The Golden Sun City stretched out before him like a jewel carved from light itself. Its walls gleamed with a warm, almost metallic luster, each brick etched with faint holy runes that pulsed in rhythm with the sun above. Tall spires reached into the sky, crowned with golden banners that swayed lazily in the wind. The air smelled faintly of incense and fresh bread from nearby market stalls.
Rhys stepped forward, boots clicking against the polished stone road. Guards in radiant armor stood at the gate, their shields engraved with the emblem of the Sun God—a blazing halo surrounding a single, unblinking eye. They barely spared him a glance; the teleportation seal on his wrist marked him as a permitted traveler.
Inside, the city was alive with movement. Merchants hawked rare wares beneath silk canopies, street performers twirled flaming batons, and paladins in white and gold strode past on patrol. The sound of distant bells echoed through the streets, announcing the hour.
