"These charms are going to save my life, and I'll take the leftovers to the auction, per our usual arrangement."
"Once the money clears, I'll wire it straight to your account."
Quinn winked at Maeve.
"You haven't drawn a single talisman in three years. When The Talisman Sovereign's work hits the block, the prices are guaranteed to double."
As a high-profile figure in The Mystic Realm, Quinn's name carried serious weight across all of Stramont.
He was a regular at underground and exclusive auctions, and the items he brought in always had the elite throwing money at him.
His most famous items were the talismans.
Because the people who bought them saw undeniable, life-changing results.
Those wanting wealth became billionaires.
Those wanting children had twins.
Those on their deathbeds walked out of the hospital perfectly healthy.
Even though the effects only lasted a year, desperate buyers practically fought to the death for a chance to bid.
At first, everyone assumed these miraculous charms were Quinn's handiwork.
Billionaires would track him down privately, offering insane amounts of cash for his work.
But Quinn never lied about it.
He openly told the mystic community that while he was part of the scene, he was absolute garbage at drawing charms.
The ones he sold were drawn by a hidden master.
As for who that master was? No comment.
Eventually, the inner circle gave this mysterious artist a nickname: The Talisman Sovereign.
Even Maeve herself had no idea she had been crowned with the title.
Quinn hadn't bothered to lower his voice while talking to Maeve, completely ignoring Andres and his crew.
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