The sky above Dolan City had turned the color of a fresh bruise, purple and swollen with the pressure of the closing rifts. The air tasted of ash and copper. At the southern staging grounds, near the jagged hole where the second gate used to be, hundreds of Soul Evolvers gathered. They were a mix of city guards in polished steel and mercenaries in scarred leather, all forming a desperate line against the encroaching tide.
Egon walked toward the command tent, his steps heavy and rhythmic. To his left, Noella moved with a fluid, predatory grace, her hand never straying far from the hilt of the Shadow Sword. To his right, Vienna walked with a newfound posture, her emerald eyes bright with a spark that had never been there before. She carried no steel, but the air around her hummed with the vibrant energy of a living forest.
