The carriage wheels slow as we enter Muedar, and the change in atmosphere is immediate.
What was once a vibrant border town now stands as a hollow shell of its former self. The cobblestone streets are unusually deserted, with the wooden shutters of houses and shops firmly shut. The royal carriage's arrival is met by wary eyes, observing from behind the window cracks where shadows flicker.
Only a few buildings remain standing, but they all have scorch marks from the fire, their exteriors charred and damaged. The faint breeze swirls the ashes on the streets, revealing strange footprints: deep, haphazardly crisscrossing impressions with clawed toes.
"Is this... all from a dragon?" I say softly, leaning out the carriage window for a better view.
Awakening from his nap, Zephyr sits up, his eyes squinting at the scene. "That definitely doesn't look good."
