At the center of the courtyard stood the Grandmaster, tall and commanding in his dark silver robes trimmed with gold. His presence quieted even the most exuberant of cheers as he raised his hand. The orb, glowing softly now in his grasp, seemed both fragile and endlessly powerful. The light danced across his weathered face as though it acknowledged his authority.
"You have done well," the Grandmaster said, his voice carrying across the courtyard with ease. "The Trial of the Grove is no simple test. Many enter with bravery, but not all return with victory. Tonight, you have shown us not only skill, but unity, and the courage to face what others would flee."
He extended his hand, and an attendant stepped forward carrying a heavy satchel made of deep green velvet, embroidered with threads of gold. The bag looked almost too small for what it contained, but when the Grandmaster opened it, the crowd gasped.
