The morning sun cast a golden hue over the sanctuary, its rays filtering through the dense canopy of Jungoria, illuminating patches of the training grounds where the sanctuary's defenders were already deep in their routines.
I stood at the edge, a silent observer, drawn by an inexplicable pull towards the rhythmic clash of steel and the controlled cadence of their movements.
These warriors, clad in leather and armour, moved with a precision that spoke of years, perhaps decades, of rigorous training.
Their swords arced through the air in flawless harmony, their footwork a dance of deadly intent.
They were the embodiment of discipline and strength, each strike, each parry, a testament to their unwavering commitment to the sanctuary's safety.
Watching them, something stirred within me, a spark that Mara's lessons in the forest had first kindled.
