Rheanor pressed a hand lightly over his chest. His heartbeat, usually steady and silent as still water, was uneven — responding to something it had no business responding to. He had long trained his body to remain untouched by external influence, yet now it stirred as if being called.
He kept his breathing controlled — slow in, slow out — before speaking in a low murmur.
"Come where?"
The voice did not answer in words, but in a presence.
Come.
Rheanor exhaled sharply through his nose. "I heard you the first two times. At least give me a direction—"
Before he could finish, the air shifted.
The mana — normally calm and pure around Yggdrasil — surged in a ripple. It was subtle, but unmistakable. Rheanor's eyes widened, because such a fluctuation simply should not be possible here. Not unless—
He slowly lifted his gaze.
