The streets of Marasva were alive with motion, a chaotic yet somehow synchronized dance of traders, mercenaries, and ordinary citizens. The air carried the faint scent of salt from the ocean mingled with the sharper tang of mana-powered engines. I pulled my hood a little lower as I stepped into the throng. A Mythos Academy student ID might grant me access to most places, but anonymity was still my best shield.
Seraphina had already split off, heading toward the upper districts to scout the more structured, bureaucratic parts of the city. My task was rooted in the shadows: the underbelly of Marasva's infamous trade district, where whispers carried more weight than gold.
