Stormfront returned to Ceiala and made their way back to their command quarters to convene with Byron. The first few minutes were spent debriefing their performance, followed by an analysis of the threat.

"The mission was a resounding success. We arrived in time to prevent any casualties," Korra detailed. "The Infernal threat was larger than we had anticipated, but it wasn't anything we couldn't handle."

"It was a snoozefest," Jaric interjected. "The food was great, though."

Byron shook his head, a faint smile curling his lips. "What about you, Raynor? How'd you perform?"

"Well, about that," Korra answered, directing Byron's gaze toward Jaric.

"Ah, I see. Great work, Jaric."

Raynor, who had been silently leaning against the wall, arms crossed, looked up. "How's D doing?"

Byron's expression softened. "He is awake—"

Before Byron could finish, Raynor sprinted out of the room, his footsteps echoing down the hallway.

Byron smiled before turning his attention back to Korra and Jaric. "Continue with the report."

Korra nodded, glancing briefly at the door Raynor had just bolted through. "Similarly to Asedal, the number of Infernals this time around was more than double the usual. The Rift was also much larger. Again, it wasn't anything we couldn't handle, but it was a noticeable change."

"This cannot be a coincidence." Byron pondered. "I shall inform the Sacred Council. Take the rest of the day off."

"That's the best thing you've said all week," Jaric replied, walking over to Korra and throwing his arm around her shoulders. "What should we eat?"

"How are you still hungry? You just ate."

"You know my metabolism's a beast of its own. I have to keep it fed, and right now, it's craving Pyrocrust."

Korra's face perked up. "Pyrocrust? With extra cheese?"

Jaric smirked. "As much cheese as you want," he whispered in her ear.

Her eyes widened, and her jaw drooped a bit. "Okay, fine. You win." She wrapped her arms around his torso, and they both walked to the door, muttering amongst themselves. 

—x—

On the opposite side of the premises, Raynor slid into a white wall as he sprinted around one of the many corners of the seemingly endless hallways. He weaved between the few people standing and walking in his path, causing a few to shout their frustrations at him. However, their words fell on deaf ears. He was focused on getting to the third room at the end of the hallway as quickly as possible. Nothing else mattered.

He skidded to a halt and forced the door open, revealing a shocked Daimen playing with an alerted Pyru. Raynor took a moment to catch his breath before shouting, "D!" His eyes then settled on Pyru, who relaxed after recognizing his presence. "And...Pyru?"

Raynor walked into the room and closed the door behind him, his eyes not leaving Pyru as he sauntered over to Daimen's side.

"Is that really him?" Raynor asked, confused.

"It's him. I was just as shocked as you when he first appeared," Daimen chuckled.

Pyru flew over to Raynor, circled around him, and landed on his right shoulder. It released a happy shriek in his ear, causing him to flinch slightly.

"Yeah, it's him, alright," Raynor said, rubbing his finger in his ear. "Does this mean—" He paused. "Wait. Before that... How are you feeling? Anything broken?"

"Um, no. Not that I can tell. I feel as good as new."

"Good." Raynor sighed and punched Daimen on the shoulder.

"Ow," Daimen chuckled. "I think I've been beaten enough."

Raynor chuckled along with him, but it quickly faded, his face heavy with concern. "You're not allowed to ever scare me like that again."

"Yeah, sorry about that," Daimen glanced down at his hands, fiddling with his fingers. "That wasn't my best moment."

Raynor pulled the wooden chair next to the bed and slumped down in it. He then scratched Pyru under its beak, causing it to almost melt away in bliss.

"So, you've inherited it, huh? What did the old man have to say?" Raynor asked.

"He was spooked, like he saw a Shadow Drifter or something," Daimen chuckled. "He was going to send me back to Ahwahl before Pyru appeared." His voice fell to a near whisper.

"I don't blame him. He almost lost you, D." Raynor paused. "You know, he refused to leave your side. It took Korra to convince him to eat something." He sighed. "It almost broke him."

"I know, but—" Daimen muttered. "He doesn't think I'm ready, and I wanted to prove him wrong. But it looks like he was right. I'm not ready." 

Raynor remained silent, his focus locked on Daimen's every word. 

"I don't want to have to keep hiding behind him or anyone." Daimen clenched his fists. "So, I will get stronger—even stronger than you." 

Raynor smiled. "That's a bold claim. I'm no pushover." They both laughed. "But I believe in you, D. I know you can accomplish whatever you put your mind to. And I'll continue to be by your side every step of the way." 

"Thanks, Ray." 

Raynor extended his balled fist, and Daimen did the same, bumping their fists together. 

"You know I got you, D. Always."

—x—

At the northern edge of the city stood a colossal mountain unlike any other. Its steep, serpentine slopes were blanketed by a lush, dense forest, while its peak, hidden by a drifting sea of white clouds, pierced the heavens. On its eastern side, a majestic river cascaded down, pooling into a shimmering lake that sparkled under the moonlight. This was Ceiyr's Peak—the holiest site in the Realm. 

Nestled at its base was the Sacred Hall, an expansive building adorned in Ceiala's signature white and gold. It was, without doubt, the most divine and sophisticated structure within the city, its archaic design instantly evoking its profound significance and rich history.

Within the heart of the Sacred Hall, Byron pushed open two towering stone doors and entered the vast chamber of the Sacred Council. What greeted him was nothing short of grandiose: unreasonably large white columns stretched twenty feet up to the ceiling, and a large skylight fractured the moonlight, scattering silver beams that danced across the polished stone floor. Beautiful, multicolored crystal lamps lined the walls, bathing their rugged surfaces with a breath of color and warmth, while a soothing, somewhat angelic aroma wafted through the air. The space exuded an aura of divinity, saturated with Alnar's godly essence.

At the far end of the room, a long stone table curved into a perfect semicircle, decorated with seven intricate and prominent emblems evenly spaced along its white surface. Each emblem glowed faintly, casting an ethereal light in the dimly lit hall. 

There were seven seats, each for one of the seven Holy Pillars of Ceiala. Of the seven, only three were occupied by Dr. Jyro Zephyri (of House Zephyri), Thorn Durnan (of House Durnan), and Lyra Valtari (of House Valtari). They were all noticeably a decade or two past their prime, but their immense auras argued otherwise, radiating power and authority.

Byron walked to the front of the table, aligning himself with its curved center. His footsteps echoed softly on the polished stone floor, adding to the tension in the air. Before he spoke, he caught a glimpse of a young woman in her late twenties standing guard at the left edge of the table—the Grand Morlyn, Ruege Fel'roe. Her armor was intricate and well-fitted, reflecting the meticulous craftsmanship of Ceialan artisans. It shimmered under the moonlight streaming through a high window, detailed with the same white and gold that decorated the garbs of the Holy Pillars. Her expression was stoic, but her eyes were vigilant, tracking every movement with precision.

Byron cleared his throat. "Esteemed Pillars," he began with a slight bow, his voice echoing throughout the quiet hall. "I've come to share some interesting findings regarding the recent Incursions."

The Holy Pillars shifted in their seats, their somewhat relaxed expressions now serious, casting long shadows on the walls.

Lyra leaned forward as she rubbed the silver circlet that dangled from her neck, the metal catching the light and gleaming. "What have your squad observed?" she asked, her voice sharp and clear.

"The Nether Rifts that spawned within Asedal and outside Zernal were both abnormal: larger in size. The Infernals' numbers doubled along with their intensity. I do not believe this to be a mere coincidence," Byron replied, his tone grave.

Dr. Jyro stroked his gray‐peppered beard thoughtfully. "An escalation is plausible. Angel Eye has recently detected a slight increase in Nether Energy levels within the Realm. I initially thought nothing of it as such things aren't entirely uncommon."

Thorn slammed his fist onto the stone table, the impact resonating like a thunderclap. "That damned, Syon! What is he up to now?" His voice was a growl, filled with barely restrained fury.

"Have you gotten any closer to uncovering the Syon Order's whereabouts?" Lyra asked, her voice calm but edged with urgency.

"No. They continue to elude us," Byron said, a hint of frustration in his voice.

“[Years] years.” Lyra sighed heavily as she leaned back into her chair with her eyes closed. "The Nether has plagued our Realm for far too long. We must bring an end to it."

"And we will. Rest assured, they will be found," Byron said confidently, though his eyes betrayed a flicker of doubt.

"How's the boy?" Dr. Jyro asked. "His body seemed to have been responding well to the Heaven's Ale treatment."

"He has recovered," Byron confirmed.

"Has he shown any signs of potentially inheriting the Phoenix Core?" Thorn asked bluntly, his eyes narrowing.

"That is not why I brought him here," Byron responded, his voice stern, a dangerous edge creeping in.

Thorn leaned forward, his gaze intense. "He is our best chance at combating The Nether. He needs to step up and fulfill his duty as the heir to the A'taro Clan."

Byron clenched his fist and jaw, his muscles tensing visibly. This action alone caused Ruege to reach for the hilt of her sword, her eyes locking onto Byron with a flash of readiness. Realizing this, Byron took a deep breath to calm himself, the tension in the room palpable.

"He's not ready for that responsibility. He's still a child," Byron insisted, his voice strained but controlled.

"He is seventeen years old. Were you not much younger when you joined the fight?" Thorn pressed, his tone relentless. "His age is no excuse."

"That's enough, Thorn," Lyra intervened, her voice cutting through the rising tension like a blade.

The tension between the two men was thick. Both seemed ready to go at it at a moment's notice, the air around them crackling with unspoken threats.

"I do understand your concern, Byron. But the Realm needs the Phoenix," Dr. Jyro added, his tone conciliatory but firm.

"He will fight when he's ready," Byron said before turning and walking away, his footsteps echoing ominously.

"Byron," Lyra called out, her voice softer but insistent. "You can't keep him from his destiny."

Byron scoffed and walked out of the room without uttering a single word, the door closing behind him with a finality that echoed through the hall.