The air was sharp with morning chill as I made my way toward the cathedral, my boots clicking softly against the pavement.
The streets were quiet at this hour as the city was still rubbing the sleep from its eyes.
Mist curled around the edges of the buildings, reluctant to dissipate under the faint touch of dawn.
I pulled my coat tighter, tucking my hands into its pockets and kept walking.
The spires of the cathedral came into view soon.
Even in the muted light, the building held an aura of reverence. It was perhaps the oldest building in the city, yet it stood as if untouched by time.
And there she was — Alvara.
She stood at the base of the steps, her gray cloak hanging loose around her shoulders, the edges flowing in the faint breeze.
She looked up as I approached, and her expression turned unreadable.
"You're early," I said, breaking the silence. My voice sounded louder than I intended against the quiet morning.
