Maria's Perspective:

We started walking again. We were a bit better than we had been after the fight, but our spirits were still crushed. It felt as if our resolve had been destroyed as easily as a spider's web.

"We are here, Maria. Welcome to Dracathea," Art said.

"Wow, that's..." I couldn't find the right words to describe it. Houses stretched as far as my eyes could see, with a large plaza at the center and an enormous statue standing proudly in the middle. At the back of the city, a massive castle was visible. It was the largest structure around, with walls that extended for at least a few kilometers. Above the walls and the castle were the skeletal remains of what had once been a dragon. That must be why the royal crest features a dragon. Unlike Elviel’s green, this country's dominant color was red—a dark red, resembling the color of blood. The houses were made of wood and stone, adorned with red decorations..

I took in the sight before me, feeling both awe and a gnawing sense of foreboding. The city of Dracathea was unlike anything I had imagined—a place of both splendor and silent menace. The streets were bustling with people dressed in dark-hued clothing, their expressions serious, eyes flickering with wary glances at strangers.

Art’s jaw clenched as we moved further into the heart of the city. I noticed how he kept his hand close to the hilt of his sword, the tension in his posture palpable. It was as if Dracathea itself breathed with a hidden threat, and we were stepping right into its core.

“Stay close to me,” Art said, his voice low, but the command in it clear. I nodded, my pulse quickening as we passed through the narrow alleys and toward the grand plaza.

The statue in the center loomed above us—a stone dragon mid-roar, its eyes carved with an unnatural gleam that made me shiver. The figure seemed to watch us as we moved, and I couldn’t shake the feeling that it recognized intruders.

“Do you think they know we’re here?” I whispered.

Art glanced at me, his blue eyes shadowed with concern. “They will soon, if they don’t already.”

The plaza was busy with market stalls and merchants shouting prices for their wares. The scent of spiced meats and baked bread mingled with the tang of iron in the air, a reminder of Dracathea’s dark reputation. Even here, among the traders and buyers, there was an underlying sense of order imposed by an unseen force. Guards patrolled with mechanical precision, their scarlet cloaks fluttering behind them like blood-streaked banners.

“We need to move quickly,” Art said. His eyes scanned the crowds, searching for anything out of place, a sign of recognition or hostility. I followed his gaze, my heartbeat echoing in my ears. Every corner, every shadow seemed to hold a secret.

We weaved through the market, pretending to blend in with the locals. A man selling crimson-dyed fabrics shouted praises of their unparalleled quality, holding up a bolt of cloth that matched the ominous shade of the city. I pulled my hood lower over my face as we passed him.

“Art,” I whispered again, this time with a note of urgency. “Where exactly are we going?”

“To the inner walls,” he said, keeping his focus ahead. “We need to find an entrance that isn’t guarded. If we’re lucky, I know someone who can help us get inside.”

A sudden shout rose from the far end of the plaza. My stomach knotted as I saw a group of guards push through the crowd, their sharp eyes scanning faces. One guard raised a hand, pointing toward us. The others turned, following his signal.

“Run,” Art commanded, grabbing my hand.

We dashed down a narrow side street, the shouts of the guards growing louder behind us. The passage twisted between tall, imposing buildings, each with windows like black eyes watching us flee. I struggled to keep up, my breaths coming in ragged gasps as we turned a sharp corner and stumbled into a secluded courtyard.

Art pressed me against the stone wall, his arm barring me from moving. He peeked back the way we came, his breath steady despite the urgency.

“Did we lose them?” I asked, my voice barely a whisper.

“Not for long.” His gaze shifted to a heavy wooden door at the far end of the courtyard, half-hidden behind vines and a forgotten cart. “That’s our way in.”

I nodded, adrenaline rushing through my veins. We sprinted toward the door, each step feeling like a leap between survival and capture. Art pushed it open with a creak that made my heart jump, and we slipped inside just as the sound of boots echoed in the street we had left behind.

Inside, the air was cold and damp, filled with the scent of mold and old stone. We were in a dark corridor, dimly lit by torches placed at uneven intervals. The weight of the silence pressed on me, but there was a strange sense of safety compared to the chaos outside.

Art let out a breath and turned to me, a small, determined smile breaking through his stoic exterior. “We made it,” he said, though I knew this was only the beginning.