Moonlight glimmered off canvas tents and lantern-lit stalls at the Starlit Market, a wandering bazaar that emerged only under a new moon. Vendors hawked exotic spices, enchanted trinkets, and silken pouches of dreamdust, while ragged refugees huddled beside smoky braziers. Sylvie Lightwhisper stepped through the throng, hood drawn low, guided by Lark's gentle tug.
“Here," Lark whispered, pointing to a banner stitched with trembling wolf-runes. “Frostfang scouts said the Echo Clan remnant hides beyond that archway."
Thorne Blackveil stalked beside them, cloak swirling like liquid night. “Stay close," he murmured. “Traitors and bounty hunters lurk here, too."
Sylvie nodded, hand brushing the small shard-pouch at her belt. “We need their support. Without more clans, the capital's uprising
