A shadowy figure darted through the streets, alive with nightlife. Tavern signs glowed, ale cups clattered against wooden tables, and drunken women were tossed onto the cobblestones for causing a ruckus.
The brothel doors were open to men and women alike. A sickly-sweet haze of powder and perfume hung in the air, and men with barely buttoned shirts flaunting their chests tugged passing women inside.
The figure looked enviously at the living, but the emotions were fleeting; he had something important to do right now. The figure soared higher to the sky castle where the queen lives.
Passing through the dome covering the castle, he brushed past the guards and went through the walls in search of Elora's room before stopping in front of a simple but elegant chamber.
Inside, Elora's arms were tossed carelessly over the covers, her chest rising and falling as she slept soundly.
