Sound slammed back into place, the wind's howl, the crunch of Varik's boot planting into the snow, Selindra's coat snapping against the gust.
Lucen gasped, clutching his chest. To them, it was seamless. Just another second passed.
But inside him, hours had shifted.
Selindra glanced over her shoulder at him, gray eyes narrowing. "You alright?"
Lucen forced a crooked grin, masking the raw ache in his chest. "Yeah. Just got a chill. Snow's not exactly beach weather."
She didn't smile. She just kept walking.
Varik didn't look back, but his voice was steady. "You're pale."
Lucen shoved his hands into his coat pockets, forcing his breathing even. "That's just my natural complexion. I call it 'undead chic.'"
Neither of them pressed further. But Varik's shoulders were a little tenser now. He always knew when Lucen was lying.
–
As they trekked further, Lucen tested the new skills quietly, internally. Just enough to feel their weight.
