Nero walked to the center of the roof and sat down, cross-legged, facing the infinite spread of the cosmos. For a long moment, he looked up, letting the silence and the starlight wash over him. The events of the past days—the battles, the pain, the visions, the impossible revelations—all of it faded into background noise. Here, under the stars, there was only now.
He closed his eyes.
His breathing slowed, deepened, fell into the ancient rhythm his mother had taught him years ago. In through the nose, deep and slow, filling the lungs completely. Hold. Then out through the mouth, a long, controlled release. Each breath was a cycle, a wheel turning, drawing in the energy of the world and releasing the tension of the body.
