The next day, the market inside the Zenithara Estate was already alive with noise and movement.
Morning light spread across the wide streets, touching rows of small stalls that lined the pathways in long stretches.
Behind those stalls stood bigger buildings, tall and solid, casting soft shadows over the busy crowd below.
Vendors called out to passing customers, their voices mixing with the sound of footsteps, chatter, and the clatter of goods being arranged.
The smell of fresh food drifted through the air, warm and inviting, blending with the faint scent of wood smoke from cooking fires.
People moved in every direction, some carrying baskets, some stopping to bargain, and others simply walking through while talking among themselves.
The whole place felt full of life, like it never truly rested, especially at this time of day.
Meanwhile, above all that noise and movement, on the rooftop of one of the larger buildings, two figures sat quietly at the edge.
