Entrance Preview: 



The arena plunges into total darkness. The faint hum of a crowd is cut off by the hollow clang of a funeral bell, echoing from every corner of the venue.

A deep, green light pulses once… twice… then holds steady as the iconic intro riff of Metallica’s “For Whom the Bell Tolls (Live with the San Francisco Symphony)” rumbles to life. The timpani and strings crawl in slowly like a thunderstorm on the edge of the valley.

Then, the screen comes to life – black background, one glowing word etched across it:


As the first heavy guitar chug hits, a mako green spotlight crashes down on the stage. The smoke rolls in thick from beneath it. Standing within the mist is Aurora – head bowed, her hands clenched at her sides. Her silver hair is pulled into a tight ponytail, the faint green glow catching along its strands.

Rochelle Adams: Making her way to the ring at this time, from Arizona Bay… she is… the Catalyst… The Weaver of Dreams… She is… AURORA!

She doesn’t move at first – until the second bell tolls, echoing like an omen. Then, with precise, deliberate steps, she walks forward through the fog, her silhouette flickering like a mirage amidst the heat of the Sonoran desert.

Aurora circles the ring until she reaches the southeast ring post, grips the middle rope with both hands, and ascends to the apron.

Another emerald spotlight floods down as she stands center-apron. The lights above project shimmering auroras across the smoke-filled ceiling – spectral and unsettling. It follows her into the ring, where she ascends the southwest turnbuckle.

She slowly lifts her head to face the crowd.