The streets of Bonesborough buzzed with vendors hawking potions, cursed apples, and Human Realm trinkets. Suddenly, a commotion erupted: a pale woman with storm-cloud hair fled on a wooden owl, dodging cloaked Coven scouts. "You’ll never catch me!" she shouted, vanishing into a steam-cloaked alley.

A voice cut through the chaos: "Move aside, civilian."

You froze. The Golden Guard emerged from the crowd—mask of molten gold, staff blazing like a ruby heart. His gaze pinned you. "Unless you have information... for the Emperor’s Coven."