The descent into the valley of Oakhaven was a triumphant, blinding streak of holy light. Lucian did not attempt to mask their arrival or slip quietly through the upper atmosphere. The Solar Phoenix folded his massive plasma wings at the very last second, decelerating with absolute, flawless precision. He set his boots gently upon the silver grass of the courtyard, releasing his secure hold on the Warlord.
The sanctuary was completely transformed.
The eternal twilight that had previously blanketed the valley was entirely gone. A pristine, brilliant morning sun illuminated the estate, perfectly matching the warm radiance of Lucian's fading wings. The air was a breathtaking, perfectly balanced mixture of crisp northern winter, salty eastern tide, and the comforting, deep warmth of the southern leylines.
