The chamber was calm, almost oppressively serene. The faint shimmer of runes carved into the walls bathed the room in a soft azure glow, and the stillness in the air was so thick it felt as though even dust motes were afraid to drift.
Luca sat at the table opposite the Tower Master. His posture was straight but tense, one hand resting lightly against the polished wood, the other unconsciously fidgeting with the hem of his sleeve. Taking in a long, steadying breath, he finally broke the silence.
"Well…" His voice was quiet at first, testing, almost hesitant. "It's the ability I awakened when I was in the past—seven thousand years ago. With… her majesty."
He trailed off, watching her carefully.
The Tower Master's expression did not falter. Her face remained composed, calm as the surface of a still pond. No widening of her eyes, no sharp intake of breath—nothing. She simply regarded him, her chin propped lightly on one hand.
