The heavy, crushing melancholy of the Abyssal Menagerie didn't simply vanish, but Krave was an ancient entity. She had survived millennia in the lightless depths by constantly moving forward. As we ascended the spiralling stone ramps and left the cold, pressurised darkness behind, I watched her physically shake the nostalgia from her shoulders. By the time we stepped back into the shimmering, artificial sunset of the upper city, the manic, hyperactive tourist had seamlessly returned.
"We haven't experienced the real capital yet. The Ducal Gardens and the high-society taverns are fine for stretching our legs, but they lack soul. If you want to understand how a city truly functions, you have to eat where the labourers eat."
Krave declared, stopping abruptly in the middle of the crushed-pearl promenade. She spun around to face me, her dark eyes flashing with a renewed, predatory excitement.
