The valley rang not with battle, but with the clash of practice. Ashbound torches flared against Emberkin torches, fire meeting smoke in controlled strikes. The dawn sky watched as two peoples tested their strength.
Kael strode through the ranks, blade gleaming. "Hold your torches steady! Ashbound, learn the rhythm of smoke. Emberkin, feel the weight of flame. Together, you must move as one."
The Emberkin's torches burned strangely—flame bright, smoke curling upward like memory. Their strikes were slower, deliberate, each movement carrying the patience of years in hiding. The Ashbound, scarred but fierce, fought with urgency, their torches blazing fast and hot.
At first, the clash was awkward. Flame surged too quickly, smoke lingered too long. But as the hours passed, rhythm emerged. Smoke shielded flame, flame ignited smoke. Their torches wove together, a dance of endurance and hope.
Elira watched from the council circle, her crown pulsing faintly. She whispered, "Flame alone falters. Smoke alone hides. But together… they endure."
An elder of the Emberkin stepped forward, his torch trailing smoke that wrapped around Kael's blade. "We hid for generations, but now we fight. Smoke remembers. Flame renews. Together, we will break the night."
The Ashbound raised their torches, the Emberkin answering in kind. Fire and smoke mingled, rising into the dawn sky.
Kael's voice rang out, steady and fierce. "This is our strength. Not flame alone. Not smoke alone. But both, bound together. When night falls again, Marlic will face more than flame—he will face memory itself."
The training continued, torches blazing brighter with every strike. The alliance was no longer fragile—it was becoming a weapon.