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Message: <blockquote data-quote="OneCrappy DM" data-source="post: 9819449" data-attributes="member: 7033788">WawaateThe orphan girl led you off the main way and into the Hive’s tangled veins, slipping through alleyways with the surety of a ranger moving through familiar wilds. She knew where to step, when to pause, when to let a pair of passing cutters drift by without ever meeting their eyes. You followed her turns by instinct alone. She didn’t waste words. Just an occasional glance over her shoulder and a muttered, “Ain’t far now,” when the alleys narrowed or the noise thickened behind you. At last, the stink of spilled ale announced the place before you saw it. She stopped at the rear of a rowdy establishment, its back wall scarred with old knife marks and newer graffiti. Laughter and shouting bled through the boards, along with the dull thud of boots on warped floor planks. This wasn’t an entrance meant for guests. It was for business.“Wait here,” she said, already slipping away. “I’ll let the tout know you’re in.” She vanished through a side door or shadow you hadn’t noticed, leaving you alone in the narrow space between buildings. With nothing left to do but breathe, the weight you’d been carrying finally found you. Your legs trembled. Your shoulders sagged. The exhaustion you’d outrun all day came crashing in now. For a moment, you simply stood there, hand resting where the dragon feather lay tucked safely away. Still warm. Still real. Your thoughts drifted, unbidden, back to the sky of your home. The image of dragons locked in battle overhead, wings tearing clouds apart, fire and frost clashing like gods at war. You swallowed. Would the temple still be there when you returned?</blockquote>

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