The slums lay behind them like a rotting memory as Ethan, Reyna, and Daniel moved into the wider streets, the air easing from the thick stink of sewage into the cool breeze sweeping between crooked rooftops.
The morning light broke through ragged clouds, glinting off rooftops patched with tin and rotting planks.
Ethan walked a little ahead of them, dark coat flowing behind him, eyes narrowed in thought. He felt the weight of the day pressing on his shoulders, every instinct in his body humming with quiet tension.
Reyna trudged along beside Daniel, arms crossed, giant sword bobbing on her back with each step. Daniel's grey eyes were low, his mind still reeling from the truth Ethan had shown him the night before.
They passed a market where vendors shouted half-heartedly to passing customers. A child darted past them, clutching a stolen apple, chased by a butcher roaring curses. Ethan barely glanced at it—his mind was locked on bigger problems.
