Far above the mortal realm, in the distant celestial planes where gods and immortals watched over the cosmos, the ripple of golden lightning reverberated like a thunderclap. It had been centuries since such power had been seen—since the heavens had been shaken by an energy so profound, so divine.
The gods stirred, their attention drawn to the mortal plane where the lightning had struck. Whispers echoed through the ether, voices filled with both curiosity and concern.
"Who dares wield such power?"
"It must be a chosen one—a force of destiny."
"Find the source! The golden lightning belongs to the realm of gods, not mortals."
Yet for all their power and omniscience, the gods could not pinpoint the exact location of the one who had unleashed the storm. The golden light had flared across the heavens, but the moment it faded, so did its trace. There was no sign of Pyris Obsidian or the Grove where the power had been unleashed.
