The journey down from the Echo Temple was eerily silent. The skies above the Skyreach Mountains now shimmered with strange auroras—ribbons of burning gold, crimson, and violet that danced across the heavens like war banners unfurling in slow motion. It was a sign.
"The world feels like it's holding its breath," Kairen muttered, tightening the straps on his shoulder guards.
"It is," Fiorensia replied. "The Requiem's rhythm has begun."
Ahcehera didn't speak. The celestial flame now pulsed inside her, woven into her very soul. It no longer rested in her palm but had fused to her being. Each heartbeat echoed like a war drum, reminding her that there was no turning back. Whatever happened at the Temple of the First Flame would determine not just the fate of her kingdom—but of the very balance between light and darkness.
They reached the foot of the mountains by dawn, where waiting for them was an unlikely companion: Ronan Bloodstone.
