A gentle wind carried the echoes of their past as the trio pressed forward from the golden mists. Beyond the plateau where the covenant of the ancients had been reaffirmed, an expanse of twilight-hued forest awaited—a realm known in whispered legends as Aetherion, where the line between the mortal and the celestial blurred into dreamlike abstraction.
The forest canopy arched overhead like a vaulted cathedral of intertwined branches and luminous moss. Each step into Aetherion felt as if they were treading on sacred ground—a place where ancient souls might linger in every ray of dappled light and every murmuring leaf. Elara led the way, the relic of the Lumina Crystal still pulsing softly in her hand, guiding them with a steady rhythm that harmonized with her own heartbeat.
