The atmosphere was still vibrant – the festival had drawn to an end, but the streets of Valestra were vibrating with a lasting hum of happiness. Traditional paper lanterns were gently swinging in the wind, creating warm patches of light on cobblestone roads. The air was thick with the smells of exotic spices and baked sweets, getting fainter through the night. Most of the city’s citizens and guests had long retired to the comfort of their rented rooms – however, Lyra, Tharion, and Viana were pulled to one of the towers like iron to a magnet. After midnight, three silhouettes were perched against the towering walls of the stone structure, their legs dangling coincidentally over the edge. The sky stretched endlessly overhead, a vast expanse of darkness untouched by any limit or boundary. Stars gleamed like scattered diamonds, while the Moon hung low, casting a silver glow that enveloped them, creating an illusion of time standing still. Tharion reclined, his hands gripping the cold

With the moon high up in the night sky, shining its silvery beams into the environs, a dream-like atmosphere enveloped them as they journeyed through the wilds. Zarekth took the lead, his presence commanding against the contrast of dark trees and the vast expanse of the sky. Moving with purpose, his silver eyes focused intently on the path ahead, as if guided by unseen forces within the shadows.Following behind, the remaining members of the group proceeded at a slower, more relaxed tempo.Tharion was several paces ahead of Lyra and Viana, his excitement evident in his buoyant steps. A scroll was clutched in his hand, though its contents seemed more a source of curiosity than necessity.Further back, Lyra and Viana ambled along. Viana stretched dramatically, a yawn escaping her lips. “Does he ever slow down?” she grumbled, nodding toward Zarekth.Lyra chuckled, glancing at Zarekth’s rigid back.“I don’t think he knows how. Maybe he’s worried the stars will outrun him if he stops to

Lyra’s steps slowed as her gaze locked on the imposing figure standing ahead. Against the backdrop of molten rivers and glowing embers, the man looked as though he had stepped straight from the heart of the volcano itself. His fiery red hair resembled living flames, flickering and shifting with every subtle movement. Scars marred his forge-blackened skin, and his sleeveless tunic, patched with heat-seared leather, exposed his muscular arms. His blazing eyes, alight with a dangerous intensity, were fixed on Zarekth, a smirk tugging at his lips that seemed equal parts amusement and warning.Lyra’s stomach churned at the sight of him. “Who’s he?” she whispered, jabbing Tharion in the side without looking away.Tharion, who had been distracted by the sheer beauty of Emberfall’s smoldering expanse, turned to follow her gaze. His eyes widened as he took in the figure. “That must be him… Ignir,” he murmured in awe. “The god of fire and forge. It has to be. He’s said to be the master of

Dawn crept into Emberfall with an ominous rhythm, the sound of drums breaking the silence of the early hours. They started faintly, a distant rumble that grew louder, more insistent. Lyra stirred from sleep, the heat of the city pressing down on her even now. The deep voices of chants mingled with the steady beat, and then came the sound of a horn—its mournful wail slicing through the heavy air.She sat up, her heart racing. A quick glance around the dimly lit room revealed what she feared most: Zarekth was gone.Her breath hitched. “It’s the fight,” she whispered to herself.Without a second thought, she scrambled to wake the others. “Tharion! Viana! Wake up, now!”Tharion groaned, rubbing his eyes as he sat up. “What’s going on?”“It’s Zarekth,” Lyra said, already gathering her things. “He’s not here. The fight—it’s starting.”Viana was already on her feet, pulling her cloak around her. “We need to move. Quickly.”The three of them hurriedly prepared, their movements frantic as

The air in the arena still buzzed with tension as Zarekth and Ignir faced each other, their weapons colliding in a deafening clash of divine power. Sparks shot out in all directions, making the ground tremble underfoot. Just moments before, the crowd had been cheering with excitement, their voices filling the air. Now, they stood completely silent, holding their breath in awe of what was unfolding. Zarekth dashed forward, his silver eyes locked onto Ignir's fiery stare. Each swing of his sword was a blend of precise skill and fierce anger, compelling Ignir to face him directly. Ignir smirked with confidence, lifting his hammer to fend off another blow. "This is what I'm talking about," he declared, his voice cutting through the hushed crowd, making sure everyone could hear him over the fading noise.But then Ignir did something unexpected. With a sharp twist, he threw his hammer aside, the massive weapon embedding itself into the scorched ground. Zarekth, caught in the momentum