The next day at the bustling riverside dock, the atmosphere brimmed with the vibrant energy of a bright and sunny morning, painting the skies with clear blue hues and scarce clouds. However, a persistent overcast gray loomed, attempting to devour the sunlight. The air carried a chilly dampness, accompanied by the distinct scent of water and fish.
On the pier, Azrael stood against the backdrop of the river. His penetrating gaze focused on a distant point downstream, where a steamboat had just embarked on its journey. The black cloak draped over him billowed in the faint breeze, his long hair dancing at its ends. A subtle smirk adorned his lips as he observed Meadow, Isolde, Corwin, Willow, Casper, and Rowan board the steamboat, setting sail.
