A pearl of sun, swallowed by swirling grey, bled weakly onto the obsidian peaks of the Fire Elf Temple. Elffire City, usually a blaze of crimson and gold, was muted, hushed in the pre-dawn mist. Bloom Week loomed – a single day away, a national holiday in Sakura Abode, heavy with the scent of anticipation.
Inside, the temple thrummed, not with the usual quiet reverence, but with a frenetic energy. Hammer blows rang out, sharp and metallic, against the rhythmic thud of bare feet on polished stone. A priestess, her scarlet robes stained with what looked suspiciously like melted wax, barked orders in a voice like crackling embers.
"More saffron! And for the love of Ignis, someone fetch the phoenix feathers! The Offering must be perfect!" Someone shouted
