The city at night was not quiet.
Lyra had expected darkness and shuttered doors, a city holding its breath after the violence in the arena. Instead, Emberfell seemed more alive than it had in daylight. Lanterns hung on chains between buildings, turning whole streets amber and gold. Open-air markets spilled into the roads, bright fabrics shifting in the hot wind, merchants shouting over one another while wolves bartered for spices, blades, jewelry, and meat roasting over open flame.
The Coliseum had been the feast before the party, and now Emberfell reveled with a full belly.
The aftermath of spectacle still pulsed through the streets. Lyra could hear people recounting what they had seen in broken, excited fragments. Merrow’s fall. The lightning. The wolf who had ripped through guards l
