The Hall of Foundation was unlike anything Renard had seen in the monastery. It was a subterranean cathedral, carved into bedrock and reinforced with ancient spellwork that pulsed faintly along the walls. The ceilings were impossibly high, lost in shadow, and the cold in the air seemed not natural but magical—an essence-draining chill designed to test resolve before anything else.
Elder Mariam led them silently to the center of the chamber. There, a stone dais sat atop a radiant sigil etched into the floor—an array of complex interwoven glyphs that flickered in pale blue and silver light. Dozens of branching corridors led away from the central platform.
"This is where the paths diverge," Mariam said. Her voice echoed without need of volume. "You will each be called into a private chamber, one by one. You will be given the opportunity to form your First Circle."
