The tunnel beyond the cavern seemed to stretch into infinity, a narrow passage lined with jagged stones that gleamed faintly in the dim light of the Heartstone. Every step echoed in the silence, a rhythmic reminder of the daunting journey that still lay ahead. Elara led the way, her resolve fortified by the victory over her inner darkness, but the weight of what was yet to come pressed heavily on her shoulders.
They moved in single file, their silence reflecting a shared understanding—each had faced their own demons, and each had emerged with scars that would not easily fade. Lyra's hand was clenched tightly around the hilt of her sword, the usual confidence in her stance slightly diminished. Seraphina's wings, once proudly spread, now rested close to her back, a sign of the emotional toll the trial had taken. Morgana's face was impassive, but her eyes held a haunted look, as if the shadows she had faced still lingered at the edges of her vision.