The first light of morning spilled over the tournament arena, painting the marble tiles in gold and crimson. A faint mist still lingered in the air, curling around the towering stone pillars that bore the banners of the Five Peaks. The vast stands were already alive with voices, the crowd buzzing with speculation and excitement after the previous day's fierce battles.
On the arena floor, the last echoes of the fourth round had faded with the rising sun. Broken fragments of spelllight and cracked stone bore witness to the duels fought through the night. Of the thousands who had stepped into the trials, only two hundred and fifty now stood upon the sacred ground. Their robes were torn, their breathing heavy, but their eyes burned with the determination of those who had survived the crucible.
