The Taishin Dojo, surrounded by drifting mist and the low rumble of waterfalls. Its walls were carved from blackened stone simple, strong, and ancient, just like the warriors it had trained for centuries.
Inside, silence ruled. Only the faint crackle of burning incense and the distant sound of flowing water filled the air.
At the center of the stone floor sat Juno Arkai, cross-legged, shirtless, his body marked with faint, glowing patterns, the opened Taishin Gates pulsing in quiet rhythm. His breathing was deep and steady, but each exhale trembled with suppressed strain.
Before him stood his mentor Master Vince.
A towering man, broad-shouldered and calm, his presence alone seemed to hold the mountain still.
His faded cloak bore the Taishin insignia, a spiraling sigil resembling a coiled dragon of bone and muscle. His hair, long and cut into a rugged mullet, caught the dim light like steel.
