'She looks so peaceful,' Soren thought, his gaze lingering on Ethea.
She sat completely still in her wheelchair, her eyes closed and her breathing slow and even. To anyone else, she looked like she had simply drifted off to sleep after finishing her dessert. Yet Soren could feel the subtle, rhythmic tug on the ambient energy around her, a sign that she was already deep in a trance, entirely absorbed by the cultivation of that mysterious technique.
The sight held an understated elegance, drawing his attention and refusing to let go, leaving him with the distinct realization that he could easily stand there watching her for hours.
The crisp ring of the doorbell shattered his thoughts.
Soren pulled himself away from the sight, stepping down the hallway to open the front door. Aunt Clara stood on the threshold with a warm smile.
"Good morning, Soren," she greeted him in a soft whisper.
