The Ashbound and Emberkin trained through dawn, their torches weaving fire and smoke in steady rhythm. Each strike felt sharper, each movement more unified. Hope flickered in their hearts.
But as the sun climbed higher, strange omens stirred. Smoke curled across the valley where no fire burned. The earth trembled faintly beneath their feet, as if something deep below was breathing.
Kael halted the training, blade raised. "This is not ours. Shadow moves beneath us."
Elira's crown pulsed, memory whispering faintly: "He rebuilds. He waits. Grief does not sleep."
The warriors stood silent, torches blazing against daylight. Suspense hung heavy—the storm had not yet returned, but its echo was already stirring.