The caravan slowed as twilight spilled across the land, painting the skies in hues of burnt orange and royal violet. The path curved beside a lazy river that shimmered like molten glass, bordered by tall moonblossom trees—whose pale petals drifted on the wind like glowing feathers.
A stone clearing near the river served as their resting point for the night.
Asher dismounted first, his armored boots crunching softly against the gravel. With a subtle hand gesture, his knightly retinue—men and women born of this dream-world—moved with loyal precision. They fanned out, lighting enchanted lanterns that flared to life with blue flame and began pitching tents with the fluid rhythm of soldiers living a life they believed was real.
