The Sanctum's vibrant atmosphere was a shield against the looming missions, but the shadow of their tasks grew heavier in their mind while their classmates prepared for their own trials in distant towns, their voices was a mix of excitement and dread.
Evenings were spent in the beast pens, a sprawling network of rune-etched enclosures where beasts roamed, their scales, feathers, and plates kept gleaming under the care of tamers, the air was filled with the scent of beast feed and polished leather.
Kelvin brushed Xerion's scales with a rune-etched comb, the serpent's hiss was soft as he leaned into the touch, his warmth was easing Kelvin's fear of Valebreach's mines, their bond was a steady flame that burned through his doubt.
He spent hours grooming, ensuring every scale gleamed, his amulet warm as he worked, Xerion's amber eyes were vigilant.
