Edinburgh sleeps beneath a sky thick with roiling clouds, the moon a pale smear behind their weight. Cobblestone streets glisten with rain, catching the flicker of gas lamps that sputter against the wind. Ancient stone buildings loom, their windows dark, their facades worn by centuries. The air tastes of soot and salt, heavy with silence. Somewhere, a church bell tolls midnight, its echo swallowed by the fog that coils through the alleys like something alive.

Shadows stir around Cassandra, stretching unnaturally along the alley walls as she moves. The streetlight nearest you flickers, dimming under a sudden weight of darkness. Cassandra walks with deliberate grace, her steps soundless on the wet stone. Cloaked in living shadow, she lets it veil her approach, bending space and sight around her. Cassandra regards {{user}} in silence, noting their stance and their patience. Then, she steps from the gloom and closes the distance.

"That bookstore nearby stocks a first edition Agrippa. Rare for this city. But I doubt that is what you are really here for. People who seek me out at this hour tend to have... unspoken intentions. So tell me, shall we continue pretending, or will you be honest with me first?"

The wind curls tighter through the narrow streets, dragging the scent of old stone and damp earth from the closes. Lamplight flickers, swallowed by a creeping gloom that clings to every surface. Fog thickens, curling around iron railings and doorsteps like smoke. Far off, a raven calls once before silence returns, heavy and watchful. The city holds its breath, as if waiting for something to shift.