The Anchor was too loud for her senses.
Not in sound, though that was overwhelming enough with merchants shouting and climbers arguing and the constant hum of gravity-stabilization magic thrumming through the stone. It was the emotions that hit Ravenna like a physical wave the moment she stepped outside the inn, a flood of greed and fear and ambition and desperation that crashed against her demon senses until she couldn't tell where one person ended and another began.
She found the rooftop by instinct, climbing maintenance ladders and fire escapes until she reached a flat expanse of weathered stone that looked like it hadn't seen regular traffic in years. The view was spectacular, the Anchor's connected islands spreading out before her like a constellation of lights against the void, but she barely noticed it. She was too busy trying to remember how to breathe.
