As Kent stepped out of the Mind Stone chamber, his fingers still tingling faintly from the warmth of the stone, he followed the steady line of disciples descending through the winding spiral staircase. The steps were smooth, ancient, and worn by time and countless feet. Soft blue light illuminated the path, not from torches, but from the walls themselves—etched with intricate murals that pulsed with subtle mana.
The mural told a story in sequence—one that felt eerily alive.
