[VOLUME 14: THE SHATTERED HEAVENS][ARC 1: THE BIRTH OF A GODDESS]
When Elara's bare feet touched the obsidian floor of the bedchamber, the stone did not feel cold.
Instead, she felt the slow, ancient pulse of the Nocturne Keep beneath her toes. She could feel the exact density of the marble, the pathways of ambient mana swirling through the mortar, and the vast, empty space of the cosmos just outside the heavy oak doors.
She stood up, and for the first time in her life, her body felt entirely her own. There was no lingering exhaustion, no phantom aches from past battles, no fragile mortal limit warning her to be careful.
She was boundless.
"You're thinking so loudly I can taste it, little bird," a deep, sleep-rough voice rumbled behind her.
Elara glanced over her shoulder. Aldren was propped up on one massive elbow amidst the ruined bedding. The Abyssal King's dark hair fell over his crimson eyes, his broad, violently scarred chest rising and falling in a slow, hypnotic rhythm.
