Resting his head on Ailorus's lap, Westheid sank into a slumber more peaceful and relaxing than any he had ever known. The Wind Law Queen had luxuriously used her Divine Power—a force mortals could only dream of—as a sleep aid, crafting the most comfortable resting experience imaginable. It was a luxury likely unprecedented and never to be seen again.
After a deep slumber that felt as if it could cleanse his very soul, Westheid awoke to the sound of a lullaby.
The first thing he saw was a pure, lovely face, wreathed in soft light and mist. A few dazzling golden braids hung down, tickling his cheek.
Though her face was exquisitely delicate and undeniably youthful, it held a sacred, motherly radiance in the faint light.
Noticing Westheid was awake, the softly singing Elf Lolita turned her cerulean eyes toward him. She tilted her head and smiled.
"Are you awake?"
"Yes, thank you. I haven't slept that well in a very long time."
