Chapter 62 - BLOOD AND STORM.

Lightning rippled across the blood-soaked sky as the remnants of the veil between worlds thinned to a whisper. The firmament above cracked open in spiderweb fractures, bleeding not light, but memory—raw, unfiltered, sacred and savage. Ryon stood at the vanguard, his boots sinking into the ash-covered soil of what had once been a monastery of peace, now reborn as a crucible of war. Beside him stood Shaera, hair braided and burning with violet flame, her obsidian eyes reflecting the storm's fury. To his left, Aurelia's armor had shifted, changed by the touch of the awakening powers—silver plates now etched with golden veins of ancient aether, each movement exuding the weight of command and conviction. Neive lingered in the shadows behind them, no longer just the priestess of broken truths but now a Herald of the Forgotten—her presence humming with eldritch rhythm.