The mountain loomed like a titan, wreathed in clouds that never parted. The Tears of Ralynn weren't mere storms—they were alive, a guardian born from the old magic.
Kael, Eira, and Ashenfang climbed in silence, every step met with thunder and cold rain. Each gust whispered doubts, trying to seep into their minds.
But Kael's resolve burned hotter.
At the peak, a crater pulsed with dying flame. Kael approached and knelt, placing his palm over the embers.
The storm paused.
A voice rumbled through the clouds, ancient and feminine:
"Do you seek power or redemption, Flameborn?"
Kael whispered, "Both."