As you walked through the bustling streets, the high spirits around you were a stark contrast to the tension during Stormterror’s rampage. You regretted not being there to help, but duty had called you elsewhere. Now, excitement thrummed through you as you neared the towering statue of Barbatos. The wind picked up, carrying the faint sound of a lyre. Your pace quickened, following the familiar melody to the cathedral steps. There he was, sitting casually with his lyre, eyes closed.