PHASE THREE —
THE ASCENT BEGINS
The third day dawned with a strange kind of stillness.
Not the peaceful sort of calm that came with sunrise over the island's coast, nor the tense quiet before a confrontation. It was another kind—something like the island holding its breath, as though some unseen mechanism deep beneath its soil had begun to turn.
Mist crawled low across the forest floor. Dew gathered along the canvas of tents, sliding down in thin rivulets. Early sunlight filtered through the treetops in fractured shafts, scattering light in ways that made even familiar shapes appear foreign. The air tasted metallic, faintly charged, as if thunderclouds lingered just beyond sight.
Arios Pureheart felt it the moment he stepped outside the newly reinforced perimeter.
