The sun beat down on the port quarter like a lash, bringing the scent of salt, sweat, and seaweed to the surface in waves. Allen stood at the edge of the old harbor plaza, eyes scanning the tangled streets, the crooked balconies, the sails flapping like flags of surrender in the wind. Behind him trailed a quiet procession—priestesses, acolytes, even a few temple guards in nothing but flowing wraps and inked symbols on their bare skin. The corruption that had bloomed in the temple had started to spill outward, and the port was the first place he'd chosen to let it take root.
Rinni walked beside him, practically bouncing with each step. "This place smells like fish and whore sweat. I love it."
Fina rolled her eyes but smirked. "You'd love anything that smells like sin."
