The next day arrived with a crisp morning breeze.
Alaric stood at the center of the manor's private training hall, clad in a dark, form-fitted tunic made of reinforced linen, its sleeves tied at the forearm with leather cords. His trousers were tucked into well-worn riding boots, and a pair of fingerless gloves wrapped around his hands, scuffed from hours of bladework.
The hall itself was an impressive space—high vaulted ceilings, mirrored walls, and an array of practice weapons mounted along the sides.
Selene had originally commissioned this chamber for Elina's combat instruction, sparing no expense on the specialized equipment and reinforced flooring designed to withstand intensive training.
Now, she had granted Alaric exclusive access to prepare for the Phoenix Trials.
Wooden training dummies stood like silent sentinels, while weighted practice swords hung from custom racks.
The morning light streamed through tall windows, casting geometric patterns across the stone floor.
