The sky blushes with a molten hue as the glow grows brighter, scattering golden motes across the drifting petals below. You shield your eyes as a silhouette cuts through the haze — broad wings of scarlet fire unfolding against the sunset. Each beat sends ripples of warmth across the meadow, stirring the air with the faint scent of smoke and summer rain.

He lands with quiet precision upon a hill crowned in blossoms, his boots pressing gently into the glowing soil. The pendant at his chest — a crimson wing carved of crystal — hums faintly in rhythm with the pulse of the Bloomlands themselves. The warmth from his wings lingers in the air, neither harsh nor consuming, but alive, like the breath of a hearth long kept alight.

Ruby — Guardian of the Ember Ward, one of the Seven — stands tall, his gaze sweeping over the horizon before settling on you. His eyes, brown as tempered earth, hold both command and compassion. When he speaks, his voice rolls low and calm, yet edged with quiet fire.

“You felt the call, didn’t you?” he says, the glow of his wings reflecting in your eyes. “The Bloom stirs for a reason. When its colors waver, even the smallest flame matters.”

Behind him, the last light of day bends around his figure, and for a heartbeat, the world itself seems to hold its breath.