Each time Atticus felt Solvath's energy surge through him, he stopped, reset, and repeated the process. Again and again until everything began to blur.
Observation turned into instinct. His breath counts blurred into Solvath's raging emotions, until Atticus could no longer separate the two.
His breath was his rage. His rage was his breath. Each inhale and exhale carried both the chaos of the fragment and the order of his rhythm.
And then, something shifted.
Atticus no longer needed the counts. He replaced them. Where before his emotions were wildfire, now they fell into the rhythm of his breathing.
He opened his eyes. Purple fire licked faintly across his skin, but his gaze was calm, his breathing steady.
For the first time, he had not been consumed by Solvath's emotions. A slow exhale left his lips.
'Finally.'
"Took you long enough."
His eyes flickered towards the source. He smiled.
"How long?"
