There was a small pond nestled within the peaks of Suncrest. Like any mountain pond, it seemed unremarkable, a place where even the youngest third-generation disciples could play without stirring up murky waters. Its clarity earned it the name Eternal Clarity Pond.
Other than its perpetually clear water, the pond had no distinctive features. It wasn't large enough to be considered a lake, held only a few small fish, and wasn't particularly beautiful. When Aiden chose this place as the backyard for his hut and declared it a place to train disciples, even Gideon did not object. After all, it held no strategic or practical value—perhaps only suitable as a source of drinking water.
Yet there stood Aria, gazing out over the pond.
A gentle mountain breeze swept through, scattering the eternal cherry blossoms of Suncrest, which had bloomed undisturbed for thirty years. The delicate petals danced across the pond's surface, creating an understated elegance.
