The streets of Mystveil buzzed with life as the sun dipped lower in the sky. Lunara and I wandered through the bustling roads, our eyes scanning the countless shops and stalls until we came across a quaint inn with a wooden sign swinging gently in the breeze.
Its inscription read The Golden Hearth, framed by delicate carvings of flames and flowers. The inn radiated warmth, its stone-and-wood exterior adorned with blooming flowerpots and glowing lanterns that cast a welcoming light.
"This looks like a good spot,"
I murmured, glancing at Lunara. She nodded, her sapphire eyes calm but watchful. The soft glow of the evening light reflected in her hair, adding to the serene aura she always carried.
