The sky above the Vale was dark and quiet, the stars veiled by thin, shivering clouds. I sat cross-legged near the ancient stone circle, the scent of burned grass still clinging to my skin from my loss of control days ago. My hands bore faint scorch marks—reminders of the Moonfire Wrath I had barely survived. Orrin hadn't spoken much since that night. Neither had I. There was nothing left to say. Only one trial remained.
Tonight, I would either finish the path of the Moon-Blessed—or fail.
Orrin emerged from the mist like a memory, his silver hair glinting in the moonlight, staff in hand, eyes unreadable.
"It is time," he said simply.
I stood. My legs trembled, not from fear, but from the weight of everything I had seen, endured, and nearly lost.
"You told me I was almost ready," I said. "That I needed one last trial. What is it?"
