Mystic Artifact sits in the palm of a careful scavenger, a weight that speaks of quiet age. The object is small, roughly the size of a coin pouch, yet its surface is a living map: a smooth, glassy shell of tea-dark stone, veined with electric blue lines that trace tiny constellations. The edges are rounded, worn by time, and when you run your fingers over it you feel a faint tremor, a heartbeat like distant thunder. Tilt it to the light and the runes carved along its rim flicker—not in language so much as memory—and a pale glow breathes from within, as if something inside is listening to your breath. Some say it smells faintly of rain and old campfire, a scent that conjures night markets and last chances. Legends whisper that this is not merely stone but a living record of a forgotten order—the Archivists of the Shimmering Gate—who etched their knowledge into the Mystic Artifact, binding a moment of their oath into the crystalline heart. When pressed against skin or laid atop a mage’s sigil, the artifact hums, offering glimpses of a memory not your own. Travelers keep it close, hoping to read a hint of a lost route or to catch a thread that leads to a hidden cache tucked away in some ruined keep. In practice, the artifact is prized for its pliable power. Within the Mystic Forge, it serves as a potent catalyst: it can stabilize volatile imprints, coax unused runes to awaken, or align a weapon’s traits with a legend you wish to chase. When paired with the right companions—an old sigil, a shard of remnant ore from a guarded raid—the artifact reveals a path to a higher-tier outcome, a tempered version of gear that feels almost alive. The more you learn to balance patience and courage, the more it grants: a subtle boost to memory-linked outcomes, a chance at a bright roll on a set of crafted trinkets, or the option to seal a memory-bound property into a piece of equipment, granting the wearer a mercy of past burdens. On a busy city street, a merchant’s stall purrs with the soft thrum of similar curios. The best units carry their own stories—a bite from a relic of a long-vanished caravan or the sigh of a hymning archivist. The price is never fixed; it shifts with the mood of merchants and the weight of the memory contained within. Those who prefer a safer route can check Saddlebag Exchange, a bustling market where buyers and sellers barter, sometimes trading notes with a copper coin, other times with a tale of fortune. There, a Mystic Artifact might fetch a tidy sum or trade hands for rare components, depending on its aura and the buyer’s willingness to chase a memory long enough to coax it forward. Carried from one quarter to another, the artifact binds a present to a past—a small, patient monument that keeps whispering, urging the next reader to listen and to try again.