Golden Glade first dawn

The moonlight glinted off the polished surface of the bird's skull as he placed it among the other sacred objects, the gesture fluid and reverent.

His head bowed slightly, acknowledging both the power of the shrine and the presence of the two women whose own contributions held equal weight. Mictec’s voice rang clear, weaving an invocation that resonated deeply within the sacred space. He listened in silence, his respect for her and the ceremony evident in the stillness of his form.

Qvasir stepped back, his sharp features unreadable yet calm, embodying steadfast devotion. This was a sacred moment, one that did not require words—only presence, humility, and unwavering faith.