The next morning, Raven's bar was still bathed in soft twilight, with the smell of old wood, roasted coffee, and a faint aroma of magical herbs floating in the air. The soft soundtrack of enchanted strings played quietly in the background, the kind of music that made time seem to slow down. The sun had barely touched the rooftops of the Upper City, and the silence was almost reverent at that sacred hour when the drunks had already left and the hunters were still recovering from their early morning missions.
Kael slowly descended the stairs, his hair still slightly messy and his eyes half-closed, betraying a night of poor sleep—or not much sleep at all. His black tunic was wrinkled, and a reddish mark on his neck almost looked like the work of a hungry beast. He adjusted his collar, trying to cover it up, but it was useless.
