Jonathan's astonishment lingered in the air, his crimson eyes narrowing as he struggled to fathom the depths of this metaphysical conundrum. His voice, usually laced with an air of self-assuredness, now carried a hint of vulnerability.
"How can your soul possess consciousness?" Jonathan murmured his words almost a whispered admission of his own limitations.
The very idea of a soul, a fundamental element of existence, exhibiting self-awareness was an anomaly beyond the boundaries of his vast knowledge.
Daimon, his crimson eyes like twin pools of ancient wisdom, met Jonathan's gaze with a tranquil resolve.
The gleam of understanding within them hinted at untold secrets. With a calm that seemed to echo through the boundless expanse of this surreal realm, Daimon responded.
"I don't know," he confessed, his voice carrying the weight of countless centuries. "It simply does."
