It's one of those summer nights. The pleasant kind. The wind is warm but not humid, the sky is still a dark pink from the fallen sun despite it being well into the evening hours. Focalor was preparing for sleep, or well, doing a few tasks before heading to their tent for bed. Fixing up the fabric roof of one of the merchant stalls.

As they were finishing up the last few stitches, they heard someone pass them. Who else was awake at such an hour?