The skies above Arcadia had never been so calm. The ashstorms were dispersed, the Emberpetal Garden flourished anew, and the Hall of Echoes shone in restored splendor. Yet beneath the placid blue, I sensed a tremor of portent. As the architects gathered in the Grand Assembly Hall at dawn, the Origin Halo's ring pulsed in muted rhythm—an invitation and a warning.
Seraphina, Yuria, Valmira, Astraea, Zephira, and I stood before Nilthria's brazier. The flame spirit hovered above, its eyes flickering like living coals.
"Architects," Nilthria intoned, "you have reclaimed history, banished ash, and forged unity. Now remains Trial Eight: The Heart of the Storm. You must enter the storm's eye—where magic, fury, and fate converge—and prove that calm can be born from chaos."
I exchanged looks with my companions. None faltered. Each trial had taught us something irrevocable about ourselves. Now we faced the core of all power unleashed. I raised my staff. "Then we go together."
