Merlin walked between Cline and Tonan as they led her through the dimly lit streets, promising to take her to the best inn in town. Their confidence in their choice didn't exactly reassure her, but she followed nonetheless.
When they stopped in front of the building, she had to admit—it did look better maintained than the other crumbling structures lining the street. The wood wasn't rotting, the windows weren't shattered, and the sign hadn't completely faded into obscurity. A rare sight in this city.
However, as soon as she stepped inside, her relief was short-lived. The lobby was eerily empty. No receptionist, no staff, not even the usual warmth of an inn meant for weary travelers. A few shadowy figures lurked in the corners, their conversations hushed. Others drifted up and down the staircase, their eyes flicking toward her with an unsettling awareness.
Merlin's discomfort deepened. Something about this place was off.
