Kelvin, Darius and their beasts sprawled in the aftermath of their latest triumph.
The relics from the Proving Grounds, the Apex Stalker's fang, the mirror shard, and the runic orb that rested on a table, their faint pulses releases a reminder of the trio's ascent toward the Inner Sanctum.
Xerion, the End-Tyrant, curled in a corner with his obsidian scales shining, while Rhoam, Darius's thick-armored panther, sprawled near the door, his iron-like plates clinking softly.
Lyra, however, was conspicuously out of place, her hair splayed across a makeshift bed of blankets on the floor, Avian Salaris perched nearby where Lyra is.
Kelvin sat against the wall with his gauntlet warmed up against his wrist, tracing Xerion's sigil as he reviewed the notes from Master Sylva's seminar.
Darius lounged on his cot and tossed a soulstone idly, while Lyra, despite the late hour, read through a scroll on shadow runes, her amulet, was glowing faintly.
