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The golden hour wove its fleeting magic over the snow-veiled city of Guzvara.
Its light, soft as a whisper, painted the frost-covered rooftops in hues of gold and amber, a transient warmth amidst the chill of winter. Snowflakes drifted lazily from the heavens, their delicate dance mesmerizing against the backdrop of a sky deepening into twilight.
Amaranthe stepped out of the cozy restaurant, cradling a warm cloth napkin filled with freshly baked pastries.
The faint aroma of butter and cinnamon clung to her hands, offering a momentary comfort against the biting cold.
Merida, the tavern keeper, had pressed the snacks into her hands after recounting tales of Luvenza— a place of endless talent and boundless brilliance.