The sun barely pierced the soot-colored clouds hanging over the newly renovated capital. The streets buzzed with the noise of merchants shouting, machines clanging, and the thick scent of burnt metal wafting through the air.
Cass led the group through the narrow alleyways behind the eastern district, her movements sure and steady. The others followed behind her, their footsteps echoing against the cracked concrete.
Mara's Forge – Crafts and Gear sat between a laundromat and a café that no one remembered ever opening. The sign above the door was carved metal, hammered into shape rather than printed, with the name etched in a lettering that shimmered faintly under the streetlights. The glass front was dark, a "CLOSED" sign dangling crookedly, but the faint thrum of energy buzzed just under the surface, as if the building itself was holding its breath.
