Lucavion leaned his head back against the smooth stone edge of the bath, his damp hair clinging slightly to his skin. The warmth seeped into his bones, but it did nothing to ease the weight settling over him now.
He exhaled slowly, tilting his head just enough to glance at Vitaliara. Her gaze was expectant, unwavering.
No turning back now.
So, he began.
"I was a soldier."
Vitaliara's ears flicked slightly.
[Soldier?]
Lucavion hummed lightly. "Yes. Soldier."
[When?] She sounded skeptical. [You're not even that old.]
Lucavion's smirk curled at the edges, but there was no real amusement behind it.
"When I was fourteen."
Silence.
Vitaliara's eyes widened just slightly, but she didn't speak immediately.
She didn't have to.
Lucavion could feel the question forming, the weight of her unspoken thoughts pressing against him like the steam curling through the air.
Fourteen.
Too young.
Far too young.
But this wasn't a story of childhood.
No. This was war.
