The air outside the World Tree carried a hum, soft but heavy, as though every particle of mana bowed to a rhythm only it could hear. Lindarion walked through it with measured steps, the golden shimmer of his irises faint but undeniable, his hair now pale as woven moonlight.
The elves who had gathered still knelt, their voices hushed into silence as he passed them. None dared raise their eyes until the gleaming doors closed behind him.
The forest breathed in slow reverence. Every rustle of leaf, every chime of wind through branch seemed aware of him.
Ashwing perched on his shoulder, claws digging lightly into his tunic. His tiny lizard form looked absurdly out of place next to Lindarion's changed presence, but his tail twitched with quiet agitation.
"You feel weird," Ashwing muttered in his head, his voice boyish, a little whiny. "Like… like you're not just you anymore. It's… it's too big."
