His fingers flexed against his knees, and for a moment, the urge was there. To just pull on the corruption again, force it into a spell, drain it dry by violence the way he always did. But he knew better. That wasn't cleansing. That was feeding it.
Bootsteps crunched behind him. Lucen didn't look back until the shadow stretched across the fractured ground.
Varik.
The man stood there, silent as always, eyes sharp in the gloom. His presence didn't press like Elira's authority or Selindra's precision. It was heavier. Like standing next to a mountain.
"You're still leaking," Varik said finally.
Lucen pushed himself back to his feet. "Yeah, thanks for the compliment."
Varik didn't smile. "You won't solve it alone."
Lucen tilted his head, watching him. "Got a better idea?"
"Not here. Not now." Varik's gaze shifted toward the skyline, where the broken towers still smoked faintly. "But there are methods. Dangerous. Rare."
Lucen's eyes narrowed. "You mean suppression."
