That morning, Aurion's grand gates opened under Dawnbinder's radiance.
The air shimmered with light as two mighty processions entered. The Nephralis sect members clad in crimson-gold armor that pulsed with inner flame and the Varkhaal sect members cloaked in rolling umbral mist that swallowed light itself.
Their pride marched before them. Even though they were stripped of heavy armaments, arrogance clung to their steps like a second aura.
Behind them, Dawnbinder's sentinels followed in silence. Their eyes gleamed faintly in vigilance.
No citizen dared approach. Even ten meters away, the crowd held its breath. The two sects felt less like guests and more like an advancing plague.
High above, Lucien and Marie stood on a balcony overlooking the spectacle.
"Look at them strut," Marie muttered. "You'd think they owned the place."
Lucien's gaze was cold and unreadable. "Let them. The prouder they walk, the harder they'll fall."
