The morning sun hung low and blood-red over the Godoka plains, casting long, spindly shadows across the dirt clearing.
Standing in a rigid line were the five recruits: Austin, Joran, Rix, and two other youths named Kale and Mira.
They were all dressed in simple leather tunics, their faces a mixture of apprehension and grim resolve.
Pacing slowly in front of them, her boots crunching rhythmically on the dry earth, was Shina.
She was a vision of controlled intensity. Her silver-blonde hair was tied back in a tight, practical braid, and she wore lightweight steel greaves over her boots.
Her hands were clasped firmly behind her back, and her eyes—a piercing, unnatural violet—seemed to hum with an inner light.
"Listen well," Shina began, her voice like cold iron. "Aura is not a gift. It is a rebellion. It is the soul's refusal to be snuffed out by the world. To awaken like me, you cannot simply pray for it. You must demand it."
