Athenion loomed before them like a colossus of stone and noise. Unlike Filgram, where disorder was the heart of the city, Athenion resembled a living chessboard—each street belonging to a power, each corner marked by the influence of a guild. Colorful flags fluttered from the tall buildings, each bearing the crest of a different group: a silver blade crossing a blue shield; a clenched fist encircled by chains; a stylized red eye.
Rogue walked ahead, her eager eyes taking in everything, while the rest of the group followed. She seemed at home in this organized chaos, like a wolf unleashed on the territory of other predators. Her dark cape flapped in the wind, and her toothy grin never left her.
"Ah, I already like it here," she said, laughing loudly as she passed an ornate gate guarded by three muscular men. "So many puppies fighting for territory... I can't wait to kick everyone's ass."
