The sun was beginning its slow descent, painting the sky with streaks of amber and crimson as the trio made their way toward the docks. The scent of salt and fish hung thick in the air, mingling with the pungent odor of smoke from the town's many fires. Tristelle's once familiar streets now seemed foreign, each corner a potential trap, each shadow a hiding place for unseen eyes.
Ava's fingers brushed against the rough leather of her satchel, the weight of the Eye a constant reminder of their peril. Luke's voice haunted her, an echo of what they'd lost and what they were fighting to preserve. As she glanced at Jake and Lila, she wondered if they felt it too—the dread that mingled with their shared determination.
