Morning came quietly in Barcken, the streets still carrying the faint chill of dawn. The sun crept above the tiled rooftops, casting long beams of light through the crooked alleys, painting the waking town in gold. Luke stretched and yawned as he and Ilyrana stepped out of their rented room, the air filled with the faint scent of bread freshly pulled from ovens and the distant chatter of merchants setting up stalls.
Yesterday's tension lingered faintly in the back of Luke's mind—the shadow of being followed, the uneasy weight of Rashid's questions—but today was practical. They had left the market in a hurry the day before, grabbing only what they could easily carry without slowing themselves down. The heavier goods, the items that would burden them for their journey, had been left for another time. And now, with the streets bustling anew and the sense of urgency somewhat lifted, this was that time.
