Virenthyre was beautiful in the way only danger could be.
The canopy-top city was held aloft by enchanted vines and archways, a structure of wild elegance and quiet menace. Its forest was immaculately trimmed—lush green gardens snaking between centuries-old stone pillars and moss-crowned buildings.
Elven craftsmanship touched every corner, but beneath that refined sheen pulsed the lifeblood of Meridian Fold's trading empire.
This was the faction's economic heart—the central node where supply chains tangled, high-grade gear shifted hands, and backroom deals thrived under perfumed charm.
The jungle city gleamed from its elevated platform of enchanted flora, draped in luminous moss and golden spores. Spires curved like thorns, bridges webbed between trees, and the market stalls nestled beneath the canopy like predators waiting to pounce.
