Lyon gripped the mallet tightly, his fingers curling around it. It was a simple yet profound tool, a conduit for the ancient power that lay dormant within the Gong of Thousand Lords. As he held it, he could feel the weight of the possibilities it held, the choices that loomed before him.
Kesya furrowed her brows and pointed towards the horizon where a vast army was moving towards them. The rising sun glinted off their armor, their expressions masked in grim determination.
"First thing at dawn, they didn't dawdle at least," Kesya smirked.
Lyon stepped forward, every move echoing with Maria's voice, guiding him through a flood of memories. Each step was a dance in the rain, a shared laughter until tears flowed, a hidden waterfall discovered, a secret kept just between them. His path was painted with their moments - the joy, the sorrow, the love they'd shared.
