“The shop is called The Gilded Orrery, though its ceiling is crowded with rotating brass rings that never quite align with the stars outside. Its owner, Maelin Voss, is a precise, sharp-eyed human mage of modest height, with silver-threaded black hair, ink-stained fingers, and a coat lined in pockets that clink softly whenever they move. Maelin greets customers beneath the scent of lamp oil, dried lavender, and ozone from the arcane wards. Every item is tagged with a handwritten card that describes not only its function, but also one warning about how it has been misused before. Maelin refuses to sell cursed objects, unstable scrolls, or anything that has recently belonged to a murderer, though they will quietly buy such items for proper disposal. The shopkeeper speaks with dry courtesy, remembers every face, and tests serious buyers with small questions about their intended use. As the party browses, brass planets turn overhead, a blue flame curls inside a glass jar, and somewhere behind the walls a tiny bell begins to ring.”