The workers assemble the bleachers with their usual casual indifference. It’s always hard to believe the stage will be ready on time, but the miracle will occur again tonight, as always. Positioned facing the sea, the stage benefits from incredible lighting and a stunning backdrop, crowned by a breathtaking view of the Rampart. Below, in the harbor that serves as the staging ground for what is—let’s be honest—the Reconquest Endeavor, the energy is even more tangible. Troops disembark regularly, equipment arrives in containers, camps are erected by Faction, and permanent structures are starting to take shape. There’s a palpable fervor, a collective eagerness to take part in the exploration of this "new" territory. But for now, it’s a time to rejoice, to celebrate the dawn of this new hope for humanity. The Lyra have decided to mark the occasion with a spectacular performance featuring the very best talent! Tonight, the magic will happen, and every noteworthy explorer will gather to share in the wonder. Soon after, the time will come to carve paths and face a thousand unexpected dangers, whether in the jungle, the mountains, or the swamps—and undoubtedly for many long weeks.

Awmar loves to watch the setup. It’s a habit that dates back to his childhood when he would accompany his parents on their performances. Since then, he’s adored wandering amidst the clutter of crates, cables, and metal frameworks. For him, haunting the venue before rehearsals is crucial. A performance isn’t just about the act itself—it’s also about the setting, the acoustics, the distances, and the scale. Understanding all these elements is key to achieving the best effect and pulling every string of his art so that each spectator experiences a truly unique moment. As he meanders, Awmar comes across the poster announcing the festivities:

Follows a list of names of prestigious artists and performers—a real feast for the eyes for the adventurers before their departure. Curious, Awmar leans over the list to see the peers Auraq will share the spotlight with. He reads the names aloud, stopping for a moment on his stage name with a smile. Then, as he continues, he suddenly halts, catching a name out of the corner of his eye, one that seems to rise from the depths of time: Nyala. "You’ve got to be kidding me," he thinks, unable to suppress the thought. After the disappointment of the inauguration ceremony, where that damn Nev had pulled a nasty trick on him, fate had to twist the knife yet again.

Nyala. That name from the past yanks Awmar back to a distant era—a bygone time when Auraq was not yet part of his life, and his mischievous friend Nyala was. Together, they used to sneak into his father’s studio to pilfer his most fantastical clothing designs. They would then dream up performances together, forming a true duo. They had vowed to create their first show as a team. Hours upon hours were spent devising scenarios, practicing steps, reciting lines, juggling... Awmar only left Nyala's side to watch his mother perform onstage at night. Inevitably, these reminiscences bring him back to the tragic end of his mother, a haunting refrain he cannot escape. Suddenly, Kibble darts between his legs, jolting him from his brooding melancholy. The Chimera heads toward the dressing rooms, newly completed by the roadies. Awmar smiles. Yes, the show must go on. It’s time to prepare and bow out, leaving room for Auraq to take the stage.

The dressing room is cramped and dimly lit. Awmar sighs—this is how it always is, so you make do. Kibble naps, curled up in a chest of dresses. Under the pale glow of the neon lights around his mirror, he attempts to do his makeup as best he can.

Awmar lays out his pots, powders, various colorful ointments, and glitter, along with all the small tools for applying them. Everything is meticulously arranged on the console. He begins by applying the base to his skin, then the foundation. Turning his head left and right in the mirror, he continues with concealer, starts contouring, and follows with powder and blush. After a brief pause, he adds highlighter. Finally, it’s time for the eyes. Once his gaze is perfected, Awmar reviews his face in the mirror, and his reflection winks back at him.

Through his Ignescence, ideas within him rearrange themselves. Some go dormant, while others come to life. She blows a kiss at her reflection. Good evening, Auraq. Goodnight, Awmar.

She smiles, her mind already turning to what she’ll offer the audience tonight. A wave of nostalgia sweeps over her, leading her thoughts to the past. The image of her mother always comes first. Perhaps tonight's performance could serve as both an ending and a new beginning—a curtain call for the past and a rising curtain for the future. Auraq picks up the mask lying before her and studies it. It’s time to find out for sure. She puts on the mask, stands up, gives Kibble a quick scratch, and leaves the dressing room.

She passes by other cabins on her way to the backstage area. Performers rehearse and train. Auraq uses the shadows to slip into a discreet, dark corner. Behind a curtain, wedged between a set of pulleys and some cardboard decorations, she watches. Eventually, she spots her target: Nyala. Nyala is seamlessly making objects appear and disappear using her Alteration powers. Well, well, she’s made remarkable progress with portals. Impressive for an amateur. Bravo. What a journey.

Auraq, captivated, reminisces the younger Nyala, proudly showing off the fledgling manifestations of her Alteration abilities to anyone who would watch. She had developed her powers first and was quite proud of it, often teasing Awmar about his slower progress. For Awmar, Alteration hadn’t been a priority—until his mother’s illness consumed their lives. Over time, as the illness claimed his mother, Alteration became both a distraction and an escape. He quickly caught up to Nyala in mastering the art and even surpassed her. Though she never admitted it, Awmar sensed her discomfort—a budding jealousy, perhaps. Their friendship faltered after his mother’s death. Awmar withdrew into guilt, and Nyala, unsure how to help, kept her distance. A mutual unease grew, brick by brick, into a wall. Their paths diverged. Nyala began staging small shows on her own while Auraq stepped into her mother’s role. They observed each other from afar but no longer shared the stage as they once had.

Nyala finishes her rehearsal and prepares to leave the stage. Auraq tries to slip away unnoticed, moving behind the curtain. But the backstage area can be treacherous. As she steps over part of the set, her feet catch in the ropes, and she nearly takes a tumble. She catches herself at the last second, but her clumsy recovery has drawn every eye. So much for stealth. An assistant calls out to her, asking her name to slot her into the rehearsal schedule. Hesitating, her gaze meets Nyala’s. Finally, she murmurs, “Auraq,” without much conviction. The assistant assigns her a spot. Nyala, who had paused on her way out, leans against a post in the corner of the stage. Awmar knows she’ll want to watch his rehearsal. There’s no use hiding behind a mask now. He removes it, sets it on a nearby crate, and turns to the orchestra, requesting a famous Lyra ballad. The conductor nods, raises his baton, taps the stand, and counts to two. The melody begins. Awmar reaches inside, searching for the passion that fuels him to create the dreamlike setting the music demands. He seeks Auraq and finds her just in time. She begins her show, still shaken by the unexpected turn of events but unwilling to let nerves get the better of her.

She is not the kind to let stage fright or any other setback overcome her. She is Auraq, diva among divas, the embodiment of exuberance and raw talent. She lets herself sing, her voice soaring as she seeks depth and transcendence.

Nyala watches, stunned. She remembers the little boy and the young woman who had once been her friend. The days when she couldn’t master Alteration the way she can now feel like a distant memory. Torn between curiosity and jealousy, she watches Auraq’s performance. Why had life pulled them so far apart? Was it only the death of Auraq's mother, or was there something deeper to uncover?

Nyala recalls the moment she had finished her studies and tried to reconnect with Auraq to pick up where their friendship had left off. But Auraq had vanished without a trace, leaving no clue as to where she had gone. Another mystery, another rift that hadn’t helped matters. Resolving to move on, Nyala had chosen to bury that chapter of her life, covering it with a veil of quiet acceptance. But as they say, ghosts have a way of reappearing at just the right time.

And here she is now, on stage—a grand dame, every bit as talented as her mother, perhaps even more so. She fills the space, the sound, the light… The competitive spirit surges back into Nyala, as naturally as slipping into a perfectly tailored coat. Oh, she won’t settle for being a mere supporting act. Outshining Auraq tonight won’t be easy, but Nyala is confident—she has an ace up her sleeve.

She smiles and gives Auraq a small wave, wiggling her fingers, before turning on her heel without waiting to see the rest of the performance. Auraq, unbothered, completes her act with unflinching poise. As she lowers her arm to signal the end of the number, applause erupt from her peers and the stage crew, who had stopped their work to watch her. She blows kisses to the audience and delivers a deliberately flamboyant bow, basking in the admiration.

Back in her dressing room, Auraq can’t shake the encounter with Nyala. She regrets her attempt at sneaky observation—it was out of character, tasteless, and a little petty. She should have confronted Nyala head-on as the GRAND Auraq, maskless and unrestrained. Now Nyala knows what to expect. No matter. She’ll rise to the occasion, as always. Kibble stretches in his trunk before leaping onto her lap. Auraq scratches the Chimera’s head, eager for the moment she can face her old rival. This time, on stage. The wait would be excruciatingly long.

Ah, the roar of the crowd! The drumrolls, like hearts pounding in unison!

Night has fallen, leaving just a faint orange glow over the sea. But this is no night of rest—far from it. The colossal theater buzzes with the excited hum of the arriving audience, filling the stands to capacity. Everyone is finding their seat: the Ordis in ceremonial attire, the rowdy and enthusiastic Bravos, the Muna captivated by the grandiose scenery that serves as the backdrop, the Axiom intrigued by the venue’s structures and mechanisms, and the ever-contemplative Yzmir lost in their thoughts. As for the Lyra, they’re all either on stage or working feverishly backstage. The stagehands dash about like frantic ants, patching up wobbly props, checking costumes, and double-checking sets. They knock on dressing room doors to remind performers of their time slots. The artistic hive is in full swing.

Auraq has shifted from impatience to the most stoic focus. Standing before her mirror, she meticulously reviews every inch of her costume, every stroke of her makeup. Everything must be perfect. In the distance, beyond the door, she hears the audience's reactions and applause for the earlier acts. Everything seems to be going well. She exhales deeply. She’s ready. She always has been. Kibble rubs against her legs as a series of knocks echoes at her door. It’s time. She lets Kibble step out ahead of her and follows, walking toward the wings with her most deliberate and striking stride. She passes the performers exiting the stage, glistening with sweat. As she climbs the final steps, she sees Nyala entering center stage. The hum of the crowd shifts into a reverent silence. Nyala begins her magic performance, and Auraq holds her breath, caught between fascination and apprehension.

Nyala starts gently with a series of small sleight-of-hand tricks. She creates tiny portals, stepping her leg, arm, and head through the dimensional openings she conjures on the fly… She juggles, moving her arms through the small windows in a precisely choreographed dance. Then the act becomes more challenging: the Alterer increases the number of intertwining portals and begins sending larger, more complex objects through them. The items move left to right, top to bottom, gaining speed as they travel. She starts with a simple candle traveling through five dimensions but ends with a galloping carriage, manifested through Alteration.

Following this opening act, Nyala transitions into a simulated duel, holding a sword in each hand. She uses the breaches to make the blades clash above the audience in intricate displays of combat. The applause builds steadily. Then it’s time for living creatures to join the act: Nyala summons a cat, followed by a dog, with one chasing the other, leaping through the portals. Finally, in a burst of intense light, a flaming wyvern emerges from one of the gates. Auraq nearly stumbles in shock. Nyala has set the bar incredibly high. The blazing dragon soars above the audience, earning thunderous applause. But Auraq notices something is wrong. The Alterer appears to be struggling to create a portal to recapture her own creation. The wyvern starts to escape toward the top of the stage, igniting some drapes along the way. Below, the growing fire sparks cries of alarm. The creature halts, uncertain.

Auraq leaps onto the stage, summoning a calming, dreamlike scene in her wake. She calls out to the conductor, who, frozen in place, finally strikes his podium, bringing the orchestra to life. A melody begins, and Auraq starts to sing. It’s a haunting plea, an entrancing variation on a traditional song, elevated into a baroque opera. Kibble perches on a column, ready to distract the fiery creature if it becomes aggressive. For now, the wyvern remains mesmerized by Auraq’s unfolding spectacle. Nyala catches her breath, regaining her composure. A glance is exchanged between her and Auraq, followed by a nod—a fleeting rekindling of a long-lost camaraderie, though it’s unlikely to last.

Like a snake charmer, Auraq communicates with the dragon through a series of syncopated gestures. The creature is drawn in, responding with undulating movements. Meanwhile, Nyala intensifies her stagecraft, creating a new portal behind Auraq. As the portal grows, Auraq moves closer to the fiery wyvern, which mirrors her approach with a twisting neck. Kibble straightens into a defensive stance as the portal looms larger. With a thunderous cry, Auraq commands the creature, which lunges toward her. But Auraq sidesteps, and the eidolon tumbles gracefully into the dimensional gateway prepared just for it! Both women collapse to their knees, their Ignescence nearly depleted. Yet the air around them crackles with energy, like the tempestuous gallop of a herd of wild horses.

Dazed, they glance at the audience, both in a stunned haze.

It’s an ovation! To their dismay, everyone believes it was a perfectly executed duet. Mana surges from the crowd, reinvigorating the two performers, who eagerly absorb every bit of it. They rise slowly, hesitant and unsure, observing one another. Finally, they bow to the audience, who erupt in wild cheers. Almost cautiously, the two retreat backstage, nearly ashamed, each going her own way. Not a word is exchanged, no smile or acknowledgment.

The battle is far from over—this much is certain.