Dreams of Fire in the Golden Grove -
Late in the afternoon, Candela arrived in the quiet village where Tom lived, only to find that he was nowhere to be found. Unfazed, the striking Latina decided to explore the surroundings, her steps purposeful, her gaze keen. In a small, cluttered souvenir shop, she discovered an old, beautifully crafted sword. Though merely a piece of decor, it drew her in with an undeniable allure. After some persuasive charm and a handful of cash, the shopkeeper reluctantly agreed to let it go.
As a skilled and passionate swordswoman, Candela felt the blade’s weight settle comfortably in her grip. She made her way into the nearby woods, finding a secluded clearing where golden evening light spilled through the autumn-painted trees. The air was filled with the earthy scent of fallen leaves, crisp and vibrant, a perfect contrast to her own fiery spirit. The sun hung low, casting a warm, amber glow over the forest and illuminating her in hues that felt like a reflection of her own energy.
With practiced precision, Candela moved through her stances, her form merging with the pulse of the forest around her. Each swing of the sword sliced through the air as though testing its mettle against the tranquil scene. She had dreamt of a sword forged from fire, a blade that matched her essence, wild and untamed. In the quiet of the clearing, she could almost feel its heat in her grasp, an extension of her will.
As she practiced, her thoughts wandered to Dystopia, to the creatures that awaited her there, lurking in the shadows. They would soon taste the wrath of her element, her fire, and she would bring them to their knees, igniting their fear like dry tinder. Candela’s eyes gleamed with fierce resolve, her spirit aflame as she honed her strength in the golden autumn light, preparing herself for the battles yet to come.
