Five days passed in what felt like the blink of an eye, yet for the Ashford Quarter, those five days were enough to change its fate entirely.
The once quiet stretch of cracked stone roads and abandoned storefronts no longer felt forgotten. Where dust used to gather in lazy swirls, boots now stamped the ground from dawn until late evening.
Where silence once lingered like a stubborn ghost, voices rose in waves, laughter, arguments, bargaining, and the sharp clank of steel striking steel. The Adventurer Guild's symbol, mounted boldly above the newly built hall, caught the sunlight each morning and cast its shadow over the district like a declaration.
What had begun with cautious hope now pulsed with life; even those who had doubted its survival found themselves pausing on the street to watch the steady flow of people entering and leaving its doors.
The acre of land that had once held crumbling structures now felt like the heart of something vibrant.
