The air ahead shimmered, alive with possibility. Every step Rhys took seemed to echo, not just in the arena, but in the threads of light that still lingered around them. Caria fell into step beside him, her sword casually resting across her shoulder, eyes scanning the horizon.
Lyra moved silently on the other side, shadows flickering across her form, a faint grin tugging at her lips. "I don't know about you," she said, voice low, "but I like knowing I'm not facing the end alone."
Sophia's hands were already tracing faint patterns in the air, weaving protective sigils into the lingering threads of magic. "We'll need coordination," she said, eyes narrowing. "Not just strength. Timing, anticipation… if this reckoning adapts, we have to adapt faster."
Aria's gaze was on the sky, where faint constellations still glimmered like distant warnings. "Every choice we make now will echo," she said softly. "We can't afford hesitation—not even a moment."
