This tale begins in my native city, Sharn. Called "The City of Towers" by some and by others "The City of Lost Souls", "The City of Knives" and other names of an even less complimentary nature. Can there be a city like it anywhere upon Eberron? Built on a rock edifice overlooking The Hilt it is located in a Manifest Zone, a place where our world merges with one of the other planes. In this case it is Syrania, The Plane of Air. The builders of Sharn made full use of this arcane conjunction to create a city of vast towers, some of which stretched up to a mile into the air. It is a bustling metropolis of over two hundred thousand souls; humans, dwarves, halflings, elves, goblinoids, kalishtar and even war-forged.
It was 998 YK of the Galifar Calendar. Mol 9th of Olarune to be exact which meant it was CrystalFall. Crystal Fall is a festival we have in Sharn to remember the destruction of The Glass Tower during the Last War. Toryil, Fraiya and I were in the market area of Dura district. The market, a bustling bazaar full of noise and smells, within a vast chamber. The ceiling was hundreds of feet above us and the market was spread out over a series of large platforms connected with stairs and bridges. Most of the light in the market was natural; there were huge glassless windows in the walls that bounded the market through which sunlight and quite a bit of rain (it always rains in Sharn). In areas out of reach of the sun there were magical, Everbright torches mounted on the walls to dispel the darkness.