Lucavion lingered in the basin a while longer, letting the mana's low resonance ripple through his bones. It no longer felt like training. Or even therapy. Just a rhythm—slow, firm, familiar. Like an old companion who knew exactly how hard to press before crossing the line.
The warmth clung to him, not just from the water, but from something subtler. A stillness that hadn't existed earlier. The strange clarity that only came when everything had been shaken, then stilled.
[You're quiet,] Vitaliara murmured.
He didn't answer. Not with words. Just a breath through his nose, long and even, and a closing of the eyes that said enough.
But as with all stillness—it passed.
Eventually, the water cooled. The compression pulses softened. The enchantment dimmed, its job done, perhaps recognizing that the man within it had lost interest.
Lucavion sat up.
