Her gaze drifted towards the masked man who sat cross-legged in the corner of the airship. His breathing was even and deep, his eyes closed in quiet contemplation. A faint, shimmering barrier enveloped him, a subtle layer of protection around his still form.
Over the course of their journey, she had observed this ritual of his – finding a quiet space to sit in meditation. It wasn't the focused intensity of martial arts practice; it seemed more akin to... his spirit having momentarily detached itself from his physical body.
Recalling his enigmatic words, that this vessel was not truly his own, that he had merely borrowed it to traverse realms, her suspicion solidified into a near certainty: his soul was indeed leaving his physical form during these trances.
Half a year. In just half a year, her children would follow him, embarking on their own paths.
