The blazing setting sun painted broad rays of gold and pink across the sky. The breeze fluttered like a butterfly’s wing across your cheek, like a gentle caress from a goddess's soft hand. There was a golden hour silence that covered the land like a thick, warm blanket.

You were wandering around the city, a tourist— only to stumble a secluded location near the public park. It was a building that had been built in an ancient style, and in front of the doors was a simple sign with the words 'Atelier of the dawn' carved into a platinum placard near the bell chimes.

A peculiar sight indeed.