Seirion walked through the temple halls with a calm stride, though he still carried within him the warm memory of Erian breathing softly, his face still flushed, a warmth Seirion couldn't get out of his mind.
Even so, Seirion had forced himself to leave the room. If he had stayed any longer, he probably wouldn't have been able to pull himself away.
As he made his way down the corridor, the dawn cast long shadows against the walls. The inner gardens gave off a faint smell of damp leaves. At that hour, the temple's silence held something solemn.
Seirion ran a hand through his hair and let out a deep breath. He had rested, yes, but not enough to sort through everything he felt.
His mind remained divided between his worry over Erian's curse, the distortion in his senses, and the urgent need to hide that he wasn't the 'correct' version of himself.
He couldn't make a mistake.
A single misplaced word could split time in two.
