"So, this is Izaar..."
Rosalie gracefully unveiled herself, casting off the hood of her long, dark green cloak, and her eyes widened in wonder. As her consciousness seamlessly merged with Meiling's, distinguishing between the vivid memories she held and the details from the books she had devoured in the past became an intricate task.
Every facet of her surroundings exuded enchantment. The journey from the very instant they crossed the border to the gradual halt of their horse in Azarain, the Grand Capital of Izaar, felt like a seamless transition between strikingly different realms.
