[Silthara Palace — the Inner Baths — Later That Morning]
Steam veiled the vast inner bath, rising in pale curtains that softened the world to stone and breath. White walls curved high above, smooth and ancient, carved with serpents in endless procession—their bodies winding into one another as if guarding the space from all that was unworthy.
At the center lay a pond-sized pool, its waters warm and slow-moving, carrying faint traces of crushed herbs and perfumed oil.
Levin sat at the edge of the bath, shoulders bare, posture quiet.
Red marks bloomed across his skin, some faint, some darker. Behind his neck, half-hidden by damp hair, the black lotus gleamed softly—dark, unmistakable.
Iru and the other attendants moved around him with measured steps, heads bowed low. Yet all of them looked at the mark.
Meanwhile Levin? His thoughts wandered far from the chamber.
