Beneath the glowing hues of a setting sun, the quiet town of Elmsridge slowly came to life with the hum of evening chatter.
Birds circled lazily overhead as the scent of baked bread drifted from a corner bakery, mixing with the faint aroma of blooming jasmine.
Children chased fireflies near the old stone fountain, their laughter echoing off cobblestone walls.
No one really noticed the stranger who stood at the edge of the square, coat dusty, eyes scanning the horizon—like someone who’d seen too much or was about to see something unforgettable.