The sun was setting over Valstrath, painting the ancient city in shades of orange and deep gold as light filtered through the narrow streets and reflected off the weathered stone buildings that had stood for centuries. Satou woke from his rest .
He lay completely still for a long moment, his enhanced senses automatically cataloguing every detail of his surroundings. The room was cast in the warm glow of sunset, shadows long and deep across the wooden floor. Sylvara's breathing came from the other bed—steady, controlled, the rhythm of someone trained to rest efficiently. Outside the window, the sounds of Valstrath's evening activity filtered up from the street below: merchants calling out final sales of the day, the rumble of wagon wheels on cobblestone, the distant laughter from a tavern already filling with early customers, the authoritative voices of city guards changing shifts.
