As the last of the distortion faded and the world settled into place, Lysara found herself once more standing within the coliseum.
Around her, the other trial applicants were beginning to reappear—some dazed, others breathless, all marked in some way by what they had endured. The vast arena, carved in smooth obsidian and etched with mana-reactive runes, pulsed faintly beneath their feet. The crowd above had fallen silent, watching.
At the center of the coliseum stood Riven and his generals, their presence grounding the chaos like the eye of a storm. Overhead, a colossal mirror-like portal shimmered in the sky—its surface fluid and luminous, replaying fragments of the trial for all to see. Flames and illusions danced across its glassy surface, echoing with the soundless memories of battle, survival, and power.
