down.

Layla narrowed her eyes, hand still hovering above the coin. “Hayi, I saw it first.”

“That’s debatable.” His hand didn’t move either. “How about we ask the vendor? Maybe there’s more than one.”

The old man looked up slowly, his gaze shifting between them before shaking his head. “There’s only one coin like this.”

Layla felt her stomach drop. Something in his voice, the way he said it, heavy with meaning, told her this wasn’t just some cheap market trinket.

“Fine,” the man said. “Let’s be civilized about this. Why don’t we take turns flipping it? Whoever wins gets the coin.”

Layla hesitated. “What if it’s too important to leave to chance?”

“Then maybe it’s destiny.” He smiled, but there was something else behind it, something wary. “Or do you have a better idea?”

She glanced down at the coin. It almost seemed to shimmer between them, like it wanted to be picked up, to be claimed. Reluctantly, she nodded.

“Deal.”

He grinned and gestured for her to take it first. Layla’s fingers closed around the cold, heavy coin, and as soon as her skin touched it, she felt a jolt—a flash of something, an image that darted across her mind too fast to catch.

She glanced at the man, wondering if he’d felt it too. But his expression remained calm, unaffected. Trying to ignore the strange sensation, she tossed the coin into the air. It spun, catching the light in odd ways, before landing in the man’s palm.

“Tails.” He looked disappointed, then nodded toward her. “Your turn.”

Layla’s heart raced as she flipped it again. She couldn’t explain it, but each time the coin left her hand, the world around her seemed to blur slightly. As though the market, the people, the sounds were all slipping away.

“Heads.” Her voice came out hoarse.

Before either of them could react, the coin pulsed in her palm, the serpent engraving seeming to writhe, as if coming to life.

The air grew thick. Layla gasped as her surroundings twisted. The crowded street, the vendor, the market—everything shifted, dissolving into a hazy fog. The stranger’s face, however, stayed in focus, his eyes locked on hers, mirroring her shock.

“What the hell?” he muttered, reaching out instinctively to grab her arm.

Suddenly, they were no longer standing in the market. They were somewhere else entirely.

The world around them was dark, illuminated only by a faint, eerie glow. Tall, jagged mountains surrounded them, and in the distance, a river of black water snaked its way through the barren landscape.

The coin, still in Layla’s hand, burned cold. “Where are we?”

The stranger’s grip tightened on her arm as he scanned their new surroundings. “I don’t know, but this isn’t good.”

Before they could collect their thoughts, the ground beneath them trembled, and from the shadows emerged a figure, cloaked in black, its face hidden beneath a hood.

The figure spoke, its voice low and ancient. “You’ve taken the Serpent’s Coin. Now, you must choose.”

“Choose what?” Layla demanded, her voice trembling despite herself.

The figure’s hood shifted slightly, as if considering. “The coin is a key, but it is also a curse. One of you will be its bearer, bound to protect the serpent’s secret. The other shall be free.”

“Free?” the man echoed, glancing at Layla, confusion flickering in his eyes.

The figure extended a bony hand. “The choice must be made, or the serpent will decide for you.”

Layla’s pulse pounded in her ears. She didn’t know this man—this stranger who’d been pulled into this nightmare alongside her—but she could see the same fear in his eyes that she felt in her chest.

“We can’t choose without knowing what it means,” she said, her voice rising in desperation. “What happens to the bearer?”

The figure was silent for a long moment. “The bearer is bound to the serpent. To carry its burden until another claims the coin. It is a life of isolation, power, and torment.”

The man turned to her, eyes wide. “We’re not doing this. There has to be a way out.”

Layla swallowed hard, feeling the weight of the coin in her hand, as if it had grown heavier with every word. “What if we both refuse?”

The figure’s voice seemed to grow colder, more distant. “Refuse, and you will never return to your world. The choice will be made, whether you will it or not.”

She exchanged a glance with the stranger. She didn’t know him, but somehow, in this moment, they were connected by more than just the coin. She nodded, her decision made.

“I’ll take it,” she said quietly.

The man’s eyes widened in protest, but before he could speak, the figure raised its hand. “So it is done.”

A sharp pain shot through Layla’s chest as the coin fused with her skin, the serpent coiling around her wrist like a living tattoo.

“No!” the man shouted, reaching for her, but it was too late.

The world around them dissolved once more, and in a blink, they were back at the market stall. The bustling sounds of the city returned, as if nothing had changed.

But Layla knew better.

The man stood beside her, breathless and shaken. “Why did you do that?”

She looked down at her wrist, where the serpent now rested, its eyes gleaming with a dark, ancient power. “I had to.”

He stared at her for a long moment before shaking his head. “I don’t even know your name.”

“Layla,” she said softly. “And you?”

“Khaya.”

They stood in silence, the noise of the market swirling around them. Layla could feel the weight of the serpent’s curse, its presence heavy on her soul.

But she also felt something else—a strange sense of purpose, as if she had been destined to carry this burden.

Khaya took a step closer, his voice low. “We’ll find a way to break it. Together.”

Layla nodded, though she wasn’t sure if there was any breaking it. The coin had chosen her, and now, the serpent’s secret was hers to guard.

But maybe, just maybe, she wouldn’t have to do it alone.