Erend lay down after the telepathic call ended, but sleep refused to come. His body was weary but his mind churned with too much unease to allow rest.
Every time he closed his eyes the image of Arty's calm sleeping face returned, pierced by the memory of Sylmira's words.
"Something is influencing her."
The thought stabbed at him relentlessly. He clicked his tongue then sat upright with a low growl of frustration.
Sleep would not come tonight and he was certain of that.
Instead, he folded his legs beneath him on the bed, placing his hands on his knees. He slowed his breathing and let it sink into the rhythm of meditation.
His focus was ready to center itself on the steady stream of Magic energy flowing in and out of him. The power of Dragonborn blood steadied him and dulled the burning storm of helplessness even though it did not erase it.
He stayed like that for hours, his body was sitting still and his mind suspended between vigilance and weary calm.
