Crimson banners snapped in the wind, a vibrant counterpoint to the riotous blush of cherry blossoms exploding across the hillside. The air, thick with the perfume of a thousand blooms and woodsmoke, thrummed with the ascent of Elffire City's citizens. A river of people climbed the stone staircase carved into the emerald flank of the hill, each step crunching underfoot on the ancient path leading to the Fire Temple. Offerings bobbed amongst the throng: tiny bouquets clenched in sun-browned hands, steaming baskets overflowing with delicacies, exquisitely painted figurines gleaming in the dappled sunlight.
From her high vantage point within the temple, Elder Lyra watched. The familiar weight of responsibility settled upon her like the temple's ancient stones. Years etched into her face mirrored the temple's own weathered grandeur. Her eyes, the color of polished jade, swept across the ascending multitude. A faint smile played on her lips.
