The air outside the mansion was still, the vast expanse of Luminaria's sub-realm stretching endlessly.
Atlas walked ahead with unhurried steps, his hands clasped loosely behind his back, every motion deliberate. Elizabeth trailed behind him, her gaze fixed on his figure as though he were the axis upon which her world turned.
Finally, he stopped at a wide clearing where the earth itself hummed with buried power. The ground pulsed faintly beneath their feet, alive with dormant remains of divine power. Atlas turned, his eyes sharp.
"Does this spot suffice as the place you'll be teaching me your little trick, isn't it?" he asked, his tone halfway between amusement and authority.
Elizabeth nodded quickly, brushing a strand of her long brown hair behind her ear. "Yes. This land is deeply tied to my divinity, it will respond to me… and, in time, to you. Seismic Sense is not a spell you cast. It's a way of feeling. To sense the faintest tremors of life, of energy, of disaster long before they manifest."
Atlas smirked, stepping closer until he was standing directly before her. His height forced her to look up, her light-brown eyes wide and hesitant.
"And how do you intend to teach me that?" he asked, voice low, smooth, deliberate.
Elizabeth swallowed, her face warming under the weight of his presence. She clasped her hands together nervously, but forced herself to answer. "Through contact. The quickest way is… for me to act as the medium. You'll need to touch the ground through me, through my essence."
Atlas chuckled, shaking his head slightly. "Always through contact with you goddesses… How convenient." His grin widened, sharp with amusement. "Fine then. Show me."
Elizabeth nodded, then lowered herself gracefully, placing one hand flat against the fertile soil. Her other hand extended toward Atlas. "Take my hand. Feel through me. Let the ground speak to you."
Atlas studied her for a moment before reaching out, his hand engulfing hers. The instant their skin met, Elizabeth shivered visibly. His grip was steady but unyielding, but beneath the surface of that grip, Atlas released something else —a current of his Restoration Arts.
It was subtle, hidden beneath the touch, like a whisper in the bloodstream. Not the healing nature the Arts were known for, but their deeper function: alignment. His energy slipped through her, coaxing her breathing to match his rhythm, slowing her pulse, quieting the noise of her thoughts.
The faintest suggestions threaded into her consciousness, disguised as her own inner voice. Relax. Trust. Listen. Yield.
Elizabeth's breath quickened. "Good… Now close your eyes, and focus. Don't just hear the earth… become part of it."
Atlas closed his eyes, though not because she told him. He wanted to test her, and at the same time gauge how deeply his arts were seeping into her.
At first, he felt only the obvious —the solid ground beneath him, the faint hum of energy. But then… something else. A ripple. The faintest tremor, like a whisper, runs through the soil. His lips curled upward.
"I see… no, I feel it. Like threads beneath the surface, weaving through the earth," Atlas murmured, his voice quiet but filled with satisfaction.
Elizabeth's eyes widened, astonished. "Already…? That fast?"
Atlas opened his eyes and leaned slightly closer, their faces only inches apart. "Don't look so surprised. Did you think I'd be slow at this?"
Elizabeth flushed deeply, caught in his gaze. "N-no… I just—"
Atlas tilted his head, studying her like prey caught in his grasp. His thumb brushed against the back of her hand, the same hand through which his arts still pulsed, slipping past her natural defenses. "You're trembling. Is it the training… or is it me?"
Elizabeth's lips parted, but no words came. Her heart hammered, her mind fogging, as if her own will was being slowly lulled into stillness.
Then Atlas spoke again, casually, but his words carried a weight heavier than she could recognize. "I see… You're more of an easy target than even Luminaria. You want to yield, don't you?"
The suggestion lanced through her mind like a brand. Elizabeth stiffened, as though to resist, but the Restoration Arts twisted the command inward —her subconscious taking it as truth, her conscious mind unable to distinguish between her own thoughts and Atlas's will. The more she tried to push the thought away, the deeper it rooted itself. Her silence was louder than any confession.
Atlas noticed the shift immediately. Her pupils dilated, her breathing steadied into shallow, submissive waves, her very posture softening. His eyes narrowed slightly.
That fast? His plan had been to wear down her resistance over time, to erode her foundation until she bent willingly. Instead, his arts had hollowed her mind into a vessel ready to be filled. A golden opportunity he hadn't expected.
He released her hand only to place his palm atop her head, pressing gently but firmly until she bowed toward him. Her body followed the motion without protest, as though her will had been replaced by instinct.
"Good," Atlas said, smirking, his voice dripping with amusement. "That's the first lesson in Seismic Sense, Elizabeth. Not just to feel the tremors of the earth… but to feel the tremors inside yourself. To understand what shakes you. What makes you weak?"
Elizabeth's chest rose and fell in ragged breaths, but her mind was quiet, pliant, waiting for his words to shape her next thought.
"And don't worry," Atlas continued, his smirk widening as he studied her vacant eyes, "I'll be sure to make those tremors grow until you can no longer stand on your own."
Elizabeth's lips trembled, then parted, her voice hushed and submissive: "Yes… Atlas."