Lor sat cross-legged on the floor of Lia's bedroom, the soft glow of the lavender lamp casting a warm light across the woven rug.
His expression was serious, steady, his hazel eyes sharp with focus, no trace of the earlier mischief or lust.
He motioned for Sophia and Lia to join him, his voice calm but firm. "Sit. And listen."
The girls obeyed, forming a small triangle on the rug, their knees nearly touching.
Sophia's blonde twin tails were tucked neatly behind her, her blue eyes wide with anticipation, her petite frame attentive.
Lia's red curls framed her freckled face, her green eyes curious but cautious, her curvy figure relaxed but alert.
They faced Lor, the weight of his words settling over them like a teacher's command.
He held out his hands, palms up, his lean frame steady, his voice measured.
"Magic isn't a tool. Not at first. It's not a weapon, a chant, or a trick. It's your body. Your breath. Your intention. It's the core of who you are."
