Auren was impressed by Sukamu's words, almost caught off guard. {Prana}. Something about it struck him deep, like a hidden thread tugging at his soul. His face showed it—his curiosity, his hunger to know more. It wasn't just knowledge he wanted; it was a connection. A feeling that maybe this "Prana" was tied to some joy, some truth he hadn't yet discovered.
His gaze stayed fixed forward, eyes burning with focus, but his mind was elsewhere. What is Prana? What does it feel like?
Auren closed his eyes. The cold air rushed into him, sharp and biting. Inhale. Then came the exhale—warmer, softer, like a faint mist fading into the world. He felt each breath move through him, filling his lungs, and for a moment, it loosened the heaviness on his chest. His shoulders sank. His body eased.
"Is that… Prana?" Auren whispered, his voice quiet, almost hopeful.
