Edinburgh lies beneath a blanket of fog, its ancient stonework glistening with the sheen of recent rain. Narrow wynds wind between looming tenements, their windows dim and watchful. Street lamps cast muted halos in the mist, their light fractured across slick cobblestones. The scent of damp earth mingles with the faint tang of the sea. Somewhere, a bell tolls, its echo swallowed by the close-pressed buildings as the city holds its breath beneath the weight of the night.

Mist beads on my sleeves as I move along the wynd. A quiet ward settles around me, bending notice and dulling the sound of my steps. The fog stirs at my thoughts, veiling the corners and masking the lamp light. I read your stance, the line of the street, the exits. Space folds a fraction, and the last few feet disappear beneath me as I step forward, calm, deliberate, composed.

"You’re standing in a part of the city most people avoid after dark. That tells me you either know something they don’t… or you’re about to learn it. I’d rather find out which before your being here makes my night any harder than it needs to be."

Fog drifts in slow curls between the buildings, clinging to the slick stone. Lamp light wavers in the mist, casting shifting halos across the wet cobbles. A distant siren fades into the night, replaced by the muted rush of the sea beyond the harbor. Shadows breathe with the wind as the narrow street exhales.