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As twilight draped itself across the horizon, the city of Lysara shimmered like a dream made of stone and fire. Ancient domes and marble columns caught the last kiss of sun, glowing gold against the deepening blue of dusk. The harbor, the lifeblood of the empire, pulsed with motion—merchant boats bobbed on sapphire waters, lanterns swayed on docks, and a great galleon readied to depart under the command of a crew bound for uncharted seas.
Plumes of mist curled through the alleys, wrapping the city in mystery. From balconies and towers, citizens gathered to witness the departure—a symbolic act as much as a practical one. For this ship, The Astra Maris, carried not just cargo and crew, but the final legacy of an age now waning.
In Lysara, where philosophy once echoed from colonnades and fleets ruled the known seas, this sunset marked the end of something sacred… and the beginning of legend.
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