At the back of the Royal Palace, where the winds always carried the scent of enchanted herbs and the leaves never fell out of sync with the seasons, lay the vast Training Ground, an arena forged from moonstones and roots woven together by time. It was there that the warriors of the royal lineage learned, bled, and awoke to the power hidden in their own veins.
That morning, the sky was covered in a golden mist, a sign that magic was thick in the air... so dense that it made the edges of vision flicker. The three young women were already in position, their eyes sharp, their muscles tense, and their hearts beating to the sound of invisible drums that only true warriors heard before a confrontation.
In the center of the field, Eleonor floated gently above the ground, her black dress billowing like living smoke. Her eyes were half-closed, but her mind was focused on every breath, every pulse of aura around her.
"This is going to be fun," she thought, smiling.
