The beam of light dissipates in an instant, sucked back into his body like a reversed explosion. The air settles. Birds begin to chirp faintly in the far distance, hesitant and disoriented.
Alix rises slowly to his feet.
His eyes open—and for a moment, they glow with layered rings of silver and obsidian, the mark of a being who has transcended.
He flexes one hand.
Power coils around his fingers, not wild, not chaotic—but obedient. Calm. Like a storm waiting for permission to unleash.
Alix exhales slowly, the storm of energy ebbing away inside him, leaving behind only clarity… and silence.
Then he speaks, more to himself than anyone else.
"Oh," he mutters, blinking once. "So that's how I get back my innate abilities."
His voice is quiet—curious, reflective—but there's a thread of something deeper woven into it. Memory. Recognition. Awe.
