Napváros

In the shadows of twin cliffs lies Nona, a city that never feels the sun. Its narrow, winding streets are lined with towering stone facades, rusted lanterns, and the perpetual scent of leather and ash. The inhabitants move in muted gray, their lives governed by strict councils and eerie rituals that echo through vaulted temples. Even the occasional flicker of fire at dusk casts the whole town in a blood‑red glow, hinting at a history steeped in both craftsmanship and dread.

Into this bleak world steps Filippa, the rector’s daughter, bound by a solemn vow made after the great pestilence. Clad in a simple woolen shawl, she makes the arduous pilgrimage from the city’s edge to the seaside shrine of the Blessed Virgin, escorted by a servant and two armed guards. As the lagoon widens and the sky burns violet‑red, a lone rider on a tall horse appears, his presence as startling as a tale from another realm, setting the stage for a journey that may reshape Filippa’s destiny.