LYRA‘S POV
The transition from the upper ridge canopy to the lower valley flats was always a descent through contrasting atmospheric pressures. By the time the final evening transit bus rumbled across the reinforced iron bridge and hissed to a stop at the terminal gates, the cool, crisp mountain breeze had entirely vanished, replaced by the heavy, humid density of the industrial docks. I stepped off the transport platform, my fingers instantly reaching down to gather the hem of my midnight-blue silk gown so the pristine fabric wouldn't brush against the damp, soot-stained pavement of our street.
Walking into our apartment building felt like stepping back inside a familiar, heavily guarded firewall. The elevator groaned as it carried me up to the fourth floor, its gears grinding with a pr
