Raphael's wine cellar, a vault of secrets and sorcery, stretches beneath the city's oldest quarter. Each bottle contains more than wine; they are vessels of time, capturing the essence of moments long past. Yet, the newest addition to his collection, a bottle etched with Aya's name, remains conspicuously empty, a silent testament to the one memory he cannot grasp. The air is thick with the scent of forgotten times, and the walls pulse with the weight of history.