Alaric soared quietly through the sky, the wind brushing past him like a gentle reminder that he was no longer running for his life.
This time, he wasn't ripping through the air like a blade—he was floating, slower, more thoughtful.
Something was changing. No—he was changing.
Maybe this was always who he truly was beneath all the pressure. Survival, endless tasks, the crushing weight of expectations—they'd buried his real self somewhere deep.
Now, with the Divine Heart beating in his chest and no immediate crisis on his heels, that buried self was clawing its way to the surface. And strangely... he liked it.
He felt free.
Not caged by duty. Not suffocated by fear. Just—free. Even if the Divine Heart was influencing him, it didn't matter. Not if it made him feel alive.
His golden eyes locked onto the horizon, and in the near distance, nestled among the darkening trees, was Valderroth.
Back before dusk. Just like he promised.
