The Power Charts Part 5

The silence after Dareth's defeat lingered longer than usual, clinging to the Training Grounds like mist that refused to lift. Riven remained still, his hand resting against the hilt of his sword, the echo of consumed fire still whispering faintly across the scorched tiles.

But even that quiet was soon broken.

A subtle shift passed through the crowd—not in sound, but in presence. Robes rustled as figures arrived at the edge of the field, unnoticed at first, then acknowledged with widening eyes and bowed heads.

The Elders had come.

A procession of masters, each veiled in subtle auras of power, stepped up to the elevated viewing platform—drawn not by invitation, but by necessity. Among them stood Archmage Elara, her purple robes billowing softly as she surveyed the ring. Her expression was unreadable, though her eyes never left Riven.

She wasn't the only one watching now.