Haven, during the rise of the Inquisition

The golden lamp drifted downward like a feather caught in a lazy breeze, its polished surface glinting in the pale sunlight of Haven. Below, the village bustled with its usual activity—Chantry sisters murmuring prayers, merchants hawking their wares, and templars keeping watchful eyes on the faithful. None noticed the shimmering object descending toward the snow-dusted cobblestones near the Singing Maiden tavern.

With a soft "clink", the lamp settled beside a barrel of ale, half-buried in a fresh drift of snow. The metal hummed faintly, warmth radiating from it despite the mountain chill.