As the sun dipped behind the desert's tall dunes and the moon's pale glow fought to pierce the darkness, Alkemia Al-Nur sparkled brighter than day.
Pedestrians filled the paved streets, halting to check shops and businesses of a different kind—ones that couldn't operate before children comfortably lay under their blankets and men returned from a day's hard work.
In one of the brightest-lit establishments, a masked man tucked a lock of blond hair behind his ear. He took elegant sips from a glass of fine wine, appreciating the sweet scent of grapes imported from the Western continent.
But he wasn't here to enjoy the relaxing music played from the magical device or the colorful tapestry woven in red, violet, and gold hanging from the walls like standards. Business had to be conducted, and his contact was five minutes late.
