Aquis Vanlur.
Even after three months, the name still rolled in my mind like a tide dragging debris. A place shrouded in mysteries I could neither explain nor fully grasp.
An oceanic civilization carved into the Silver Sea, sprawling coral towers and bridges that gleamed faintly in the filtered light of the deep. A city that felt alive, both wondrous and suffocating.
Its architecture was bizarre, its beauty almost alien. Marble domes shaped like shells, pearl-threaded columns twisting like coral, windows opening directly to the sea.
Schools of fish replaced the flocks of birds, their glimmering scales catching faint rays of light that leaked through the endless blue.
And yet, beneath the spectacle, there was always that taste of rot—the suffocating politics, the quiet discrimination of race, the hushed whispers about the "hag of a million years."
Wannre.
