The journey back to Vaelith felt infinitely longer than the first time Dayat had traversed the Great Root Paths of Verdia. The royal carriage, an opulent vessel of carved White-Wood pulled by four magnificent Verdant Stags, glided across the forest floor with a supernatural smoothness, slicing through the heavy morning mists. Yet, the physical tranquility of the ride was a sharp contrast to the chaotic storm brewing in Dayat's mind.
He leaned back against the plush, silk-covered cushions, staring at his fingertips. Every few seconds, a faint, erratic spark of sapphire-purple light would flicker across his skin—a warning sign from his subconscious that his manifestation energy was dangerously unstable following the intensive combat and engineering feats in Elarwyn.
