Edda follows a rumour down past the last lit street of Halewick, into the Drownmarket: a black bazaar in the drowned deep where the forgotten are bought, sold, and buried a second time.
Here the order’s grim mercy starts, sickeningly, to make sense. Here the people who defy it are no cleaner than the ones they fight. And here, on a back row no one will point her to, someone is trading in fragments of a truth about Edda herself, older and worse than anything the Sextons have told her.
She came for an answer. The Drownmarket only sells her better questions.
