[Elythia]
[Eternal City]
Aelfric inhaled deeply, drawing in the air of Elythia, the Eternal City.
Yet, unlike the fresh, crisp air of Aethel, where life flourished with vibrance, the air here felt stagnant. There was something thick in it—an invisible force that clung to the skin, pressing down like the dense hammer. It was more abundant in the city, pooling between the towering buildings, lacing through the narrow alleys, creeping through the lit streets where not a single voice stirred.
And yet he felt more at ease here.
Ironically, Aethel had felt suffocating.
Not from the air, but from something deeper, something he could not grasp with mere logic. In Aethel, there had been no moment where he had not been tense, no second in which he had not been on guard, as if forces pressed against him from all sides. Here, in the Eternal City, the tension had lessened—not vanished, but dulled to a distant hum, a mere echo of what it had been.
He was home.
