Luthadel's Silent Pulse

The streets of Luthadel stretched before them, cloaked in shifting waves of mist that curled and slithered through the air like restless spirits. Though the arcane wards lining the noble districts flickered defiantly, attempting to hold back the encroaching fog, they were imperfect. At times, the mist slipped through in thin, spectral tendrils, forcing the city's denizens to adjust their hoods or pull their cloaks tighter.

Mikhailis walked leisurely at the center of the group, hands tucked in his coat pockets, his sharp gaze flicking between the passing figures. This city operated on whispers and wary glances—information didn't flow through loud boasts or public declarations but in the subtle flick of fingers, coded nods, and the quiet transactions carried out behind closed curtains.