Word on the street... In Hathian’s restless dusk, the streets thrummed with rumor and tension as shadows stretched over cracked asphalt. Whispers wound through the bars of a tall, knife-wielding stranger taken down just outside the pawn shop, her resistance echoing louder than police batons ever could. Old scores between two steel-eyed women flared amid streetlights—resentment sharper than any blade, with brooding glances and past wounds nearly spilling into blood. Meanwhile, behind bakery glass and battered convenience counters, alliances shifted—grim humor and whispered threats traded hands like contraband. They say last night, loyalty was worth less than a pawned ring, and the city’s hunger for violence was only matched by its appetite for secrets.
