Chapter 459 - Lyan's Gut Feeling (3)

Lisban's main plaza pulsed with life as if the very stones had a heartbeat. Flames leapt high from fresh-cut timber stacked in iron braziers and old wagon wheels jammed together for kindling. Sparks spiraled into the clean night sky, every burst of orange light painting the shattered facades in flickering gold and hiding cracks for a heartbeat at a time. The air smelled of wet ash, roasting mutton, cheap wine, and forge-oil still clinging to hastily repaired armor.