Hearthglen stood at the heart of the Alliance like a gilded crown — a city of marble towers and golden domes where every stone had been laid by compromise, coin, or blood. It was here that trade flowed, alliances were forged, and grudges dressed themselves in formal robes before being bared across council tables.
In the great hall of the Alliance building, the air was thick with tension. Murals of past victories and treaties loomed from the high walls, but today their silent pride felt like mockery. The news had spread faster than fire on dry straw: the child of Master Altan, one of the Sky Temple's Gryphon lords, was missing.
