The next day at Wendlock School, dawn poured like molten gold across the training field. Trainees from every faction assembled in neat lines—red, green, blue, and white forming a patchwork of color beneath the spreading boughs. At the front of the room, stood Teacher Devein, a tall, austere figure whose robes was long that gently touch the floor. Before him, on a stone plinth, lay an opened copy of the Book of Orion—its pages alive with faint glyphs and a soft, otherworldly glow that pulsed to the rhythm of the forest itself.
"Trainees," Devein began, his voice clear as a bell yet carrying the weight of years, "today you will shape your first weapon. Those among you who have advanced further may attempt a second form—but do not rush. A weapon is not merely forged; it is born from intent."
