The night was alive.
A soft wind drifted through the Grand Avenue of Vherosia, carrying with it the faint hum of lanternfire and the crisp scent of fresh dew upon black cobblestones. A lone carriage, polished obsidian with silver trimmings, rolled slowly down the wide street. Its glass windows glimmered in the crimson light pouring down from the Red Moon, a constant, unwavering eye that had watched over this world for as long as any could remember. The wheels clacked rhythmically, like a beating heart within a world that had long outgrown the concept of day.
