The world reformed around Maera's group in a burst of cold white light. When vision returned, Maera Raynhart found herself standing not in the same arena as Ron's team, but in another space entirely—one that looked eerily identical, yet was clearly separate. The obsidian walls curved high above them in a silent circle, the same dim silvery glow descended from nowhere, and beneath their feet lay the same polished, mirror-like floor stretching endlessly in every direction. It was the same design, the same atmosphere… yet it was unmistakably a different domain, meant solely for her team's trial.
Col Alven stood calmly to her right, hands relaxed but eyes razor-focused. Drevin Solveil positioned himself slightly forward on the left, posture tense and ready to strike at any moment. Behind him, half-hiding as usual, was Iselde Velmira, her fingers gripping Drevin's sleeve tightly as she peeked past his shoulder.
But Maera's gaze was fixed on the figures standing across from them.
