The next morning brought a different air. The sky was clear, but something in the atmosphere felt heavy, as if the earth itself were holding its breath. Andrew hadn't slept since the partial absorption of the divinity from the divine body.
Although he had survived the process, his soul still throbbed with the echo of a war that wasn't his own, yet now he carried in his blood. "It's not fully assimilated," he whispered, studying his hands, where the marks of the war god still burned with raw energy.
Sereda, who had been monitoring his magical flow, frowned. "That's dangerous. If you don't complete the integration soon, the trapped fury could destabilize you." Andrew smiled helplessly and said only, "I know. But something's preventing me."
"Preventing or delaying it?" Sereda asked. Andrew didn't answer. Because deep down, he sensed it wasn't an internal resistance. It was as if something outside of him was trying to keep him from reaching equilibrium.
