Lumaire, the capital of Edenbarrow, was breathtaking.
Tall towers of whitestone kissed the skies, their golden spires gleaming in the sun like celestial beacons. Flowers hung from wrought iron balconies, and the streets shimmered with enchanted glass bricks that glowed faintly underfoot. Music drifted from open cafés, blending with the laughter of scholars and nobles alike. Even the air smelled sweet—lavender, rain, and baked honeybread.
Litch Tarlowe had arrived in Lumaire two weeks ago to begin his tesciary studies in mytho-mechanics at the prestigious Solas Academy. Back home in Wetherstead, they had called him a dreamer. In Lumaire, dreamers built machines that touched the sky. It felt like a new world.
Litch Tarlowe stood beneath the soaring gates of Solas Academy, the wind pulling at his coat, the scent of flower-oils and clean stone filling his nose. Lumaire—the capital of Edenbarrow—was unlike anything he had imagined: a symphony of art, magic, and industry. Skylifts hummed above glass bridges. Fountains danced in choreographed streams. Every street was a storybook.