The golden leaves circling John slowly settled around him.
Some rested upon his wings.
Others drifted near his shoulders before dissolving into faint particles of light.
The warmth left behind wasn't overwhelming power.
It was calm.
Steady.
For the first time since entering the hidden realm, the constant pressure inside his chest eased.
Across the battlefield, the False Heart watched in silence.
Its black eyes lingered on the fading light around John.
"Interesting," it murmured.
"The Tree is choosing a successor."
John lifted his gaze.
"I'm not trying to replace anyone."
"That is why it responds to you."
The answer caught him off guard.
Even Caelis looked mildly surprised.
The False Heart tilted Asterion's head slightly.
"Those who seek power are easily consumed by it."
"Those who seek only to protect..."
Its gaze returned to the World Tree.
"...are more troublesome."
A low rumble spread beneath the roots.
