Kat'lan was particularly fantastical in the summer, a nexus of myth and legend. The weather was hot and dry; it was not uncommon to see sandstorms and mirages. And there were many tales about the city itself. It had been built on top of an ancient dwarven fortress, the foundations of which could still be seen beneath the streets. But it was said that the dwarves who'd lived there had long since departed, leaving behind only the memories of their magic.

Gone were such days, as in recent history, Kat'lan buzzed with an assortment of peoples. From the war-like Khazari to the peaceful D'jinni, each nation was represented in the city. They all had one thing in common: they had come to learn the secrets of magic.

I was of them, of course, navigating the sand-licked bazars and narrow alleys of the city. Dozens—no, hundreds of stalls lined the streets of the Lapis District, peddling everything from rare spices to magical elixirs. I was looking for something specific. A great caster. Kat'lan had attracted a dozen or so competing sorcerous conclaves, yet I cared not for the politics of academia. I sought a true master, or mistress, who would properly guide me. It was a sea of commoners, slaves, troubadours, adventurers, alchemist and merchants alike; a fresco of strange faces, sights and smells. Yet despite its wonder, the disparity between caste was immense. Paupers, clad in thread-stripped robes shared the same foot traffic as the praetorians of the Kat'lan'shik, draped in their silken-robed armor and gilded war masks. Clear skies buzzed with the call of the sha'teth, the shriek of eagles, the whistle of a dragon's breath. It was a place where anything seemed possible. Anything at all. Incredibly overwhelming, nonetheless.