Astheria never sleeps it only shift its mask.
By day, sunlight dances over cobbled plazas where nobles glide in their lacquered carriages and merchants enthusiastically shout their prices at bustling open-air markets.
But as twilight descends, the city transforms. Lanterns flicker low, shadows stretch ominously, and secrets are exchanged faster than gold coins.
In these dark hours, is when Zephyr thrives.
Cloaked in black with his hood pulled low, he glides silently through the labyrinthine alleys of Astheria.
Here, the city's veins pulse not only with blood and wealth but also with whispers, secrets waiting to be uncovered.
And that's exactly what Felix seeks.
---
The rain had ceased earlier that evening, leaving the stones slick and shimmering under fractured strips of moonlight.
Zephyr's boots made no sound as he navigated between narrow walls, following an invisible trail known only to him.
