The first rays of dawn broke through the misted canopy of the Flameborn sanctuary. Gold light spilled over the cliffs, casting long shadows across the training grounds nestled between jagged rocks and ancient oaks. The stone platform in the center, scorched black with runes and claw marks, pulsed faintly beneath Aria's boots.
She stood still, breathing in the morning air—tinged with fire and memory.
Selene approached, silent as snowfall, her silver robes rustling like whispers. Behind her, Rowan arrived, dressed in dark leathers, his hair damp from a sleepless night.
"Ready?" Selene asked, her voice uncharacteristically soft.
Aria nodded. "As ready as I'll ever be."
Selene stepped into the circle, raising her hands. "Then let this be your crucible."
A wall of flame erupted around the platform, sealing them in a dome of fire and smoke. The outside world faded away—no triplets, no war maps, no looming Maw. Just the scent of heat and the taste of potential.
