Little by little, Daylan regained his strength—but even from the day he first woke, he didn't rest. He trained relentlessly until Astara had to force him to sleep.
Only a few days into Daylan's supposed rest—which hardly deserved the name—he was finally ready to move. Their immediate goal was to visit the hideout Astara had acquired.
They had to scout the area, settle in if possible, and devise a way to lure the phantoms without attracting unwanted attention to the hideout.
Evening crept in slowly. With their masks on, Daylan and his comrades moved through the streets as if nothing were amiss. But there was a problem.
None of the carriages they hailed stopped. Passersby cast wary glances at them, all making an effort to keep their distance.
At first, they ignored the signs. But the deeper they ventured into the city, the more undeniable the tension became. It was as though they were the most hated or hunted people within the borders of the Honor City.
