The heat of the chamber had faded, leaving only the faint shimmer of molten light rippling across the walls.
The air was still thick with the scent of ash and old magic — but the fire’s fury was gone.
In its place, there was silence. Deep, uneasy silence.
Eryndor stood at the heart of the cooling chamber, his head bowed slightly, hands trembling at his sides.
The others watched from a short distance — unsure whether to approach, unsure what stood before them now.
Finally, Aria took a step forward. “Eryndor,” she said quietly. “Can you hear me?”
He turned slowly, and for an instant, Aria’s heart stuttered.
His eyes… were no longer the deep, earthy gold they once were. They shifted — faintly, like the surface of a river under moonlight — silver and gold intertwining, alive with power.
