The sun had begun its descent behind the white-stoned rooftops of Valon, painting the sky in soft shades of orange and lilac. A warm summer breeze drifted lazily through the streets, carrying with it the aroma of baked herbs and fresh river air.
Nestled between the merchant quarter and the northern canal was a restaurant simply known as Mirae's, one of the most exclusive dining spots in the capital. That evening, not a single table was occupied—because all of them had been reserved.
By Elyra von Estermont.