"Who are they, what sort of authority is this." His thoughts spiraled as his gaze lingered on old man Obsidar, unease tightening his chest. And why does this young man look so familiar? The question echoed in his mind, his thoughts trembling like leaves caught in an unseen wind.
Before he could sink deeper into that confusion, old man Obsidar gently parted Galathion's shoulder, the light pressure snapping him back to the present. Galathion blinked twice, his fixed stare finally breaking.
"That should be enough, you will erase my grandson if you stare any longer." He said calmly, though his tone carried a quiet warning.
"Hum, old man." Nyxander's voice thundered in his own mind as his eyes widened, recognition striking him like sudden lightning.
"Hah… Sorry. Release!" With those words, the pressure vanished, and everything returned to normal as if the moment had never existed.
