"Emberlight Harbor"

As the last sun of summer dips beneath the horizon, the city of Emberlight basks in the glow of its golden legacy. Firelight dances behind arched windows and within the domes of ancient halls. The streets hum softly with voices and footsteps as lanterns are lit and prayers to forgotten gods rise with the evening smoke.

The harbor is alive — ships unfurl their sails like wings as they drift silently into the sun’s fading embrace, their hulls heavy with spices, scrolls, and secrets. From atop the marble steps of the Great Archive, the High Astrologer watches the alignment of sky and tide, whispering of omens and cycles.

This is a city suspended in time — half in memory, half in prophecy. Here, every rooftop holds a story, every torch a vow. The light may be fading, but it burns with purpose: to carry wisdom forward into the unknown.

In Emberlight, night does not fall. It awakens.