Oakhaven was a shock to the senses. To Kaelen, it looked like a twisted version of a Victorian industrial city built by people who had never seen a blueprint. Massive stone walls were reinforced with brass pipes that hissed steam into the muddy streets.
"It smells like a funeral," Lyra whispered, pulling her cloak tight.
She was right. The air was thick with soot and the metallic tang of processed Aetheria. People walked with their heads down, their skin a sickly grey. This was the "civilization" Kaelen had heard about—a world trading its soul for the heat of a furnace.
"Stay sharp," Kaelen murmured. "We're not just here to kill a man. We're here to see what they're building."
They moved through the shadows of the market, blending in with the laborers. Kaelen's old-world mind noted the guards.
They didn't carry swords; they carried long, brass-bound staves that glowed with blue energy. These weren't just soldiers; they were "Aether-Infused."