There was no time to comprehend what had just happened, no moment spared to understand the nature of the skill he received or what it truly did—for the instant Nyxaria's voice faded into silence, it was as if something unseen wrapped around him, pulling his consciousness into a strange trance. His body froze, not in fear, but in surrender, while a warmth enveloped him, creeping along his skin and seeping into his bones. Yet it wasn't the warmth of comfort, not motherly or divine—it was heavier, deeper, something more passionate and dangerously intimate, like the touch of someone who knew your weaknesses and wanted to feel every single one of them.
And then, something unexpected stirred him awake. Just slightly...
"Hic… ahh… Sylvaris...."
The sound cracked the silence, trembling and wet, each note like hot drops of sorrow falling onto cold stone, sharp enough to pierce through his trance and sink straight into the marrow of his bones.
