Once the doors clicked shut, the room fell into a heavy silence. Alaric moved his hands gently and slowly, beginning to undo the fastenings of Julian's sweat-soaked clothes. He gathered a basin of water and a cloth, intending to wipe the cold sweat from Julian's skin.
However, as Alaric leaned in with the damp rag, Julian suddenly lunged upward. Using every bit of the little strength he could muster, he wrapped his arms tightly around Alaric's neck and his body trembled.
The conversation with the god of Light came flooding back—the revelations of traps, souls, and ancient betrayals—leaving Julian trembling with a deep-seated fear. He had not yet read the book of his soul as promised, but the sheer weight of what he did know had him terrified.
"Julian?" Alaric called out, his voice laced with confusion and concern as he held the damp cloth mid-air.
Julian only tightened his hold, his face burying into the crook of Alaric's neck to muffle his voice.
