Night enveloped the Guild like a vast, gentle blanket, not just darkening the world but softening it, muffling the echoes of pain, and wrapping everything in a fragile stillness that followed catastrophe.
Above, the sky stretched endlessly, deep and ink-dark, a canvas scattered with countless stars that shimmered faintly as if they were breathing. Three moons hung high in that expanse, each at a different height, their pale light spilling across the land in layers: one cold and silver, another faintly blue, and the third tinged with a dim amber glow.
Their combined illumination cast a strange, almost sacred radiance over the ruined Guild, transforming broken walls into silhouettes and unfinished structures into quiet monuments of resilience.
