Azurefall had transformed.
The city, once defined by the elegant white spires of the Academy and the smell of the sea, had become a chaotic tapestry of the world's magic. Every street corner, every plaza, every rooftop was claimed by a different banner.
The air hummed with a discordant symphony of power. The rhythmic, heavy tick-tock of the Clockwork Mages' brass automatons marched in lockstep through the lower districts, their steam vents hissing in time. High above, the pale, ethereal witches of the Glacial Spire floated on discs of sheer ice, looking down at the sweltering streets with cold disdain. And moving through the crowds like mirages were the Sand-Walkers of the Dune Sea, their crimson robes shifting color with the light, their footsteps leaving no sound on the cobblestones.
Squad 7 moved through the throng, an island of grim blue in a sea of foreign colors.
They weren't sightseeing. They were assessing threats.
