"What the hell did you just do? And how?"
Anaximander had come up behind Noah, and he was staring at Ryaenara with open marvel!
He could sense the complete change of her existence, and it was not a change of degree. Her weavings did not read as elevated, or healed, or empowered. They read as absent!
A being stood before him, undeniably present, radiating quiet crimson nobility, and every instrument of perception he owned reported that she did not display much immenisty at all.
Noah was already walking toward Hvitrmarr, a fresh drop of blood rising to his fingertip.
"My existence has begun living truly as myself," he said, beginning to draw. The rune took form stroke by patient stroke, waves and strings gathering in the blood.
