The basin was silent as if afraid of distributing this sacred moment. Seven frozen corpses lay scattered among the shattered pillars, their bodies already crumbling into crystalline dust. The wind whispered through the canyon, carrying their remains away.
Khione stood alone in the center of the destruction, her clothes torn, her skin marked with wounds, her wings broken. She was a ruin.
''Huff! Huff!"
But she was alive. And she had grown.
She could feel it—not just in her spells, which were sharper now, more refined. In herself. The cold of this place had become part of her. The ancient patience of the ice, the brutal necessity of survival, the understanding that power alone was not enough.
She needed precision. Adaptability. The will to endure.
She had learned that lesson today, carved into her flesh.
