City of Arvalen, Southern Warehouses
The air in Arvalen smelled of spices and sea salt. It was a vibrant city, built on white stone terraces that descended toward the ocean, with colorful alleys, flower-filled balconies, noisy vendors, and bards on every corner. The streets danced with laughter, markets bustled with life, and children ran freely among floating carpets and enchanted fruits.
Elion appeared with Kael in the center of the main square—a golden flash more discreet than usual, just enough to avoid causing panic. Even so, some pigeons exploded into flight, and an old man dropped his teapot.
Kael took a misstep and looked around, stunned.
"You brought us to... Arvalen?"
"Yes," said Elion, with that carefree tone that indicated either millennial planning or total impulse — you never knew. "Vacation, remember? Sun, good food, and absolutely no one trying to stab us for the time being."
