The air around Stacia's training ground shimmered softly with pure magical resonance. There was no smell of sulfur, no searing heat, no growls of monsters as in other parts of the underworld. Only a tranquil space filled with a gentle, golden glow like a fragment of the heavens preserved within eternal darkness.
Stacia stood in the center of a large floating magic circle. Silvery-blue lines spun beneath her feet, tracing her every graceful hand movement. Sweat beaded at her temples, but her eyes remained sharp, focused, disciplined, unwavering.
Before her stood a radiant figure Goddess Lumielle, the long-lost Goddess of Light, thought to have vanished from the world. Her long white gown rippled gently though no wind stirred, and she shone like a sacred statue among shadows. But her gaze was not pure gentleness; within those glowing eyes burned the sharpness of divine authority.
