Dawn slowly crept towards them like a thief, chasing away the veil of night above them.
The sun rose slow and golden behind the 27th Peak, its light crawling across the mountain's frozen face like a jealous lover. Snowflakes glimmered like sparks in the pale light, and the wind, though still sharp, had gentled with the coming of morning.
The makeshift camp was already gone. The tents had been packed, the fires stamped out, and the smoke that had curled lazily just hours before had now dispersed.
What remained was a crowd of hopefuls, lean figures wrapped in cloaks, armored men and women with hard eyes, young prodigies brimming with energy, all gathered before the great sealed gates of Carthage.
Ren stood with Lilith and Thorn at the outer edge of the crowd, his gaze sweeping over the field of competitors.
