The Crownless City did not sleep.
It groaned—its breath a mechanical death rattle, exhaled through the cracked pipes of towers forged from rust and ruin. Iron screamed softly beneath the weight of age and corrosion, groaning like old bones beneath skin stretched too thin. The streets, paved with stone scavenged from the ruins of greater civilizations, were lined with rusted chains, rotting effigies, and the remains of banners that no longer bore names anyone dared speak aloud. Everything in the city was decaying, even the air. It carried the scent of oil and ozone, of forgotten magic curled like smoke in every corner. The sky above was sick with stormlight, churning clouds that held no rain—only threat. Thunder rumbled in the distance like a prophecy waiting for its cue.
This was a city built upon betrayal.
