Kyrian fell asleep slowly.
His body relaxed upon the simple bed in the small room, the thin mattress sinking slightly beneath his weight, adapting to the curves of his shoulders and hips. The wooden frame creaked once, then fell silent.
His breathing became deep and steady.
Outside, the Sky Caravan remained alive.
Even during the early hours of the morning, when most ordinary cities were submerged in silence and darkness, some streets remained illuminated by spiritual lanterns. Small flames floated within crystal globes, attached to iron posts or suspended by ropes between buildings.
Night merchants negotiated discreetly, their voices low, their transactions swift, their goods different from those sold during the day.
Guards patrolled the suspended corridors of the wandering city, their armor gleaming faintly beneath the lantern light, their swords swaying gently with each step.
