This was the final session of Lyra's healing for Sevastian. Exhaustion had taken its toll on him after countless sleepless nights spent preparing for battle. Yet, even when he had managed to steal moments of rest, the nightmare that haunted him continued to plague his mind.
The room was serene, the faint flicker of candlelight casting warm, golden hues across the walls. The candles were arranged meticulously in a circle, their flames dancing and illuminating the space with an otherworldly glow. Lyra sat gracefully within the circle, her focus unwavering as she prepared to begin. Sevastian lay with his head resting on her lap, his breathing shallow and uneven.
Cradled by Lyra's gentle presence, the weight pressing on his mind began to ease. Her fingers moved through his hair in slow, soothing strokes, their touch delicate yet grounding. It was a sensation that calmed his restless soul, and before long, the haze of sleep overcame him.
