Victor and Evelyn arrived in Bastion as evening set in, fog curling through the city streets like ghostly fingers. Bastion was a place of shadows and secrets, a city where the high stone buildings leaned close, as if whispering to one another. The streets were packed with people who hurried past, huddled in dark coats and hats, their faces hidden and their business clearly private.
The city smelled of smoke and wet stone, with a faint metallic scent in the air. Flickering gas lamps cast yellow pools of light that struggled to cut through the mist, making everything seem even more mysterious. From a distance, the hum of machinery mixed with the shouts of street vendors selling everything from bread to mysterious trinkets. Bastion was a city caught in an uneasy blend of progress and shadowy tradition.
