Preparations for the journey began before the first light of dawn touched the sanctuary's spires. The halls were alive with motion—armored wolves lacing up gauntlets, scholars poring over relic maps, and blacksmiths hammering steel to echo Aria's rising determination. Fires burned brighter, as though sensing their queen's pulse.
Aria stood in the center of the courtyard, her newly reforged armor gleaming in the early haze. It was lighter than traditional Flameguard steel, forged with gold-infused runes and threads of volcanic glass. The sigil of her lineage—a phoenix curled around a crescent moon—shone proudly across her chestplate.
