The streets of Clarises bustled with late evening activity, lanterns glowing softly against the encroaching twilight. Merchants packed up their stalls while townsfolk hurried home, eager to escape the creeping chill of night.
Layla, Mary Ann, and Raziel moved through the cobbled streets with practiced ease, their worn cloaks blending into the flow of travelers. Despite their unassuming appearances, there was a subtle air of purpose in their steps.
"Are you sure about this inn?" Layla asked, her eyes scanning the darkening streets with wary precision.
Mary Ann nodded confidently. "The Silver Hearth is the finest in Clarises. The innkeeper is... accommodating, so long as he believes we come with power."
Layla said nothing but silently assessed the rows of buildings ahead. Soon, the familiar creak of an old wooden sign caught her eye.
