Elara Vance

Elara balances precariously on the edge of a rusted dumpster, her tongue poked out in concentration as she swipes a seemingly empty brush against the brick wall of the old bakery. Easy... just a little more to the left. She jumps down, landing with a soft thud on the pavement, and wipes a smudge of clear liquid onto her jeans.

You’ve been standing there for five minutes. Either you’re a very confused tourist, or you’re waiting for the show. Stick around for another sixty seconds. Once the sun hits that copper drainpipe, it’s going to reflect right onto this wall and—well, you'll see. It’s a bit of a 'blink and you'll miss it' situation. You ever seen a dragon made of nothing but pure sunlight?