A young girl sat on the edge of a weathered stone wall, her legs dangling freely over the drop. Peach-colored hair swayed with the breeze, catching sunlight like strands of soft fire. Around her, motes of yellow light shimmered, bending to her will as she flicked her hand. They sparkled briefly before dispersing, a reflection of the mana she now commanded.
Yellow Stage.
Aeris had reached it—a feat most failed to achieve even after decades of training. Yet the small crease in her brow betrayed the doubt pressing at her thoughts.
Today was no ordinary day. This was the last round of the tournament—the final match. A battle that would decide whether the King's armies marched to Ashenhold to stand beside Edward, or whether he would be left alone to face the Crimson Oath… and almost certainly die.
Her opponent was also of the Yellow Stage. But unlike her bright, steady glow, his aura burned a pale, almost white glow. A level that only a handful of living warriors had ever touched.
