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Abby turned to her friends, a smile blooming on her lips. “We came looking for a secret,” she said, “and we found a moment. Let’s keep listening for those moments wherever we go.”

“Look,” Nikolina whispered, pointing to a wooden box etched with intricate patterns. Inside, a collection of tiny glass beads shimmered, each catching the lantern light and scattering it in a hundred directions. “They say each bead holds a story,” she said, her voice hushed, as if the beads might overhear and break. Abby turned to her friends, a smile blooming on her lips

The stalls opened of their own accord. Doors that had been locked swung wide, revealing hidden chambers filled with objects that defied explanation: a compass that pointed toward memories, a tapestry that changed its pattern with each glance, a jar of wind captured in glass. Inside, a collection of tiny glass beads shimmered,