The town's main street glowed under rows of oil lanterns hanging from wooden posts, casting golden light across food stalls still open despite the late hour. Steam from soups and grilled meats mingled with the salty breeze carried in by the winter wind, creating a bustling yet strangely familiar atmosphere.
Sylvia walked through it all with steady steps. Her crimson eyes lingered briefly on several stalls, skewers of meat glistening with oil, round loaves stuffed with vegetables, even steaming cups of sweet herbal brews. Her stomach never truly hungered, but her mind recalled how Sofia once used to force her to taste warm food at Nocture's markets.
This time, she turned her head sharply, banishing the thought.
Alicia and Stacia matter more. They're lying wounded. I can't waste a moment.
