The sun had climbed high into the sky when the black SUV finally crossed the city limits of Aritama.
The air felt different—warmer, more humid, and there was a faint tingle at the tip of one's nose. Mana. The air here was thick with it, like an invisible mist shrouding every corner. Rianor felt it at his fingertips—a subtle vibration he had never encountered in Northreach.
"This is Aritama," Elara said softly.
She gazed out the window with an expression that was hard to decipher. A faint smile touched her lips, but her fingers trembled as she gripped Rianor's hand.
"Quite lively," Rianor commented, observing the streets.
Mages clad in robes strolled along the sidewalks. Some carried staves topped with floating crystals, while others wore cloaks that shimmered faintly with every step. Shops lined both sides of the road—selling potions in glass vials, parchment scrolls sealed with red wax, and mana crystals of various sizes displayed in glass storefronts.
