The runes of the teleportation circle finally ceased to glow as Kael, Erika and Eva's feet touched the sacred ground of the Academy of Azalith.
The arcane reception hall enveloped them with its imposing vastness. Ancient columns stood like pillars from a forgotten age, supporting an enchanted ceiling where magical constellations moved slowly, as if watching the newcomers. It was a silent, reverent, almost sacred space - a place where few returned after braving the depths of the dungeons. And yet, there they were.
The air there was different - lighter, purer - as if the academy itself recognized the presence of those who had defied death and returned. But for Kael, it was more than that. Breathing that air was like swallowing a mixture of nostalgia and unease. Something in the atmosphere seemed charged. Perhaps it was the echoes of what they had left behind. Or the consequences of what was yet to come.
