SKYE'S POV
The late summer days in Nighthaven rolled by in a golden, uninterrupted haze, marked not by the desperate survival of the past, but by the steady, beautiful cadence of a community finding its stride. Down in the valley, the high alpine meadows had reached the peak of their seasonal brilliance. The wild grasses stood knee-high, rippling in amber waves beneath the afternoon sun, and the heavy scent of ripening grain and mountain sage drifted lazily across the stone courtyards on every breeze.
I sat at the heavy oak table in our private chambers, surrounded by a scatter of parchment scrolls, ink pots, and architectural drafts. Despite the warm breeze fluttering the linen curtains, my mind was entirely consumed by the intricate details of the upcoming autumn trade summit. Represen
