Gehram, Whiskey Street, Old Harris Pub.
"Snowflakes like embers, dancing with death. I scream through the storm, a flame in despair. The cold doesn't kill—it dares me to care!"
In the pub, sitting in a cage at the center of the room, a short-haired woman sang till her voice turned hoarse, her words echoing off the walls.
"Wohoo!"
"Crimson winter!"
The pub's patrons listened and shouted. Beer spilled on the floor, feet stomped on the floor, and angry laughter broke out.
All the round-shaped tables were filled.
Some were drinking with their friends, some were playing card games, and some were lost in their own thoughts, silently sitting still.
It looked like those sitting still had lost their soul. They weren't smiling or blinking. They just lifted their glasses to their lips and drank.
By the bar, sitting on a high stool, Kael traced his finger across the rim of his glass and stared blankly at the foam that sat on top of his beer.
"Why is that woman sitting inside a cage?"
