The sun had begun its slow descent into the horizon, its last rays dripping like molten gold across the rooftops of Barcken. A soft wind swept through the narrow streets, carrying with it the hum of conversation and the scent of smoke, cooked meats, and freshly poured ale. After the long and weary march through the Wasteland and the borderlands, Luke and Ilyrana found themselves wandering toward a familiar corner of the bustling trade centre—the tavern they had once stayed in, back when Barcken was far quieter and far grimmer than it was now.
The building stood just as he remembered it: worn beams, faded paint, and the slight tilt of its wooden sign. But tonight, the light spilling through its windows was warm and alive. The sound of laughter and chatter rolled out even before they stepped inside. When Luke pushed open the door, a wave of heat and noise hit him all at once—so unlike the silence of their previous visit.
