Mistbound Machinations

The streets of Luthadel stretched before them, veiled in shifting waves of mist that curled and slithered through the air like unseen specters. The city was a paradox—grand in its towering obsidian spires, yet suffocating in its atmosphere. The mist was ever-present, sometimes held at bay by flickering arcane wards, other times slipping through cracks in the barriers, seeping into alleyways and gathering in ghostly pools at the edges of the cobbled roads. It wasn't thick enough to blind them, but enough to make everything feel just a little too distant, a little too obscured.