"Being a demon-god is hard work," Calastra murmured. "What interests me is why none of the children were affected, only the adults. Nearly all of us contributed blood or power to the forging of the crown. My daughter, Jocasta, is fine. She was frightened but suffered nothing."Havelock frowned. "How old is she? Ten?"
Nestled in a craggy vale along the eastern coast of Arun, Castanica is the dark heart of Clan Castanic. Smaller and less populous than Velika, the dark city almost crackles with desperate, passionate energy. Good and evil are concepts debated over spiced wine, not matters pertaining to a bargain. Castanics work hard and keep their word, but they’re also the first to tap the kegs and dance their clothes off. Anything can be found in Castanica—for the right price.
Glowing red signs and arcane projections break up the dark gloom that blankets the city, but just barely. Strange glyphs float in the air, crimson domes and spires glimmer over the rooftops, and the sacred Shrouded Rose welcomes visitors through the southern gate. Nearby, a lurid arcanasculpt of a castanic slayer dominates the skyline.
Castanica is not a city for the genteel. Its fierce, dark countenance, much like its inhabitants, can be off-putting, and yet there’s a harsh beauty under the surface. Castanics are cunning, sensual, independent, and resilient, and the city's design reflects this. Thorny architecture, dark metalworks, and the passion-inflaming crimson lighting mark the unusually fine line between beauty and danger.
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