The spiritual storm faded like a receding tide, its weight lifting slowly from the ridge. Arthur remained still, his arms slack at his sides, breath slow and even. He didn't speak.
"You are learning," Aquan said, stepping beside him, voice quiet so it wouldn't disturb the balance. "Not to dominate—but to coexist."
Arthur didn't nod. He just inhaled again, letting the breath slide deep into his chest, then exhaled in a rhythm that didn't belong to any technique—just his own.
Tiara was sitting cross-legged nearby, her hair tied back and her hands resting gently on her knees. The shimmer around her body was faint now, like moonlight on water. She looked peaceful, but her eyes opened the moment Arthur moved.
"You look like you just wrestled a mountain," she said, smiling faintly.
"I did," Arthur replied, stepping off the ridge and walking back toward the camp. "Except the mountain was inside me."
