Saved

Manco and Shelia moved through Thornridge's dimly lit streets, their footsteps muffled against the damp cobblestones. The city's life had retreated with the sun, leaving only scattered lanterns casting their meager glow on the alleys. The scent of wet stone mingled with wood smoke, and somewhere distant, a dog barked—a lone, hollow sound swallowed by the dark. 

Shelia pulled her cloak tighter around her shoulders, her sharp eyes flickering toward every shadow. "Feels like the city's holding its breath," she murmured. 

Manco nodded, keeping his voice low. "It always does when the serpents start to slither." 

They moved carefully, sticking to the edges of buildings where the light failed to reach. Thornridge had changed in the months since the Crimson Serpent Sect had seized control. Gone were the nights of calm taverns and lantern-lit markets. Now, only silence reigned—the kind that bred whispers of rebellion and the weight of conquest.