The day Altair awoke, he had been silent, his serpentine pupils coldly peering at the skies lost in some unseamed void. He felt lost and uncomfortable in his skin. He was stronger, faster, and harder, but for some reason, he hadn't felt like himself. It was all too visceral.
For a week, he merely stared up at the sun and moon, drowning in the endless lake that was mana around him, swallowing him far, far, far into its depths. The realm of knowledge felt warm. Here, he could learn without the need to be burdened by worldly things. He could know things without being told.
