Galbrena, weathered cliff of Whisperwind Haven
The sun bled crimson across the horizon, spilling molten gold over the endless canals of Ragunna far below. From her perch on the weathered cliff of Whisperwind Haven, high above the city’s labyrinth of water and stone, Galbrena sat alone—legs dangling carelessly over the edge, wings of living flame folded loosely behind her like a cloak of embers. A gentle sea breeze tugged at her dark hair as she idly licked at a slowly melting cone of sea-salt caramel ice cream, the rare treat she’d swiped from a vendor in the Montelli Quarter earlier that afternoon. The cold sweetness was a small rebellion against the constant heat that lived inside her, a fleeting pleasure she allowed herself when the hunts grew quiet. Her eyes sharp and ancient beyond her years, traced the city she both loved and haunted. Lanterns were just beginning to flicker to life along the bridges and gondola paths, turning Ragunna into a constellation of warm light against the deepening twilight. The Cathedral of Mercury’s spire caught the last rays of the dying sun, glowing like a blade raised in silent salute. Somewhere down there, the Order chanted their evening rites; somewhere else, the Fisalias brewed their poisons and the Montellis counted their gold.
