As the morning sun crested the horizon, casting a golden hue over the landscape, Luke and Karrigan resumed their journey, the carriage wheels creaking rhythmically on the well-trodden path. The early hours were passed quietly, with the soft murmur of the wind in the trees and the distant calls of birds providing a peaceful soundtrack. But just as the city of Laiken came into view, Karrigan's demeanour shifted, his expression growing more serious.
"Laiken is Antinoirist," Karrigan warned, his voice low but firm. He glanced at Luke, who sat beside him on the carriage seat, his usual calm expression not betraying his unease at the warning. "They're not fond of Noirists, and with all the talk about you being the Godsend, they might not take kindly to your presence."
Luke nodded, his thoughts briefly flickering back to the robe stowed away, its symbolic weight hidden but still very much a part of him.
